Let me ask you something.
Have you ever been in the middle of complete emotional chaos; and felt, underneath all of it, a presence that had absolutely no business being there?
Not a feeling you manufactured. Not something you prayed yourself into. Just; a quiet, steady, inexplicable sense that you were not alone in it. That something; Someone; was holding you even while everything felt like it was unraveling.
That is what I want to talk about today.
Because I have been experiencing it. And I don’t want to let it pass without naming it; because I think someone reading this needs to hear it too.
The night that left me undone.
Allen and I had a disagreement about boundaries last night. The kind of conflict that doesn’t stay neatly in the moment; it follows you around the house, climbs into bed with you, and replays itself on a loop just when you’re trying to sleep.
I went to bed frustrated, emotionally wrung out, and honestly; a little dramatic in my own head. You know that thing we do? Where we mentally rehearse everything we wish we had said? Where we compose entire speeches to no one at eleven o’clock at night? Where our thoughts spiral so far that we are practically redecorating our entire emotional house?
Yes. That was me.
And in the middle of all of it; I did the only thing I had left. I cried out to God.
Not elegantly. Not composedly. Just desperately and honestly: Can You hear me? Can You see this? Can You please just show up for me right now?
I didn’t know if He would answer. I didn’t know what that would even look like. I just knew I had run out of my own resources and I needed something beyond myself.
And then something happened.
I woke up calm.
Not because anything had changed. Not because the conflict had resolved itself overnight or an apology was waiting for me. Nothing on the outside was different.
But something on the inside was.
There was a stillness in me that I had not put there. A quietness that made no logical sense given everything that had happened the night before. And I lay there for a moment just; noticing it. Receiving it. Almost afraid to move in case it disappeared.
This is what I want you to understand; because I think it is one of the most important things I have learned in this entire season of my life:
God does not always answer by fixing the situation. Sometimes He answers by steadying the person in the middle of it.
He didn’t resolve my conflict overnight. He didn’t remove the confusion or hand me a clear answer. He just; showed up. Quietly. While I slept. And left me with a peace that I absolutely did not earn and could not have manufactured on my own.
"You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you." (Isaiah 26:3)
My mind was not perfectly steadfast last night. But I was reaching for Him. And apparently; reaching is enough.
Have you ever experienced that? Waking up okay when you had every reason not to be? That is not coincidence. That is not just a good night’s sleep. That is God. And I want us to start calling it what it is.
He was in the morning too.
I stepped outside with Adi, our nanny Nanay Nedy, and our dog Lily. It was already warm; that thick familiar summer heat even at 8am; and I inhaled it like I was breathing something in on purpose.
And there He was again.
In the air. In the light. In Adi’s easy, unbothered laughter. In Lily’s tail wagging at absolutely nothing in particular. In the simple, unearned gift of a new morning after a hard night.
I think we often look for God in the dramatic moments; the miracles, the clear signs, the unmistakable interventions. And He is absolutely in those. But I am learning that He is equally; maybe even more consistently; present in the quiet ones.
The morning walk nobody asked for that turned into exactly what I needed. The unexpected calm after an emotional storm. The child beside you who has no idea he is being used as a vessel of joy. The dog who just wants to sniff things and remind you that life is still happening and it is still good.
God was not absent last night when I was crying out to Him. He was already preparing the morning.
"Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5)
I have read that verse many times. Yesterday I lived it.
Why confusion is not the absence of God.
Here is the lie that confusion tells us: that if God were truly present, things would be clearer. That if He really heard us, we wouldn’t feel so lost. That the fog itself is evidence of His absence.
I want to challenge that; gently but firmly.
Some of the most profound encounters with God I have ever had happened in my most confused moments. Not after the confusion cleared; but right in the middle of it. Because confusion has a way of stripping away everything we rely on besides Him. It dismantles our self-sufficiency. It quiets our pride. It brings us to the place where we finally stop trying to figure it out on our own and simply cry out.
And that cry; that desperate, imperfect, unpolished cry; is often exactly where He meets us.
Confusion is not the absence of God. It is sometimes the very thing that positions us to finally feel His presence.
"Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know." (Jeremiah 33:3)
He is not hiding from your confusion. He is waiting in it; ready to be found.
What I am learning about advocating for myself.
I also want to name something else that God has been quietly teaching me through this; because I think it connects.
For a long time I believed that keeping the peace meant keeping quiet. That being a good wife, a good mother, a good person meant minimizing my own needs to keep everyone else comfortable. And I called that love.
But God has been gently; persistently; correcting that in me.
Advocating for what you need is not selfish. It is not dramatic. It is not too much. It is actually an act of faithfulness; to yourself, to your relationships, and to the God who created you with needs worth honoring.
The frustration I felt last night came from a real and valid place. A genuine love for my family and a desire to protect the peace of our home. And learning to name that; without shame, without over-apologizing, without shrinking; is some of the most important work I am doing right now.
I believe God cares about that work. I believe He is in it with me. And I believe He is in it with you too; wherever you are in your own journey of learning to take up the space you were always meant to occupy.
For anyone who has been crying out and wondering if He hears:
He does.
Maybe He hasn’t answered the way you expected. Maybe the situation hasn’t changed and the confusion hasn’t cleared and the conflict hasn’t resolved. Maybe you went to bed last night the same way I did; wrung out, desperate, and a little dramatic in your own head.
But here is what I want you to hold onto:
God’s presence is not measured by how quickly things improve. It is not contingent on the situation being fixed. It shows up in a peaceful sleep you didn’t earn. In a morning walk that stills your racing thoughts. In the quiet, steady sense that underneath all the chaos; you are held.
He was there last night. He is here this morning. And He will be there tomorrow; in whatever form you need Him most.
You are not navigating this alone. Not for a single moment.
"Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." (1 Peter 5:7)
Not the composed version of you. Not the version who handled it gracefully. You; right now; in the middle of the mess; exactly as you are.
He showed up for me last night in the most ordinary, quiet, unexpected ways. And He will show up for you too.
Just keep reaching. That is always enough. 🤍
Have you ever felt God’s presence in an unexpected way during a confusing or painful season? I’d love to hear your story in the comments. 🤍
My Brightest Light 
Leave a comment