Seasons
Even the Breaking
Some endings feel like loss until time reveals they were acts of mercy.
There are seasons we do not fully understand while we are living through them. We only begin to recognize what God was doing when enough time has passed for us to look back and see His fingerprints where we once saw only pain.
Most of us have lived through a season that felt like everything was falling apart. A relationship ended. A dream slipped away. A door closed without explanation. What once seemed certain suddenly became unfamiliar, leaving behind questions we could not answer and emotions we did not know how to carry.
At first, all we can see is loss.
We think we are simply breaking.
But slowly, almost quietly, something else begins to happen.
God is there.
Not always in dramatic ways, but in the still moments we would have otherwise overlooked. In the silence where there are no more words to say. In the nights when pretending to be okay becomes too exhausting. In the prayers that are no longer polished or carefully spoken, but honest enough to admit, “Lord, I don’t understand.”
Sometimes those are the prayers that bring us closest to Him.
Jesus’ invitation in Matthew 11:28 begins to sound less like a familiar verse and more like a place to rest: “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” In seasons of breaking, we often discover that what our hearts need most is not immediate answers but the presence of the One who carries what we no longer can.
With time, the ending begins to look different.
What once appeared to be God taking something away slowly reveals itself as God gently closing a door we kept trying to hold open. Not in anger. Not as punishment. But in love.
Sometimes God’s “enough” is His way of saying, I have something better than what you are struggling to keep.
Looking back, it becomes easier to see that He was never trying to ruin our plans. He was redirecting our steps. He was leading us away from places that could no longer grow us and drawing us back into deeper fellowship with Him.
That is why Philippians 3:13–14 speaks so powerfully: “…forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark…”
Moving forward does not mean forgetting what happened.
It does not mean pretending the hurt never existed.
It means trusting God enough to keep walking even while healing is still taking place.
Some wounds close slowly.
Some prayers are answered gradually.
Some seasons require us to walk by faith long before we understand why they happened.
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Yet somewhere along that journey, another promise begins to unfold.
“And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7)
It is a peace that does not erase memories.
A peace that does not deny grief.
A peace that cannot be explained by circumstances because it comes from the presence of Christ Himself.
There may still be moments when the heart remembers. There may still be days when certain memories quietly return. But there is also a peace that was never there before, a peace that slowly replaces the chaos we once thought we had to live with.
Perhaps that is one of God’s greatest miracles.
Not that He removes every scar.
But that He teaches the heart to rest while carrying them.
None of us write from a place of having everything figured out.
We write as people who are still becoming.
Still learning.
Still healing.
Still being led by grace one step at a time.
And perhaps that is enough.
Because what once looked like the end may simply have been the place where God began drawing us back to Himself.
The breaking was never meaningless.
The waiting was never empty.
The tears were never unseen.
Every moment became part of the story God was using to shape us into who He was calling us to be.
Perhaps that is why nothing is wasted in the hands of God.
Not even our breaking.
From the archives.
— mskae.
