Happy Sacred Sunday my lovesđď¸đâ¨
This weekâs Sacred Sunday reading came from Psalms 12 through 17, and what emerged almost immediately was a quiet but demanding theme: surrender. Not resignation. Not spiritual bypassing. But the kind of trust that asks you to keep your heart open even when life would give you plenty of reasons to close it. And I know personally, I really needed to read this.
Lately, Iâve been struggling with feeling lonely again. I keep finding myself on this path where growth seems to come through discomfort, over and over, as if the work is always asking me to stretch a little further so I can be of service to others. To be a guide. A messenger. An example. And while I understand that calling, there are moments when I quietly wonder when it will be my turn to feel guided. When will I get a real break from survival mode? When will the effort Iâve been putting in, even when itâs mostly invisible, feel met?
Iâm tired of feeling tired. Tired of feeling sad, broke, and alone. Not in a way that ignores personal responsibility, but in the honest acknowledgment that I have done what I am capable of doing right now. I canât push myself back into perfectionism just to feel worthy of rest or reward. There is no finish line on that path. Still, itâs human to long for reciprocity. To ask when financial stability will arrive. When friendships feel safe and mutual. When love feels steady. When the heaviness of the emptiness softens...
Even naming these feelings is uncomfortable because it can sound like Iâm erasing the growth and healing of the past few years, even though I know that growth has been real. Itâs just quieter now. More subtle. Less dramatic than I sometimes wish it were. And in many ways, that mirrors the message I pulled from these chapters: Itâs okay to acknowledge where you still feel a lack in your life.
These passages sit in the uncomfortable space between faith and frustration. There is sorrow here. Doubt, weariness, and a very human confusion around why those who lie, manipulate, or move without integrity often seem to thrive and be rewarded, while those trying to live honestly and authentically feel overlooked, slowed down, or pressed on all sides.
Thereâs a particular ache in realizing that doing the ârightâ thing doesnât always come with visible reward. That choosing sincerity, softness, or devotion can feel like it puts you at a disadvantage. The psalms donât deny that tension.
They name it directly. They give language to the moment where you wonder if your faith, your values, or your path are actually leading anywhere at all.
One thing that stood out strongly to me throughout this message was protection despite the doubt, fear, and anxiety.
Not dramatic, flash, lightning bolt-like protection, but quiet preservation. Protection for those who are easily spoken over, taken advantage of, or dismissed. The needy. The poor. The overlooked. Not only in a material sense, but in the way that some people move through the world without armor, without leverage, without the instinct to dominate. We remain open because thatâs what weâre guided to do, and maybe thatâs why, in turn, we end up lonely for a period of time.
I realized that, despite how uncomfortable and LONG this season feels, there may still be a reason for it. Maybe Iâm not being rejected from love and community at all, but still being protected from chasing the wrong ones, and from the wrong connections trying to stay attached to me.
I kept thinking about how often harm doesnât come from obvious enemies, but from people who simply are not like you, even when you expect them to be. People who speak a similar language (like in the last Sacred Sunday post), hold similar symbols, or appear aligned on the surface, yet move from a completely different internal place.
It makes me think about how, for a long time, I kept forming connections based on surface-level familiarity. The kind that looks promising at first, feels exciting in the beginning, and then quietly dissolves once depth is required. That pattern came with a lot of disappointment, mostly because I kept mistaking access for alignment.
Lately, though, itâs been different. Iâm not running into that same cycle as often. Fewer instant connections, fewer letdowns. Even if it means being alone a little longer, thereâs a strange relief in not constantly having to grieve people who were never meant to stay.
The number 123 has come up repeatedly for me lately, which also turned this message into a synchronicity for me, and it felt symbolic of faith unfolding in sequence. Step by step. Not all at once. Not with certainty. Just the next right movement, even when you donât see the full picture yet. Trust that isnât loud or performative, but honest and steady.
The image of a lion also surfaced. In Psalm 17, the enemy is described as a lion waiting in hiding. There is real threat here, but also perspective. Strength exists on multiple sides, but only one is aligned with truth.
Courage, in this context, isnât about eliminating danger. Itâs about refusing to become hardened or cruel in response to it.
What I appreciate about this passage is that it doesnât rush to a resolution. The sorrow doesnât magically disappear. The questions donât all get answered. Instead, there is a repeated return to trust. A decision, made again and again, not to let bitterness rewrite the heart or cause you to return to another dark night of the soul.
If your path feels slower than others.
If it feels quieter, less flashy, or less rewarded.
If youâve found yourself wondering why integrity seems heavier than arrogance, this reading offers a gentle reassurance:
Sorrow does not mean abandonment.
Doubt does not cancel devotion.
And protection does not always announce itself loudly.
Sometimes it looks like preservation. Sometimes it looks like being kept intact. Sometimes it looks like continuing forward without becoming someone you were never meant to be.
This felt like a message for those choosing trust without proof. Those staying soft in a world that rewards hardness. Those walking a path that doesnât always make sense, but still feels true.
You are not lost. You are not doing it wrong. And what you are carrying is seen.
I really needed this. Thank you for your work!
Truly beautiful writing and reflection! đŤđ˘đłđ