Tired Bones, Dancing Soul

"Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace." — 2 Corinthians 4:16 (MSG

This week, my body is beat. I’m talking dead-tired, with no energy left, running on fumes, and kind of tired. You know the type—where you finally sit down, and it feels like your bones exhale. That’s where I’m at.

But here’s what’s wild: My spirit feels alive. Awake. Buzzing. Hopeful.

We just pulled off a big fundraiser for the organization I’m blessed to work with—a team on the frontlines fighting sex trafficking and exploitation. It was beautiful chaos. Every detail, every handshake, every last-minute curveball—it was all worth it. But the event was just one piece. This whole week has been a whirlwind—back-to-back meetings, nonstop calls, advocacy moments, and divine appointments I didn’t see coming. It’s been exhausting... and incredible.

And as I sit in the quiet after the storm, I realize something: It’s possible to be completely worn out in your body, but completely rejuvenated in your spirit. Somehow, even in the depletion, I feel filled.

Because I see what God is doing.

I saw it in the eyes of those who showed up and gave.

I heard it in the voices that are finally rising with truth.

I felt it in the conversations where people are no longer looking away -but leaning in.

And I see it in my own heart—that He is not done with this fight.

Yes, I’m exhausted. But I’m also encouraged.

There is an awakening happening. It’s quiet and steady and fierce. And it’s not fueled by caffeine or adrenaline—it’s fueled by hope. By purpose. By Jesus.

So, if you’re reading this and you’re feeling run-down, don’t discount what God’s doing inside of you. He may be awakening something in your spirit that doesn’t need your body to be fully rested to get moving.

Take a breath. Take a nap. And then keep going. Because we are not just bodies—we are souls on a mission.

⸻

My Prayer:

Jesus,

Thank You for being my strength when I have none left. Thank You for showing up in the exhaustion and filling my spirit with purpose, joy, and hope. Thank You for the victories that don’t always make the headlines but shake heaven and hell alike. I surrender the tiredness, the to-do list, and the pressure. Fill me again. Keep my eyes open to what You’re doing. Keep my heart tender. And keep my feet moving toward what matters. I trust You with the rest.

Amen.