A woman who spent most of her life being remarkably capable — organized, efficient, always moving toward the next thing — found herself in a slower season. Stopping felt like losing something. But gradually something shifted. She noticed the quiet was not empty. When she simply sat in deliberate trust rather than filling the hours with tasks, a deep, unhurried strength arrived from somewhere outside herself. She said with quiet certainty: “I used to think strength meant doing more. Now I know it sometimes means doing less.”
Tag: Elisabeth Elliot
His Unshakeable Hope, Hold Unto It
An older woman on a gray afternoon says quietly to herself: “Hope isn’t a feeling you wait to have. It’s something you choose to hold onto — even when you don’t feel it.” Something loosens in her chest. She says it again, more quietly: “And the beautiful thing is, when I hold onto hope, I realize that God has been holding onto me all along.” The anchor was set before the storm arrived.
His Joy in the Morning
An older woman lies awake at 3 a.m. with thoughts she would not dare think in daylight. She does not sleep again — but she waits. Slowly, the light begins. She gets up, moves to the window, pulls back the curtains. The sky is pink and gold. And something lifts in her chest — not the erasure of last night’s heaviness, but something arriving alongside it, gentle and unhurried. She says softly, to no one and to God at once: “God gave me another sunrise.”
His Everlasting Arms Never Get Tired of Holding Us
A gentleman who spent his whole life as “the strong one” said with a wry laugh: “Chaplain, I used to hold everyone else up. Now I need someone to hold me.” I replied: “God’s arms are strong enough for you.” He looked at me — and then we both burst out laughing. Not because it was funny exactly, but because of the relief in it. He did not have to be strong anymore. He could just be held.
His Peace in Waiting
An older woman sitting in a sunlit room with a cold cup of tea and a Bible in her lap. A younger friend asks how she is holding up. After a pause she says with a small smile: “I’ve spent a lot of my life waiting. But I think I’m learning — finally — to wait with peace instead of worry.” Delays are not denials. Silence is not absence. He is working — in the waiting, through the waiting.
The Passion #7 – The Quiet Waiting
Faith in the Silence.
We often think of God in the “big” moments, but Holy Saturday reminds us of His presence in the quiet. On Day 7 of our journey, we reflect on the “in-between” day—the day of waiting. If you are in a season where things feel slow or God feels silent, take heart. The tomb was not the end; it was the preparation for the greatest miracle in history. Today, we wait in hope, knowing that the morning is coming.