Life-Giving Words of Hope & Encouragement

I just finished watching Soul on Fire because a dear friend insisted I needed to see it. I trusted them. I pressed play. And now—once I fully rehydrate from my tears—I’m going to have words with them – you know who you are…

Some stories don’t politely knock. They walk right in, sit down next to your ache, and start telling the truth out loud. Soul on Fire did that to me. It didn’t try to tidy up suffering or rush past the hard parts. Instead, it leaned into a line that has stayed with me long after the credits rolled: you can’t always choose the path you walk, but you can choose how you walk it.

That sentence alone will preach if you let it.

Choosing How You Walk

Most of us spend a lot of energy wishing we could reroute our lives. We replay moments, rewrite conversations, imagine different outcomes. But the reality is this: some roads choose us. Illness. Loss. Grief. Disappointment. A phone call you never wanted. A hospital room you didn’t plan on visiting—again.

What faith offers us isn’t always a different road. Sometimes it offers us a different way of walking the road we’re already on.

Scripture doesn’t pretend the path will be easy. Jesus never sugarcoated suffering. What He did promise was presence. “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me” (Psalm 23:4, NIV). Notice the word through. Not around. Not over. Through. With Him.

How we walk matters. We can walk bitter or broken open. We can walk clenched-fist angry or open-handed honest. We can walk alone—or we can walk close.

“I Love You… and There’s Nothing You Can Do About It”

There’s a scene in the movie that undid me completely. A father looks at his son and tells him he loves him—and there is nothing the son can do about it. No performance required. No conditions attached. No fine print.

I had to pause the movie. That wasn’t just a cinematic moment. That was theology with tears.

That is the voice of our Abba Father.

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!” (1 John 3:1, NIV). Lavished. Not rationed. Not earned. Lavished.

God’s love is not fragile. It doesn’t fluctuate with our faithfulness or disappear when we’re struggling. He doesn’t love us if. He loves us because. Period.

If you’ve ever wondered whether your grief has disqualified you, hear this clearly: it hasn’t. If you’ve ever worried that your questions or tears have pushed God away, they haven’t. The Father looks at you and says, “I love you—and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Stay Close to Me—That’s Where Your Father Is”

Not long ago, after visiting several people in the hospital, walking hallways heavy with beeping machines and whispered prayers, I heard a sentence that stopped me cold: “Stay close to Me because that’s where your father is.”

It undid me.

Those hospital rooms stirred memories of my own father’s final days. The sounds. The smells. The waiting. Grief has a way of reopening rooms in your heart you thought were locked for good.

And yet, that sentence carried a holy comfort. It wasn’t sentimental. It was sacred.

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18, NIV).

God does not hover at a safe distance from pain. He draws near. And when you stay close to Him, you are not just near God—you are near the ones who have gone before you in Him. Near the cloud of witnesses. Near the Father who knows loss intimately.

Grief hurts. But it hurts differently when you’re not grieving alone.

The Gift of Not Having to Reintroduce Yourself to God

One of the quiet mercies of walking with God before loss is that you don’t have to get reacquainted with Him after loss.

You don’t have to say, “God, I know it’s been a while.”
You don’t have to wonder if He’s still listening.
You don’t have to rebuild trust from scratch while your heart is breaking.

You already know where to go.

“Because you are his sons and daughters, God sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out, ‘Abba, Father’” (Galatians 4:6, NIV).

Grief doesn’t mean your faith failed. Often, it reveals where your faith is rooted. When God is first in your life, sorrow doesn’t exile you from Him—it drives you deeper into His presence.

Walking With Fire, Not Just Through It

Soul on Fire reminded me that faith isn’t about avoiding the fire. It’s about discovering Who walks with you in it.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you… When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned” (Isaiah 43:2, NIV).

Fire refines. Fire reveals. Fire exposes what can’t survive the heat—and what was always real.

You may not get to choose the road. But you get to choose whether you walk it hardened or holy, distant or dependent, closed off or held close.

And the Father walks with you, whispering love that cannot be undone.

An Encouraging Word for Today

If you are grieving, hear this gently: you are not behind. You are not weak. You are not doing it wrong.

If you are walking a road you didn’t choose, remember—you are still choosing how you walk it. And every step taken with God is a step saturated in grace.

Stay close to Him. That’s where the Father is.
That’s where healing begins.
That’s where love never lets go.

Prayer:

Father God,
You are near to the brokenhearted, and today we lean into that promise. For every reader carrying grief, sorrow, unanswered questions, or quiet tears, draw them close. Remind us that Your love is secure, unwavering, and unbreakable. Teach us how to walk the roads we didn’t choose with courage, humility, and trust. Help us stay close to You, especially when the memories ache and the loss feels heavy. Thank You that we never walk alone, and that nothing can separate us from Your love. We rest in You, Abba Father.
Amen.