MAYBE, I COULD STILL BE SOMETHING...IN THE LAND OF THE LIVING
I’ve tried so hard. I’ve poured myself into projects, into prayers, into parenting. I’ve sacrificed, built, restarted, and still—still—I feel like I’ve failed at everything I’ve attempted. There’s so much evidence of failed effort. So many failed happenings. So many moments where I gave my all and still came up short. And I cried. Constantly. Quietly. I cried in the kind of way that made me question whether God was even listening.
Then God answered.
Not with a solution which is really what I was hoping for. Not with a strategy which I felt that I really needed. But with a scripture: Psalm 27.
I didn’t understand it. I read it slowly, hoping something would leap off the page and explain why this was the verse God gave me buy nothing. I cried some more then I got to verses 13 and 14:
*“I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”*
I read those lines again and again thinking maybe the answer was here. And still, I didn’t get it. Maybe I didn't want to, msybe it just felt like it didn't really apply yo me.
I felt as though my children were watching me fail over and over again. They watched everything I tried to grow thrive for a while and then die either very slowly or unsettlingly quickly.
How do you take heart when your hands are tired and your spirit feels worn thin?
How do you stay strong when everything you’ve build seems to come to a crumbling halt?
I told God I couldn’t afford to keep failing. I have four young children. I have dreams that feel like they’re slipping through my fingers--some I knew had already slipped, fallen and broke.
Yet I have a heart that’s been faithful, even when the outcomes have been brutal. Even when the ache in my soul was so painful that I choked on my words and I couldn't stop the tears from falling.
So, why Psalm 27? Why God? What is it supposed to teach me? What am. I suppose to learn?
And I start to stroke the idea of being nothing. Content to live as though I am dead if that's what God wanted--but them? What about my children?
I could if it were just me, live as nothing but I already have one kid who seems to give up if it's too tough and he sighs when I said my voice breaking "I don't understand, I try so hard." and so I can't give up because he'll give up too. I can't give up because I told them that's something we never do, not here, not in this household--no matter how many times we fail.
Maybe God gave me Psalm 27 because David—the man who wrote it—wasn’t writing from a place of comfort. He was writing from a place of pursuit, of danger, of displacement. He was hunted. Misunderstood. And still, he said, “I will see goodness.” Not in heaven. Not someday. But here. In the land of the living.
That’s when I realized: Psalm 27 isn’t a victory speech. It’s a survival song.
It’s God saying, I see your ache. I honor your sorrow. And I’m not done with you.
It’s not a promise that everything will be easy. It’s a reminder that even in the waiting, even in the weariness, even in the sadness that sits at the center of your chest—He is still writing. Still weaving. Still working.
And maybe purpose isn’t a destination. Maybe it’s the posture of a woman who keeps showing up. Who keeps praying. Who keeps loving her children even when she feels empty. Who keeps asking God for clarity even when the answers feel cryptic.
Maybe purpose is being refined in the fire.
Maybe goodness is on its way.
And maybe Psalm 27 is the proof that I haven’t been forgotten.
So I’ll wait.
I’ll take heart.
And I’ll believe—however shakily—that I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.
Even here. Even now. Even me.
Yes me, a hopeful nobody who still sits and gleams at the Lord.
faith in the fire, motherhood, purpose, exhaustion, waiting on God, legacy building, divine timing, purpose in pain, crying out to God, emotional truth, strength through trials, faith journey,
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