This morning I woke up grateful for the simplest things; another day of life, breakfast with my husband, coffee still warm in my hands, and the quiet gift of worship before the day asked anything of me.
I needed that quiet, because yesterday was hard.
Some difficult news came up at work; the kind you brace for without ever fully being ready for it. And if I am honest, none of it surprised me. I had seen it coming for a while now. I had raised the concern early, more than once, hoping we could get ahead of it before it became unavoidable.
That is the part that has been sitting heaviest on me since yesterday. Not the news itself. The fact that I saw it coming and said something, and it happened anyway.
There is a particular kind of ache in being right about something you wish you were not right about. It is not the satisfaction people imagine when they say “I told you so.” It is closer to grief; watching something you tried to prevent unfold in slow motion, and feeling, somewhere underneath the professionalism, a quiet question you cannot quite silence. Did anyone actually hear me? Was there something more I could have done?
I sat with that feeling for most of the evening. And somewhere in the middle of it, a sermon I heard just days ago came back to me, gently, the way scripture tends to when you actually need it.
Preparation is not the same as control
Ps Joey Rafael of New Life Alabang preached on trusting God in a crisis, and I do not think I have ever felt a message arrive at a more precise moment.
“Fear not, for I am with you; do not look around you in terror and be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen and harden you to difficulties, yes, I will help you.” (Isaiah 41:10, AMPC)
He said we should not wait for the crisis to begin before we start trusting God; that preparation is never wasted time, but cramming is stressful, and so much of our stress in a crisis comes from having skipped the preparing. He also said something I needed even more; that when we pray, the point is not to rush through it and get back to solving the problem ourselves. The point is to actually get into His presence, so He can give us the wisdom we need instead of only the wisdom we wanted. All of us, he said, are great listeners to everyone except God. We need to learn to get quiet and actually wait for His direction instead of running ahead of it.
Here is the uncomfortable truth I sat with last night; I had done the practical part. I raised the flag. I said the thing that needed saying. But had I actually prepared my own heart for the possibility that it might happen anyway, regardless of how clearly I saw it or how loudly I said it? Not really. Somewhere along the way, being right about the risk had quietly become tangled up with an expectation that being right should have been enough to prevent it. And when it was not enough, the grief I felt was not only about the outcome. It was about the powerlessness underneath it.
“You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You.” (Isaiah 26:3)
Where was my mind actually set last night; on what I could not control, or on Him? I had to be honest about the answer.
The battle belongs to the Lord
Ps Joey told the story of King Jehoshaphat, standing before an army far too large for his own to face. Jehoshaphat did not respond by strategizing harder or gathering more information. He prayed, and he kept his eyes fixed on God (2 Chronicles 20:12). And God’s answer was not a plan for Jehoshaphat to execute through his own strength. It was an instruction. Do not be afraid, do not be dismayed, because the battle is not yours, it is Mine. God even told them exactly how to position themselves. He did not leave them to guess, and He did not leave them to fight it alone.
I read that story again last night and felt something in my chest finally loosen.
Because here is what I think I actually needed to hear; being right about a risk was never the same thing as being responsible for the outcome. I can see clearly. I can raise my voice. I can do everything within my role with integrity and foresight. And the outcome can still land the way it landed yesterday, not because I failed to see it or failed to say it, but because some battles were simply never mine to win in the first place. They belong to Him. My part was never to win it alone. My part was to position myself faithfully and let Him fight what is His to fight.
That does not erase the ache. It just changes what I am carrying it with.
What I am carrying into today
I still feel the weight of yesterday. I do not think that disappears overnight, and I am not going to pretend it has. But I am choosing, this morning, to let it become the start of something steadier instead of the moment I spiral into trying to control what was never mine to control.
That means getting quiet before I start solving. That means trusting that showing up with integrity in what is actually mine to do matters more than having every outcome figured out in advance. Ps Joey reminded us that when you are faithful to God, He does not just protect you. He blesses you, the way He blessed Daniel’s three friends who stayed faithful in the middle of their own fire, not because they controlled the outcome, but because they trusted the One who did.
If you are carrying your own version of yesterday today; something you saw coming, something you tried to prevent, something that broke your heart a little even though you did everything right; I do not have a formula for you. I only have what steadied me last night. The battle was never yours to win alone. Position yourself faithfully. Keep your eyes on Him. And let Him fight what only He can fight.
Raise a hallelujah in the trouble. You may not see Him moving yet. But He is moving. 🌿
“Do not be afraid and dismayed; the battle is not yours, but God’s.” (2 Chronicles 20:15)
Have you ever been right about something hard and still felt the weight of it anyway? I would love to hear how you carried it in the comments. 🤍
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