At a time when it was just me, a window, half a smile, pieces of paper with short fragile prayers that I usually find in my pockets, unorganizedpoems that I never finish, the past months, the lessons written on broken places of my heart, and the present state of the faithful Giver of my life, I pondered on life and how when I walk through the valley, I actually have to walk, not lay down and die.

This is a journey out of normality.

This is the good fight.

I wonder if there's any proper statement to say in front of the things encountered in the race. Maybe yes, maybe not, butI've said yes to the process, and it’s been inexpressibly revealing. I see how the process of life comes with different times, (laughter, wait, pain, miracles, confusion, silence, solitude, tears, joy) some more hurtful than others. It might remind us of sanctification which is great to remember however, I guess I can also refer to this as a process of believing in the face of unbelief that my name is still tied in endless roots in the Father’s hands when Satan comes to kill, and my flesh absolute weak yet the Father has given the ultimate gift for my life and the seasons in it.

Sometimes, in a rough time to believe comes from a place of kicking and screaming on the inside, or in the in between: the waiting for a new dawn that draws us to look more like the Savior because it’s also at our darkest hours where we are to fight to abide. Our surrender matters and it doesn't always look pretty but it's valuable toJesus. The rawness, the weakness, and the brokenness of our expression that comes within everything that is shaking and seems out of place is valuable to him.

There are many thoughts during the stormy season but when I think that in the valley I haven't done something worthwhile, I ask the Lord to help me remember when on the ground, couldn’t do it anymore, have no prayer left, falling not wanting to die but fight to abide in the room of surrender at the His feet because there is still indestructible conviction that He is real and greater than this hardship though to "believe" seemed somehow distorted.

Will He give joy in sorrow? Is rejoicing possible in pain? These are questions I've often asked knowing that the common, simple and true answer is a yes, but I've rather add that He will give even more than a sense of relief. Knowing that His presence is with us turns into a smile maybe not a visible one but it’s for sure one in the most inner part of your heart and will flourish from the inside out that will speak as a testimony of being carried. This is from the reality that the Father pulls the lonely into family. He sends help to the hurt. This is from the truths I’ve held onto that is keeping me up, and the declarations that I need to remind myself every single day. From a place where my very best has been my weakest yet in the stirred seas. From where His eyes are becoming my mirror therefore, I see no shame there so I can finally breath. From the battle of remembering this every single day. From a place where I'm changing, being made brand new, and know Him in my desert, that I've learned to honor, where He has proven His love for me. From the craziest tensions. From the second when I feel like I don’t know where to find him. For where the pressure is real, yet His presence is greater. I can sit down under His love shade and my soul finds rest.

I'm thankful for our sympathizing High Priest. He knows, and so my joy comes from this truth. Step by step he gives us understanding, compassion, bravery that leads back to having him as our exclusive source of delight in moments of difficulty not necessarily seen through dancing or jumping but it can also be the deepest adoration to the Father to sit down, and contemplate His faithfulness, strength, comfort, and healing as I move forward the promised land: The opening of my eyes to see Him for who He is, a good father in spite of all the suffering that I walked through and still walk through, it’s the promise of His goodness. There's no goal of having it all together tomorrow for He is absolutely giving me what He promised: comfort, life, strength and grace to keep going as He picks up all my pieces and put me back together until the glorious day. I am walking and He is helping me. Never knew love could be this good, outrageous, unending, and unfailing.

Breakthrough?

To experience this love is my breakthrough in my darkest hours.

To experience this love is my life-changing miracle.

To the hurting one, sometimes we're in these seasons we don't even know how to name. I was feeling exhausted and barely strongly believing but somehow had energy to look back miles and through the thick trees and unanswered questions and the mystery of the process and I saw Him with me the entire time and for the rest of the trail He will also be. He was there, not tired at all. He works wonders even in the unknown places, the unseen things. His faithfulness has become my greatest defense in my most vulnerable hour. There are days where I've hated it but there is gold and treasure in our process. Be with God.

Even if you don’t feel strong now, the simple fact of wanting to be absolutely dependent on His strength is enough to agree with His will for you. He is to fill us with courage to continue until the finality of our temporary journey. As for now, I pray that when He looks down from heaven He finds a heart that is undivided and in full pursue of Him even when it’s from a valley of difficulty. Even if there's failure to do so, then a heart in recognition of our divine help.

I accompany you. It's going to be fine soon, not exactly perfect like eternity but until then, there is such Friend standing beside the grave that also have all the broken dreams, dead desires, the old "damaged", identity, and happiness. Such Friend who knows every detail behind of it all that sometimes the contemporary era pretends to go over by saying, "come on, have faith, trust, let it go, and get over it". He knows better than that and above all wording surfaces, he cares so much more, and he feels it like nobody else is capable of feeling it, and he cries with you while he recites your name in his prayers. He is truly touched by your tears and it means so much to him. He doesn't only stands there. He is to turn the night to day. He is to sing and wake our heart and make it beat again. We are rise up from the grave. With cords of loving kindness, he is to bide us to him and wrap us in his great mercy and help us in his meekness to redefine us. There is nothing that we can face that hasn’t been already defeated by such Savior. He paid it all. The grave is not our inheritance.

Finally, dear reader, look around, ask Him for sensitivity, ask Him to quiet you, and give you words beyond motivation or resolution: of sympathy towards the hurting saint. If it's silence, there's also beauty in honoring it and let it be to fellowship with. Even more than the expectation of the hurt to be healed up by our own deadline, there's beauty in pressing on with him/her in the daily journey of fighting the good fight and embracing the process together.