Loss of Happiness

Since my mom passed in January, I have been struggling to find even a flicker of the happiness I once knew. It feels as though a giant weight has settled over me, one that never lifts or lightens. Things that used to bring me joy, like opening a new book, getting lost in a video game, or even the simple pleasure of trying a new coffee, no longer hold any appeal. I find myself wondering if the death of my mom was also the death of my happiness because of how close we were and how much of our lives we shared.

I try to stay positive for my wife. She is an incredible woman who loves me more than I feel I deserve, and her encouragement is a constant in my life. Yet, even with her by my side, I cannot seem to get my head straight. I feel a deep sense of frustration and anger. I am upset with God for not healing her here, I am upset with the doctors for not doing more, and I am even upset with myself for being upset. I want to be the follower of Christ she raised me to be, and I want to study and grow as a disciple, but my mind wanders after just a few pages. I cannot concentrate because the loss is always there, lurking in the background.

Work is the only place I find a temporary reprieve. When there is a line of customers in front of me, I am forced to focus on their needs, and for a few moments, the weight disappears. But the second the line ends and the silence returns, the darkness rushes back in. Even during a beautiful two week trip to Brazil with my wife, that gnawing heaviness followed me. I knew the moment I stepped back home, the darkness would try to take over, and I have been fighting it ever since.

I am tired of fighting. I don’t want to just remember what it felt like to be happy; I want to be the happiness again. I want to laugh and feel human, to truly be able to say it is well with my soul. While I believe that one day this pain will fade into a dull ache I can live with, right now I am just pushing forward against everything inside of me that wants to give up. I am looking for a way to move forward without her, holding onto my faith and the hope that the darkness will eventually be banished for good.

I have been thinking about how to carry this weight differently, since fighting against it hasn't stopped the exhaustion. I realized that at work, I find relief because I am tethered to the present moment by the people in front of me. Maybe the way forward isn't about waiting for the darkness to vanish all at once, but about finding small tethers in my daily life that keep me from drifting too far into the past.

I need to stop measuring my progress by how I used to be and start accepting where I am right now. If I can’t read a whole chapter of a book or a long passage of scripture, I will commit to just one paragraph or one verse. I don’t have to be a perfect scholar to honor my mom’s legacy; I just have to show up as I am. If I can only give two minutes of focus before my mind wanders, I will be grateful for those two minutes and try again later. Honesty in my brokenness is its own kind of discipleship.

There is also something to be said for the "doing" when the "feeling" isn't there yet. My mom and I did so much together for so long, and perhaps I can find a way to turn that connection into an action. It might be as simple as brewing a cup of coffee she loved or taking a walk outside to clear the physical heaviness in my chest. I don't have to force myself to feel happy while doing these things. I just have to do them to remind myself that I am still here and that her influence is still moving through me.

I also have to learn to let my wife hold the lantern when my own light feels like it has gone out. I’ve been trying so hard to be the positive one for her, but moving forward might actually mean being vulnerable enough to let her lead the way for a while. I am not giving up by admitting I am tired; I am acknowledging how much I loved my mom. Eventually, I know this darkness will transform into that dull ache I can live with, but for today, my only job is to take the next step, no matter how small it feels.

Devotional: Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." — Psalm 139:14

While the previous verse focused on the process of our creation—the knitting together—this verse is a response to the result. It is a declaration of awe. When David looks at the complexity of human life, he doesn’t just see biology; he sees the "wonderful works" of a Master Artist.

To say we are "fearfully and wonderfully made" is not an exercise in vanity or self-centeredness. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. This isn't about being proud of ourselves; it’s about being in awe of the One who designed us. The word "fearfully" here implies a sense of reverence and deep respect. It means that your existence is so intricate and intentional that it should cause anyone who considers it to pause in wonder.

The "wonder" of your design isn't just in how your body functions, but in the unique reflection of God’s character that only you can display. You are a one-of-a-kind expression of His creativity.
The struggle for many of us is the second half of the verse: knowing it full well. We often know it in our heads, but we don't always feel it in our hearts. We focus on our flaws, our perceived inadequacies, and the things we wish we could change.

But David’s praise isn't based on how he felt about his own performance that day. It was based on the undeniable fact that God doesn't make mistakes. To criticize yourself is, in a sense, to criticize the Artist's work. Today, "knowing it full well" means choosing to believe God’s assessment of your value over your own insecurities or the world’s standards.

Father God,

I praise You today for the miracle of my life. Thank You that I am not a product of chance, but a masterpiece of Your design. Forgive me for the times I have compared myself to others or looked in the mirror with anything less than gratitude for Your handiwork.

Help me to "know full well" that Your works are wonderful. When the world tries to tell me I’m not enough, let Your truth be the loudest voice I hear. Teach me to steward this life You’ve given me with joy and to reflect Your glory in everything I do.

In the wonderful name of Jesus,

Amen.

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Devotional: My Redeemer Lives

"I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth." 

-Job 19:25

There is a profound difference between believing in a historical figure and knowing a living Savior. When Job uttered these famous words, he wasn't speaking from a place of comfort or prosperity. He was sitting in the ashes of his former life, stripped of his health, his wealth, and his children. His friends had turned into accusers, and his body was failing him.

Yet, in the middle of the darkest corridor of human suffering, Job didn't look at his circumstances to define his God. Instead, he looked past the "now" and anchored his soul in an eternal certainty: "I know that my redeemer lives."

The title "Redeemer" (Go'el in Hebrew) originally referred to a family protector, someone who would step in to advocate for a relative, pay their debts, or vindicate them when they were wronged. Job was declaring that despite his current isolation, he had a Living Advocate.

To say He lives "even to this day" changes everything about how we face our modern struggles. We do not serve a God who is trapped in the pages of ancient history or a Creator who set the world in motion only to walk away. We serve a Redeemer who is active, present, and vibrantly alive in this very second.

Job’s second realization was that this Redeemer would "stand on the earth." This is a promise of ultimate victory. It means that no matter how loud the chaos of the world becomes, or how heavy the weight of personal loss feels, the final word does not belong to death, debt, or despair. The final word belongs to the One who conquered the grave.

Because He lives today:

Your past is covered: He has already paid the price for your redemption.

Your present is held: He is a "very present help" in times of trouble.

Your future is secure: He is already standing at the finish line, waiting to welcome you home.

When you feel like the world is crumbling, remember Job’s grit. Faith isn't the absence of pain; it is the stubborn confidence that the One who redeemed you is alive, active, and moving on your behalf, even when you can't see the next step.

Lord God,

I praise You because You are the Living God. You are not a memory or a philosophy; You are my Living Redeemer. Thank You that the same power that raised Jesus from the dead is available to me today, breathing life into my weary spirit and hope into my tired heart.

Forgive me for the times I live as if You are distant or silent. Strengthen my faith so that I can say, like Job, "I know that my Redeemer lives." When the world feels uncertain and my strength feels small, remind me that You are standing firm.

I ask for Your vitality to flood my life today. Help me to live with the joy and the boldness that comes from knowing I am spoken for, fought for, and deeply loved by a Savior who is alive forevermore.

In the mighty name of Jesus,

Amen.

 

You are Light

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Devotional: Love as an Action

"This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him."

— 1 John 4:9

Love is often treated as a feeling or a fleeting emotion, but in this verse, John reminds us that God’s love is a demonstrated action. God didn't just tell us He loved us from a distance; He proved it by stepping into our world.

The depth of this verse lies in the word "sent." It implies a deliberate choice and a significant sacrifice. By sending Jesus, God provided the only bridge for us to move from spiritual death into true, vibrant life. We don’t have to "earn" this affection or strive to be worthy of it; the evidence of His devotion is already hanging on the cross and standing at the empty tomb.

Today, if you feel forgotten or wonder if you matter, look back at 1 John 4:9. You are so deeply valued that the Creator of the universe chose to give His best so that you could have His life.

Lord,

Thank You for the overwhelming evidence of Your love. In moments when I feel overwhelmed or disconnected, remind me that You have already gone to the greatest lengths to reach me. Thank You for sending Your Son, Jesus, so that I don't have to just "get by," but can truly live through Him.

Strengthen my heart today reminding me that I am wanted and redeemed. Let the life of Christ flow through my thoughts, my words, and my actions. When I am weak, be my life and my breath. Help me to walk in the confidence of a child who is perfectly loved.

Amen.