Tag Archives: faith

Saltwater + Seasons

Most days I find myself at the edge of the ocean— Gazing. Praying. Crying. Singing.

I don’t know why I end up here—sometimes in the day, sometimes in the dead of night.

I think these days it’s been the best picture of how I feel inside—high highs and low lows, and waves that won’t let up.


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And I wish I could point at one event, one thing in my life that brought me here; but I can’t. The prophet Jeremiah once said, “crash follows hard on crash”–and that feels like the perfect description of life sometimes: Crash upon crash. Wave after wave. And a hurried gasp in between.

Sometimes life just feels like drowning, and sometimes life abundant seems daunting when you’re just trying to keep your head above water.

These days, while I’m gazing at the Santa Cruz waves, I’m also watching the surfers who rise above them. And I remember what every surfer out there knows: Waves hit hard, but waves come in sets; and storms, like seasons, don’t last forever.


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Spring starts tomorrow, a detail I would normally let pass right by me—but tonight I’m clinging to this inconsequential day on our calendar, as my promise that nothing lasts forever. Winters and waves are seasons, and these too shall pass.

And I don’t cling to this promise lightly, but I cling to it between those hurried gasps for breath, knowing that without it, life loses hope and purpose. Waves of injustice, hurt, and meaninglessness will pull me under.

Like that prophet Jeremiah, I cling to this promise like the hope he calls to mind in the midst of his long lament. In the middle of pages and pages of tears and injustice, death and pain; he pens these words, “but this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope; The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning…”




Dawn is coming. Spring is coming. His mercies are new every morning.

I’ve been upset about this dying, about getting dragged under by these waves.

But maybe these crashing waves have been a baptism. And maybe this slow death is just a chance for resurrection, a chance to be brought to life–by the One who makes all things new.

the shadow proves the sunshine

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As laughter and tears collide

Our hearts are as heavy as they are light,* and it feels contradictory–a great paradox. But who hasn’t laughed through tears or felt their highs mix in with their lows?

This weekend I cried tears of sadness intermingled with tears of joy. Laughs were indistinguishable from the few sobs that escaped my pursed lips. Memories brought on floods of emotions from opposing sides and met in a wave that threatened to knock me over. And it’s hard to reconcile the highest of highs existing simultaneously with the lowest of lows. It feels like the existence of one should diminish the substance of the other–like the smiles mean I don’t feel the grief, or the tears mean I don’t cherish the memories.

But what if the existence of both further substantiates the other? What is joy, if we have no sadness to contrast it with; and what is redemption, if we see no brokenness from which we yearn to be redeemed?

I’ve felt grief and laughter that falls hollowed out and empty. I’ve seen death. I’ve seen the grave. And through it all, I’ve seen a hope that’s stronger.

It’s a hope that does not trivialize my grief, but a hope that is substantiated by its existence. It’s a hope that creates in me a deeper longing than ever before, because…

I now know for what it is I hope.
I hope for no more crippling pain, no more tears, no more despair, and no more death.
I hope for redemption of our broken bodies and our sinful pasts.

And it’s not a trivial wish–a “that would be nice”–but a deep longing for a Savior and a heavy realization that I am in a world that needs to be saved.

It’s looking into the grave of a man I love and clinging to the hope that this is not the end. It’s seeing cancer and sickness and pain and looking expectantly to a day when our weakness will be no more.

My father spoke this Saturday at my grandfather’s memorial service and declared that this is not a “hope that” or a “hope so,” but a confident expectation. This hope is faith–true faith, grounded faith–the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things unseen.

It’s a hope founded on promises that have been fulfilled and lives that have been changed. It’s founded on glimpses of redemption, reconciliation and transformation–in my own life and the lives of those I love.

So this hope is not trivial. It’s not a fairy tale or a shallow illusion. If despair, depression and death are real, I hold that hope is real even more.

I looked into the grave of a man I loved this weekend, but I have the confidence that I will see him again. Because while I know the pain of death and suffering, I know the joy and the promises of the One who overcame the grave. I know that in this world, he promised tribulation. But I also know that he told me to take heart, for He has overcome the world.

I know that nothing can separate us from the love that is in Christ Jesus–not death nor life nor things present nor things to come, nor anything in all of creation.

And I know that one day my hope will find its confident expectation fulfilled, because:
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Though tears will fall, though grief is real, my voice cries hallelujah for the hope of heaven and the day when all will be made new.


See you soon, grandpa.







*Heavy and light is an idea I heard first from To Write Love on Her Arms (TWLOHA) at their recent Heavy and Light show. It was an amazing show by an organization I admire.

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A Longing Unfulfilled

Some moments are so beautiful that you almost find yourself dreading their passing before they’ve even ended.

You sit and soak it all in, because you know this is all you have. You can’t bottle it up. A picture can never convey the way you feel in this moment—complete, content, satisfied.

If you told me to think of one of these moments, I could flash back to several in my mind. Moments I tried to capture, but couldn’t—not fully.

I remember one Christmas season in particular. I was home on winter break from college. It was Christmas Eve and we were all opening presents, as is tradition in my family. I remember hearing the Christmas music, noticing the glow of the Christmas lights, and watching all my brothers and sisters open their gifts.  Sitting there on my fold out bed in the middle of the living room, I just remember feeling so content, so full. But I also felt a strange pang of sadness, because I knew that moment had to end—that life would not always feel that way.

christmas tree 3

Because, sometimes life is made up of other moments—moments of longing. Times when you look back on those moments of contentment, trying to grasp them—to make them materialize into something real and concrete. If you can grow them, just maybe, they will fill you. Maybe… you will be satisfied.

I know this feeling all too well. When things get hard or stressful, I live in those moments. Today, I spent a good ten minutes or so just looking through my dad’s pictures, wanting to be home and missing my family. I’m a trained expert in nostalgia, flashing back through my Rolodex of photographic memories at every whim. In a moment, I’m back.

But back where? I’m inside a memory, and a false one at that, painted over with a golden hue and infused with the emotion I’ve given it every time I’ve recalled it.

Our memories are not bad. We should remember Christmases with our families, the good parts of a relationship, and the beautiful parts of a growing friendship. There is beauty in those moments, but the beauty doesn’t come because those moments last.

Polaroid at the Beach
The beauty comes because those moments are fleeting. They are for a second and you will never get them back; but for that glorious second, you can catch a glimpse of glory. In that moment, you can catch what it feels like to belong, to be loved, to be full and complete, filled and overflowing in every way.

And those glimpses are beautiful because they point to a time when we will be complete.

Our families on earth are not perfect, but we know what it’s like to long for that. We know what it’s like to cling to the moments that are good and block out the memories that hurt. We know what it’s like to want to belong and what it’s like to long for home.

We know what it’s like to long for a relationship or a friendship. We want to know someone and be known. We want to know that, at the core of who we are, we are truly loved and accepted.

Our longings are strong. Sometimes we choose to feel them, sometimes we choose to deny them, and sometimes we run to fill them with something that can’t hold the weight of our heart.

When I feel these longings—the cries of my heart to be accepted, to be loved—I remember the one place where I have been truly loved and recklessly pursued. I remember that Jesus chose to give Himself for me while I was deliberately and intentionally hurting him.

I remember that he adopted me and calls me daughter.

I remember that he gave me grace and freedom from the things that enslaved me.

I remember that he pursued me with a reckless abandon.

I remember that He created me and knows me more fully than any human ever could.

He knows me, the real me, the worst parts of me…

and yet…

… He still loves me.

He calls me home and that is where I belong. Every desire I have that is unfulfilled, every pang of loneliness I feel will be met in Him one day. He has given me friends and family, joy and beauty, in this life; but it doesn’t end here.

I rejoice in my unfulfilled longings, because they point me to a day when I will finally exclaim, “I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now…Come further up, come further in!”*


“I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy. The most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.” – C.S. Lewis

*From ‘The Last Battle’ by C.S. Lewis, his seventh book in the Chronicles of Narnia series

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For Those Who Doubt

When he first told me he was doubting his faith, it felt like someone had hit me in the gut.

This wasn’t even my faith crisis; it was his. But it hurt even still. I cared deeply for this friend. We had grown up together, gone to youth group together. We had spent hours talking about Jesus and faith and life, and I just couldn’t fathom how this could happen. Sure, others walk away from their faith, but not my friends. I thought we were all going to make it through this journey. I didn’t plan for this.

And it wasn’t just him. Soon, it was more friends. Friends deciding that the faith they had grown up with just didn’t fit them anymore.

I was heartbroken and didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t identify with them because, at that time, my faith had never been more real for me. I tried to offer advice, anecdotes, articles, evidence.

Sometimes, I pretended their questions didn’t exist. If we don’t talk about the doubt in their life, maybe it will disappear like some phase they’re going through. Sometimes, I felt upset–offended, even. This was the faith I had staked my life on, my identity. It hurt to watch someone who once held that same faith so dear, start to let it go.

I guess it scared me. It scared me that my friends who I once thought were so resolved in their beliefs, were human after all–humans with real doubts, real questions and real trials in their lives

…And none of my answers could help them.

My answers couldn’t help them because doubt isn’t solved by an article sent via Facebook. It’s not wrapped up and resolved with a clever axiom or list of scientific evidence. Doubt is a real struggle, and it deserves a REAL answer.

If anyone has any right to be offended at doubt, it’s Jesus. If anyone could choose to walk away from doubters, to leave them sitting with all their questions, it’s Jesus. He, better than anyone else, knows the price that was paid on the cross. He has no obligation to prove anything to anyone.

But Jesus doesn’t see it like that.

When Thomas, one of Jesus’s disciples, heard the disciples say that Jesus is alive, risen from the dead, he didn’t believe it. He didn’t believe Jesus’s promises that he would rise from the dead and he doesn’t believe the witnesses who saw him risen. Instead, he says,Unless I see the nail marks in his hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

A week later, Jesus comes to Thomas and the other disciples.

And Jesus doesn’t just shrug off Thomas’s doubts. He doesn’t ignore him. He doesn’t belittle him. He doesn’t leave Thomas to wrestle with his doubts alone.

He answers Thomas directly. He gives Thomas the evidence he asked for. He says, “Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.”

When Thomas doubts Him, Jesus isn’t offended. He isn’t scared of Thomas’s doubts. He doesn’t tell Thomas that he just needs to get over it. He doesn’t yell in Thomas’s face, telling him all that He has done for him.

He simply holds out his hands and asks Thomas to put his fingers through the nail-pierced holes in His wrists.

He has mercy on Thomas.

Because the same Love that would take those nails through His wrists and hang on a cross for you, is the same Love that will gladly hold out those hands to you when you doubt.

Jesus isn’t surprised at doubt; he’s not even angry. He’s merciful and he’s patient, not willing that any should perish.

So, it’s okay to doubt. And it’s okay to talk about your doubt. Don’t close up. Don’t run away. Don’t keep silent. Lean into your doubts. Thomas was honest to others about how he felt. “Unless I see… I will not believe.”

Do what it takes to wrestle with your doubt. Talk to others. Search for answers. Cry out to God to reveal himself to you, because he draws near to those who draw near to Him. Don’t sit, waiting for your doubt to simply pass, like some juvenile phase. Lift your head and reach out your hand, because He is waiting for you to see him–to feel him. But whatever you do, keep wrestling, because the love that is holding out His hands to you, is worth the fight.

Real Doubt; Real Stories

I think stories are some of the most powerful tools we have to work through doubt. Here are some stories of amazing people and their struggles with doubt and feeling like an  impostor in their own faith.

(If you read one, read it in its entirety. It’s worth it.) 

The Day I Stopped Believing in God by Micah Murray

“I was haunted by fear. My faith was a house of cards, and I knew it was only a matter of time until the day the last support was pulled away and it all collapsed.”

Questioning Faith by Lore Ferguson

“All my life, and especially all my Christian life, asking questions was out of the question.”

All the Orphans of the World by Duane Scott

“I don’t know how you can say that. I don’t know how you find the strength because you and I are the same age and yet, if that had happened to me, I would doubt God even existed.”

The Christianity Club by Stephanie May

“From the outside, others would say I do it right. I fit in. I belong to the club. But for the past six months, I’ve felt like an impostor.”

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What if I don’t want to be gentle and quiet?

“Oh, but I’m not like other girls.” “Girls are too emotional.” “Guy friendships are so much easier to maintain.” 

I cannot count how many times I have heard these words and I am guilty of speaking them far too often.  And every time I hear them it’s another stab into the soul of the woman God created. We are “too much” of this and we are “not enough” of that. I have spent too much of my life trying to distance myself from who I am–who I was created to be, because I had a warped image of what it means to be a woman.

I had two pictures in my head of women:

I had the image of the “mean girl”–and I had seen my share of them. The girls who talked about me behind my back and the ones who made me feel insecure. The ‘mean girl’ was always trying to be on top and would put others down in the process.

Then I had the image of the demure woman–living with an unending list of how to dress, how to act like a lady, what not to say, what not to wear. She wasn’t supposed to speak her mind or dress in a way that called attention to herself. There was always something she was doing wrong–and even more often, something someone else around her was doing wrong.

I decided I didn’t want to be either of these, but I didn’t have a picture of what I should be. So I just tried to shun both, and in the process, was more confused than before. I tried to dress pretty, but not immodestly. I tried to hide a lot of things I liked or play down certain qualities, so I could create the image I wanted. And I could still totally hang out with the guys, because I wasn’t emotional and ‘girly’ like those ‘other girls’… what a mess.

When I went to the Bible, I only got more confused:

“Let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious” -1 Peter 3:4

If you’re anything like me, the verse above doesn’t sound very appealing–in fact, it can sound downright offensive. It brings up that image of the demure woman.

And what if I don’t want to be gentle and quiet? What if I want to debate ideas about life, theology and politics as much as the guy sitting next to me? Sports and skydiving don’t sound very gentle. Investigating hard-hitting journalistic stories doesn’t feel very quiet …and by this point, I’m not really buying this verse.

But then I think of the women I’ve seen in the Bible.

I think of the beauty and bravery of Esther.
… the persistence and courage of Ruth
… the bold lies told by Rahab to defend the Israeli spies.

The image of the woman I see here is beautiful and strong–worthy of emulating. I had gotten something wrong.

A “gentle and quiet spirit” doesn’t mean a gentle and quiet person–a  woman who stays unseen and only speaks when spoken to. Gentle and quiet are used to describe our spirit, our inner being–our identity.

A gentle and quiet spirit is one that has found her identity in something strong, something immovable. She is gentle because she is still. She is rooted. She is quiet because she knows her own identity. She doesn’t have to scream it for others to hear. She doesn’t have to argue with the people who misunderstand her. She is content knowing who she is.

A woman who cuts down other women to find her identity has a spirit is in turmoil, always struggling to stay on top.

At the same time, the woman who feels insecure isn’t any better.  I know this, because I’ve been this girl and this woman too many times, “scorned” by those around me. It’s easy to feel morally superior as the underdog. But this woman is the same as the others. She is angry and insecure, because her soul is in turmoil–searching for affirmation. Love me. Acknowledge me. Then, and only then, will I be content with who I am.

And the woman who has a list of do’s and don’ts to follow? Her soul doesn’t feel very gentle. It feels pressed down on by the weight of morality–the weight of being the woman she “should be.” And in turn, she can feel bitter towards those around her. “I can’t believe she’s wearing that.” “I can’t believe she did that.” “I would never…”

At one point or another, I have been all of these women. And I can say first hand that it is tiring. I spend my days feeling exhausted; my soul never at rest. It is constantly striving–to be noticed, to be loved, to be important.

Having a gentle and quiet spirit isn’t easy in a world that demands so much. It feels almost unfair to pile on another expectation for women. But, this isn’t an obligation; it’s a call to surrender. Come to him all you who are weary and HE will give you rest. The thoughts and pressures that wage war on your soul–He battles those for you. He give you an identity; a purpose.

A woman with a gentle and quiet spirit has an identity that is rooted in something that will last. She knows she is fearfully and wonderfully made. She doesn’t have a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7).

She can chase her goals and her dreams without fear, knowing that He put those unique desires in her heart and He is the one who gives her to power to achieve them. She can speak up because her soul is not burdened by the fear of others looking down on her. Her words are flavored with the kindness of the One who has been kind to her. She can love others fearlessly, expecting nothing in return, because she knows she is already perfectly loved.

She can rest in who she is.

On the inside, her spirit is gentle and quiet.

On the outside, she looks different every time–an irreplaceable individual, loved by the One who created her, with her own passions, skills, dreams, and desires.

She can rest easy, because she is already loved.

She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future.
– Proverbs 31:25

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We Are All Broken

Hey, can I tell you a secret? … I’m not perfect.

Well, I guess that’s obvious. But you would think it was a secret by the way I try to hide it–the way we all try to hide it from time to time, “Instagramming our perfect life.” What you see on my instagram is smiling pictures and exciting adventures in Europe. What you don’t see is “Hey I know I’m studying abroad in Spain but I accidentally woke up at 2pm and won’t leave my room for the rest of the day.”

What you see on my blog is lessons that God has been teaching me and conclusions tied up in a pretty bow. What you don’t see is me ignoring those lessons and falling flat on my face over and over and over again.

I’ve had people come up to me and compliment me before, telling me I’m perfect. They tell me they’ve had discussions with other people about how perfect my life is. Now, I am blessed. I can’t deny that. But I, as a person, am so incredibly far from perfect.

There’s a quote that says “Our greatest fear should not be of failure, but of succeeding at something that doesn’t really matter.”

And this is my fear:

My fear is that I will succeed at appearing perfect because If I do, I have failed at displaying the gospel in my life–that Christ would give his life for an imperfect person like me–for a broken girl who has done absolutely nothing deserving of his love.

If I appear perfect, people will think that that’s what it takes to earn God’s love–that they need to get their lives together BEFORE they come to Christ. NOTHING is further from the truth. 

It’s so easy to only show the strong parts of my life, to only show the little revelations instead of the gaping questions.

It’s a pride struggle sometimes. I don’t want to cry in front of people or let them into certain parts of my life. I don’t want them to see me curled up, crying on my bed over heartache. I don’t want to keep telling people the same prayer request, because I think, “Well, by now, I certainly should be over that struggle.”

I want to help you with your pain, but I don’t want to let you see mine.

And through every tiny success at appearing perfect, I’m failing in a big way. I’m failing to tell you that Jesus Christ changed, and is changing, my life in a radical way. I’m failing to tell you that I did nothing to earn it. I’m failing to tell you that, on my own, I’m broken and I can’t do this on my own.

This isn’t meant to be depressing. It’s meant to be realistic. The joy I have is real. The forgiveness I have is real. However, if I’m not honest with people about my heartbreak, my joy seems trivial. If I’m not honest with people about my failures, no one will know from what I’ve been forgiven.

And, if we’re all honest with ourselves, we know there are things that bring us to our knees. We all have questions we can’t answer and heartbreak we can’t heal.

But, in the midst of all the questions, I know this: I know that “While we were still sinners Christ died for us.” I know that he rose again so that we could have “life and life more abundantly.” And I know that he’s the only one who can pick up these broken pieces and make us whole.

And I know He loves you–all of you, not just the parts you wrap up in a pretty bow.

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Why Be Thankful?

Why are you thankful? I’m not asking what you’re thankful for, but for what purpose are you thankful? To what end?

Every year around this time, I get together with all the people I love the most, enter some sort of food coma induced narcoleptic state, and think of how amazingly blessed I am. Sometimes we will go around the Thanksgiving table and share things we’re thankful for. Sometimes, it’s just me writing out lists in journals or putting papers in a praise box. And all of this is amazing. Family, joy, celebration–they’re all gifts from God. And that’s why we give Him thanks.

Thankful for my crazy cousins and my grandma

However, what happens after we give thanks? What happens we wake from our food comas and go back to the daily grind? What was the purpose of those lists and those days off for the giving of thanks?

I think this is the purpose of giving thanks:

“Therefore if you have any encouragement from being united with Christ, if any comfort from his love, if any common sharing in the Spirit, if any tenderness and compassion,then make my joy complete by being like-minded, having the same love, being one in spirit and of one mind. Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves,not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.” – Philippians 2:1-4

I am so thankful to Christ for his love and his comfort. I am thankful that He pursues me with his love and stays with me when I’m hard to love. I’m overwhelmed by the strength He gives me in temptation and the freedom that comes from his grace. I’m amazed at how he has carried me through heartache and so grateful for the ways he used it to help me grow. However, if I stop at giving thanks, I’ve only gone halfway. God blessed me so I can bless others. I love that line in Hillsong’s “Desert Song” that says, “I know I’m filled to be emptied again, the seed I’ve received I will sow.”

We are filled to be emptied again. Giving thanks is realizing what God has filled us with. We acknowledge the gifts, not only because it is amazing that God chooses to bless us, but also to acknowledge the ways we can use these gifts to bless others. In James, James says that faith without works is dead. I believe this is the same with thanksgiving. Thanksgiving without works is dead. 

This is why we have this command in Colossians:

And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him. – Colossians 3:17

We give thanks AS we take action. While we are doing things in word or deed, we are giving thanks. Thanksgiving is the fuel that allows us to do things in the name of the Lord Jesus.

Let’s give thanks around tables full of friends, food, and family; but let’s also give thanks by words and deeds to the people in our lives who need them most.


You can follow me on twitter @bekahvalencia. Thanks for reading!

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You’ve Gotta’ Have Faith

I often hear the phrase, “You’ve gotta’ have faith.” When someone’s having a hard time, they repeat it like a mantra: “You’ve gotta have faith;” or they sing George Michael as they “show their baby the door.”

But with all this talk about faith, what does it really mean?

Faith in what? In love? In yourself? In God?

I would always say that I had faith in God, meaning that I believed he existed. But while I had faith in God, I would bemoan the life he gave me, gripe about my circumstances, and begrudgingly think that this life was just the cross I had to bear. However, this isn’t the picture of faith that Hebrews 11 gives.

Hebrews 11:6 says that it is impossible to please God without faith, and says that whoever comes to God must believe that He is, and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him.

I’ve come to the point in my relationship with Jesus that I don’t doubt his existence. Sometimes I don’t understand Him, sometimes I’m even frustrated or angry with the way He allows things to happen or with things I don’t understand about Him. BUT I never doubt that he exists. I thought this was faith, and I thought this was enough–belief that Jesus exists.

BUT, notice the second part of the verse. He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him. How many times do we feel like we’re subjecting ourselves to some kind of sad life because we’re following Jesus. “Ok, Jesus, I’ll follow you, even if it means I’ll be miserable.” How many times to we expect to be subjected to a monotonous list of obligations? Oh! But contraire my friends.

Jesus is a REWARDER of those who diligently seek Him. He’s a loving Father who wants to bless us. Now, this doesn’t mean that this life will be easy. The Christian life isn’t going to be butterflies and rainbows. There’s real hurt, real challenges. Anyone who’s known Jesus for even a little bit can tell you that. BUT we can have faith that there is a reward for all of this. In this life and after this life.

In this life, the rewards are harder to see. There are hard times that we’re all going to go through. But we have a relationship with an omnipotent Father who loves us and knows us personally. We’re never alone. We KNOW that all things work together for good, and that He will withhold no good thing from those who walk uprightly.  Even when we don’t understand his ways–even when we go through trials. We can have FAITH that he is a rewarder of those who are seeking Him. We can have faith that somehow, Jesus is growing us through our hardships. He is using our lives, he is making us stronger, and he is working all things together for good. And when the rewards of this life are hard to see, when the tribulations of this world bring you down, we can remember:

In this world, we will have trials and tribulations, but TAKE HEART, for he has OVERCOME the world! -John 16:33

And after this life: We will live forever with the one who loves us, with the one who died for us, with the one who knows us fully and completely and loves us just the same. We will be in a place with no more tears, no more pain. “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. (Rev. 21:4)

So take heart! Your fight is not in vain. And when you’re feeling down, when you’re upset, just remember: YOU’VE GOTTA’ HAVE FAITH.


You can follow me on twitter @bekahvalencia. Thanks for reading!

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