Changes

Change isn't something most of us seek out. But sometimes, when we've spent a lifetime avoiding it, it has a way of finding us anyway. And when it does, it can feel like a season where every part of our lives—our address, our career, our relationships—transforms all at once.

Even through the changes, the most important part of us remains steadfast: our deepest identity. This is the anchor that holds us when everything else feels adrift. It's the core of who we are, a constant that we can hold onto, even as that self is changing.

Often, profound change is fueled by deep, unbearable pain. While pain can be a powerful motivator, it's fair to question if it was truly a prerequisite for our growth. The changes we make, though transformative, can come with a difficult side effect: a struggle to trust again.

It’s an uncomfortable truth. We don't want to live a life of second-guessing people's motives. We want to refuse to believe that a new clarity of the world must come at the cost of a cynical heart. You are not meant to be suspicious and disappointed in humanity. You still want to love unconditionally and believe in the goodness of people.

So, how do we rebuild when our foundation has been shaken? How do we start a new life and move forward with confidence? It can feel like a high-stakes chess game, where every move is calculated to avoid checkmate.

Embracing Growth Beyond the Safe-Zone

Living in the safe-zone might feel comfortable, but it's not truly a life of freedom; it's a lot like moving backward. When we cling to what's familiar and avoid risk, we're not just standing still—we're actively resisting the flow of life and the opportunities for growth that come with it. True freedom is found in the ability to adapt, to learn, and to face the unknown with courage. It's in the quiet confidence that even if we stumble, we'll get back up, stronger and wiser than before. Staying within the confines of our comfort zone only limits our potential, keeping us from discovering our true capabilities and the richness that a life of exploration and change can offer.

The true challenge in this season is learning to trust ourselves again. When the foundation of our lives has been shaken, it's natural to second-guess our every move, to wonder if our past decisions led us here. The path forward is about more than just making the right decisions; it's about rebuilding the confidence to believe in our ability to make them.

This journey requires a delicate balance between calculated movement and the courage to take a leap of faith. A calculated move feels safe—it's a step we can logically justify. A leap of faith, however, is a move that relies on a deeper intuition and a trust in something bigger than ourselves. The goal isn't to live solely in the safe zone or to leap blindly, but to learn when to do both. We must learn to see the whole board, not with the paralyzing fear of checkmate, but with a renewed sense of purpose and trust in the possibilities ahead.

This is where faith becomes our guide. The journey to a new beginning can feel like a desolate place, a wasteland. But the divine promise is clear, as it says in Isaiah 43:19: "See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland."

This scripture is a powerful reminder that even in our hardest seasons, something new is being created. We can trust that a way will be made, even when we can't yet see it. It is a call to perceive the new thing that is springing up, to have faith that even in the driest parts of our journey, a stream of grace and provision is waiting to be found.