Letting God Meet Me in the Moments That Feel Too Heavy to Carry

📖 Scripture (NRSV)

Isaiah 41:10

“Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you; I will uphold you with my victorious right hand.”

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🌱 Devotional Reflection

I forget that feeling quickly.

The feeling that God is with me.

One difficult message, one unanswered question, or one person I love who is hurting, and I start acting as though everything depends on me. I try to solve problems I can’t solve, carry burdens that aren’t mine to carry, and lose patience with myself when I can’t fix what hurts.

That’s what happened this morning.

I stood at the kitchen sink watching the sky shift from grey to pale blue. The house was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of running water.

My mind wasn’t quiet.

I was thinking about people I care about, questions I couldn’t answer, and situations I couldn’t fix. I didn’t notice how tense I’d become until my shoulders ached and I realized I hadn’t taken a full breath in several minutes.

Later that morning, I sat with two images. One showed two winged figures standing in a forest filled with light. The other featured a butterfly.

I wasn’t looking for answers. I needed a few minutes where I wasn’t mentally making lists or trying to solve problems.

As I sat there, I kept returning to four simple words from Isaiah:

“I am with you.”

I’ve read those words countless times, but this morning they landed differently.

Isaiah wasn’t written to people whose lives were easy or predictable. It was spoken to people who felt afraid and uncertain about what was ahead. God didn’t promise to explain everything they were facing. He promised that they would not face it alone.

I forget how much those words matter.

When I forget, I start trying to control things beyond my control.

I convince myself that worrying about something long enough is the same as helping.

I carry responsibilities that don’t belong to me.

And when I can’t fix what hurts, I lose patience with myself.

I tell myself I should be handling things better.

I wonder why I can’t let things go.

I ask myself what’s wrong with me for caring so deeply about things I cannot change.

Those thoughts leave me feeling responsible for outcomes that were never mine to control.

They also make it harder to notice the quiet ways God is already caring for me: the sunlight through the kitchen window, a message from a friend, the few minutes of stillness before the day begins.

The people I was worried about still needed help.

The questions I carried still didn’t have answers.

The situations I couldn’t fix were still waiting for me.

But I stopped acting as though everything depended on me.

I stood still for a few minutes and admitted what I’d been resisting all morning: I couldn’t fix everything.

When I stepped away from that quiet moment, my circumstances hadn’t changed.

But I had stopped holding my breath.

My shoulders weren’t as tense.

I walked away with the same questions but less urgency to solve them.

My worries hadn’t pushed God away. I’d just stopped noticing He was there.

He is with me.

And today, that was enough.

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✍️ Journaling Prompts

1. What happens when I forget that God is with me?
2. What am I trying to control that isn’t mine to carry?
3. What do I say to myself when I can’t fix a problem?
4. Where have I noticed God’s presence in ordinary moments this week?
5. What would change if I truly believed I wasn’t walking through this day alone?

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🤝 Call to Connection

What burden have you been carrying as though it depends entirely on you?

Consider sharing it with someone you trust today.

Sometimes we need another person to remind us of what we’ve forgotten: we were never meant to carry everything by ourselves.

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🙏 Closing Prayer

God,

When my thoughts run ahead of me, remind me that You are already here.

Help me release the responsibilities that were never mine to carry.

When I start trying to control things I cannot control, teach me to trust You instead.

When I lose patience with myself, remind me that Your love for me is not based on my ability to fix everything.

Teach me to notice Your presence in the quiet spaces I usually rush through.

Thank You for staying close, even when I forget You are there.

Amen.