What do you say when you know He is good but you’ve not felt the goodness in days?
when words about His sovereignty and help fail to bring comfort, relief, release?

He is good.
He is good.
He is good to me.
He is good to me even now.
even here.

He is always and only good.


What do you do when you repeat truth over and over and over again but pain remains?
What is the next step when the breaking continues?

when the ache from your heart and the tears from your eyes threaten to undo you?

How do you even begin to negotiate the space between knowing and feeling?
How do you deal when the obligations and duties of the everyday demand regard?



I’m not sure I know.

After days and days of shuffling through life without ever touching anything, feeling returned.

Those zombie days?

He was there. Reaching out to me. Pouring into me. He was ever present, and I was in His presence often. I was held together by Him. I know this. I knew it then, but I didn’t feel it at any point.

Even now, as I recall those days of numbness, I search for emotions, for any hint of refreshment, renewal, and come away without.
There was only Truth to sustain me. There was only the covering and recovering of everything I knew to be true of Him:
His promises are based in His character.
He does not forget.
His desire is to give good gifts and abundant life.
He knows no other way than Faithful.
He hears me.

I searched His Word for something new…anything different that I could throw over myself that would make me FEEL something.

Nothing new.

The truths that I held about Him, the things I called down in the light of day—would they sustain me in the dark?



This darkness was a new thing.

I’ve known dusk and twilight and moonless nights. I’ve wondered around, passing through shadows, looking for the path.
This darkness was disquieting, like the moment a thunderstorm knocks out power, all at once and unexpectedly.

This power outage was pervasive.

No return of flickering lights, no eye-adjustments to this new level of bright.

There was no bright.

There was no light, only the knowledge that Light remained…somewhere.

Questions and doubt roll in to deepen the fog around me and impede any fumbling or progress towards “out”.

I’m left without the rush of being rescued, without the overwhelmingness of His presence. I’m left without comfort and dry eyes.

I have only what I know of Him, what I’ve said of Him in the light.
It’s the only place I know to begin.

He is my peace.
He is my portion.
My praise. 
He is my redeemer.
My rock. The guardian of my heart and lover of my soul.
He is my way.
My steady place.
He is my shelter.
My refuge, a hiding place.
He is where I rest.
He is my strength.

And when the tears come, when the heart breaks, when it falls apart and the enemy wins a battle, I begin again.
He is my peace.
He is my portion.
He is my praise.
He is Light in the darkness.
He restores my soul.
He is the lifter of my head.


Every step.
Every misstep.
Every moment of huddled surrender.


It came as I looked to Him, as I pressed into Him. It came as I repeated Truth devoid of emotion. It came as I remembered, as He reminded.

A fluttering warmth.
A steady knowing coupled with resolve.

darkness gone.

Even now, I find myself in awe at how He works, how He leans in and stirs us towards Himself, how dawn always comes because there is always Light.

…in awe at how He is found Faithful. Every. Single. Time.

Some Scripture that fueled the Truth on repeat:

2 Timothy 2: 11-13      Deuteronomy 10:21      Ephesians 2:4-5
Psalm 145                   Psalm 121                    Psalm 16:5-11
Psalm 28:6-9              Psalm 18:28-30             Psalm 107:9
Psalm 84:11                Psalm 73:26                 Psalm 23:3
Psalm 25:1-10            Psalm 112:4                  John 10:14