It’s been a long time since I’ve written here.

To be honest, I’ve been in a pretty difficult place the last couple of years—spiritually, emotionally, and even creatively. The words just haven’t come easily. My thoughts have mostly poured out in scattered Facebook posts, bits and pieces of processing. The other day, my husband gently pointed out, “You know, I think you’ve been blogging on Facebook.”

And you know what? He’s right. (Don’t you just love it when that happens? 😄)
So, here I am again, back in this space—for now—with a heart that’s tender and a voice that’s slowly returning.

Learning to Begin Again

There’s a quote I’ve come back to often lately—one that seems to capture where I’ve been and where I’m heading:

“Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself.
Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections,
but instantly set about remedying them—every day begin the task anew.”
— Saint Francis de Sales

That last line—“every day begin the task anew”—has been like balm to my soul.
Because some days, that’s the best we can do.
Begin again.

From Bible Study to Worship… and Wrestling

This morning, we finished our study of Hebrews in our Bible Fellowship group. My husband has been leading this series, and it’s been such a gift. Then during the worship service, we participated in a commitment service—a beautiful time of dedicating ourselves, our resources, and our lives to the Lord.

The orchestra didn’t play this morning. Instead, we stood with the choir, adding our voices to the hymns being sung.

And that’s where everything started to stir.

The first hymn was “Before the Throne of God Above.”
A song I’ve sung countless times.
But today… it undid me.

As the opening line appeared on the screen—“Before the throne of God above…”—Romans 14:10–12 sprang to mind:

“For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of Christ…
Each of us shall give an account of himself to God.”

Suddenly, that familiar undercurrent of unworthiness came rushing in.
My old, legalistic mindset reared its head and struck deep.

Who was I to be standing here, singing in the choir, helping lead worship?
I’m no spiritual giant. I’m a sinner—flawed, broken, failing far more often than I’d like to admit.
Every good thing I’ve ever tried to do still feels like filthy rags compared to His holiness.

I felt like the tax collector in Luke 18, beating his chest in the back of the temple, crying out, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.”

And then… the choir began to sing.

Truth That Sings

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea:
A great High Priest whose name is Love,
Who ever lives and pleads for me.

Tears began to form.

My name is graven on His hands,
My name is written on His heart…
I know that while in heaven He stands,
No tongue can bid me thence depart.

I listened. I sang. I received.

When Satan tempts me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look, and see Him there
Who made an end to all my sin.

And I remembered:
I do not and will not face the throne of God on my own.

He Lives and Pleads for Me

While we were singing, I could hear my husband’s voice in my mind, reading from Hebrews 4:

“Seeing then that we have a great High Priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession.
For we do not have a High Priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but was in all points tempted as we are, yet without sin.
Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace…”
— Hebrews 4:14–16

Jesus knows what it is to be human.
He understands my struggles—because He experienced weakness and temptation too.
But unlike me, He was without sin.
And now, He stands as my advocate.
He pleads for me.

I don’t have to sneak into the throne room quietly, hoping not to be noticed.
I can approach boldly.
Because of Him.

A Gospel That Still Wrecks Me

Because the sinless Savior died,
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.

That’s the gospel.
Not that I got it all right—but that He did.
Not that I’ve been worthy—but that He made me righteous.
Not that I’ve earned it—but that He paid for it in full.

One With Himself, I Cannot Die

One with Himself I cannot die,
My soul is purchased by His blood.
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ, my Savior and my God.

Amen.

A Final Thought

So, if like me, you’ve been in a hard place—feeling unworthy, weary, or unsure if you even belong in the room…
Let this be your reminder:

You are not alone.
You are not unredeemable.
And you don’t have to stand silent at the edge of grace.

He lives.
He pleads for you.
And you can come boldly, just as you are.

Praise God, just as I am.