This post begins a new 10-part series called The Grace to Make Changes—a reflection on what it means to build, believe, and become in the middle of disruption. Inspired by the life of Noah in Genesis 6 and a sermon that stirred something deep in me, this series explores how grace meets us not at the finish line, but at the first trembling step. Each post stands alone, but together they trace a journey of faith through fear, obedience through doubt, and growth even in the most uncertain places.
This first entry isn’t polished. It wasn’t written for others. It started as a prayer I scribbled in my journal during one of the most in-between seasons of my life. But it still speaks to where I am now—and maybe, where you are too.
Written in January 2024. Revisited with new eyes.
In January of last year, I was in North Carolina, in a strange season of waiting. We were in transition—again. My husband was wrapping up his military career and had cards on the table for a SkillBridge assignment. Boeing in St. Louis. Lockheed Martin in Alabama. Maybe even something in Atlanta. It was all so up in the air, but one thing we knew: we wanted to come back to the South. I had just flown to Montgomery for an on-site interview with James Hardie. Everything felt fragile and uncertain—but also full of possibility.
And in the middle of all that movement, I felt a tug to fast.
I didn’t feel brave enough to share it then, but I wrote this prayer in my journal. I didn’t even know what kind of fast. I just knew there was something stirring that required more than routine. I needed closeness. I needed clarity. And I needed to hear from God.
A prayer from my journal, January 2024
(lightly edited for flow)
Lord Father,
I’ve been feeling like I should fast—but I’m scared. Scared to fail. Scared to disrespect the meaning of it.
I know fasting is about drawing closer to You. I’ve heard of different kinds of fasting, but I don’t know what You want me to give up. What do You think, Lord? I’m hungry for wisdom, knowledge, and understanding. I want to be led by You. I want to walk with the Holy Spirit and bear fruit.
I want to become who You’ve called me to be—wherever You want me to be.
Maybe I need You to speak more directly, because I struggle to trust myself. I saw the owl at James Hardie and thought maybe You sent it for me. But what does it mean? Was I reading too much into it?
Should I ask someone else? Should I just wait? Should I trust what I feel is You?
Do I trust You enough to let You shine through me, even when I don’t understand?
Don’t let me do any of this for recognition. Let it all be for You—for Your glory, for Your Kingdom.
Let me bear Your fruit. Keep me rooted in Your Word.
Let my spirit line up with my body and soul. Let me move with You. Let me trust You.
This is not about what came before. This is a rebirth. This is an awakening.
What is for me will be for me. I will make it.
Sometimes I don’t know whether to believe what I feel or believe the Word—but I choose Your Word.
Don’t let me waste the power You’ve given me. Don’t let me sabotage myself. I want to consecrate myself.
Your Word says:
“Ask, and it will be given. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened.” Matthew 7:7-8
So I’m asking. I’m seeking. I’m knocking.
Let me not stray like Eve.
Help me find the way.
Let me be linked with You, Lord.
Thank You for showing me the way.
Thank You for holding my hand.
Let me be a reflection of You.
Where I am now
I’m still hungry.
Not in the same way. Not with the same kind of fear. But the ache for clarity and closeness hasn’t gone away.
I’ve grown in trust—enough to move forward even when I don’t feel confirmation every step of the way. I’ve gotten better with discernment too, slowly learning to tell the difference between my fear and God’s “no.” But fasting? I’m still wrestling.
Some days I think I’m making progress. Other days I’m still that same girl sitting in a hotel room in Montgomery, scribbling desperate prayers in her notebook.
But now, I hold her with more kindness.
God hasn’t given me all the answers. But He has given me presence.
Peace.
Just enough light for the next step.
If you’re there too
If you’re in a season of asking, of feeling the nudge but fearing the next move—this is me telling you: you’re not alone.
You can be uncertain and still be faithful.
You can want more and still be held.
You can be hungry and still be growing.
May we learn to honor the hunger—not just for answers, but for God Himself.
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