Greetings, Precious Family. May the Peace of the Lord be with you always.

Family, have you ever stopped to think about how many things you do every day without actually thinking about doing them?

You get up and walk across the room.

You step outside.

You walk through your yard.

You take the trash to the curb.

You bend down to pick something up.

You go where you want to go, do what you need to do, and return home without giving much thought to the individual steps it took to get there.

There was a time when I did the same.

Before becoming disabled, I never imagined there would come a day when some of life’s simplest activities would require planning.

This week, I found myself confronting that reality over and over again.

I needed to take my trash can down the driveway.

I wanted to go into my backyard and feed my fish.

Simple things.

Except they weren’t simple anymore.

And somewhere between my door and where I needed to go, fear started asking questions.

What if something happens?

What if I fall?

What if I get out there and cannot make it back?

What if no one is there to help me?

Family, I wish I could tell you that I prayed one magnificent prayer and suddenly all the fear disappeared.

It didn’t.

I was still afraid.

The ground was still uneven.

The pavers still had to be navigated.

The distance back to my house had not magically become shorter.

My circumstances had not changed.

So, I did what I could do.

I took one careful step.

Then another.

At times I stopped.

At times I needed something sturdy to hold onto.

At times I needed encouragement to keep going.

And instead of concentrating on everything that was still ahead of me, I concentrated on what was immediately in front of me.

Just get to there.

Then from there…

Let’s get to the next place.

Little by little, step by step, I made my way.

And eventually, I was back inside my home.

Safe.

Tired.

Relieved.

And incredibly grateful.

“I did it.”

Family, I cannot adequately describe what those three words meant to me.

Because there was a time when I wouldn’t have considered any of this an accomplishment.

I would have simply done it.

Perhaps that has been one of the more difficult lessons of becoming disabled: learning how precious some of the things were that I once considered ordinary.

There is grief in that realization.

Sometimes you remember the person who could simply get up and go, and you miss her.

Sometimes you remember doing something without planning every movement and wonder why you never realized what an extraordinary gift that was.

But somewhere in my journey, I am learning something else too.

Wholeness does not necessarily mean becoming who I used to be.

Wholeness can also mean learning to fully live as the person I am today.

My circumstances have already required me to make adjustments. There are things I must do differently now. There are limitations I have to respect, and wisdom requires me to acknowledge them.

But Family, I realized something this week:

I don’t want fear taking anything else from me.

I don’t want fear making my world smaller than it has to be.

So maybe I cannot do everything the way I once did.

Maybe it takes longer.

Maybe I need help.

Maybe I need to stop along the way.

Maybe what used to require no thought now requires courage.

That’s okay.

I can still take the next step.

And perhaps someone reading this tonight understands exactly what I mean.

Your limitation may not be physical.

Maybe anxiety has made your world smaller.

Maybe grief has.

Maybe disappointment, heartbreak, rejection, trauma, age, uncertainty, or a painful experience changed the way you move through life.

And somewhere along the way, you stopped doing things you once did without thinking.

Family, I am not asking you to ignore wisdom or pretend that legitimate limitations don’t exist.

I’m simply asking you the question I am now asking myself:

Has fear taken territory that never belonged to it?

If it has, perhaps we don’t have to reclaim everything tonight.

Maybe we start small.

One phone call.

One conversation.

One application.

One visit.

One decision.

One step.

For me, this week, sometimes that step was quite literal.

And every time I made it back through my door, I understood something a little differently:

I didn’t need to conquer everything in front of me at once.

I only needed enough courage for the next step.

Then the next.

Then the next.

Until eventually…

I did it.

Precious Family, this is A Journey to Wholeness.

And perhaps some journeys aren’t traveled by running toward the destination.

Perhaps some of the most sacred ones are traveled one careful step at a time.

Let Us Pray

Abba,

Thank You for meeting us right where we are.

Sometimes we look at how far we still have to go and become discouraged because we remember how quickly we used to move. We remember who we used to be, what we used to be able to do, and how little thought some things once required.

But tonight, Abba, teach us not to despise the small steps.

Teach us that progress is still progress when it is slow.

Teach us that courage is still courage when our hands are trembling.

Teach us that faith is still faith when we have to stop along the way and rest.

And remind us that needing help does not make the journey any less sacred.

Father, when we become overwhelmed by the distance between where we are and where we hope to be, gently turn our attention back to the step directly in front of us.

We don’t need tomorrow’s strength tonight.

We don’t need enough courage for the entire journey.

We only need Your grace for this step.

And when we take it, Abba, meet us there.

Then meet us in the next one.

And the one after that.

Walk with us through the places that frighten us. Stay close when the road feels uncertain. Give us wisdom to know when to move, when to rest, when to reach for something steady, and when to allow someone else to walk beside us.

Most of all, Father, help us stop comparing today’s journey with yesterday’s ability.

Perhaps we cannot run the way we once did.

Perhaps we cannot move as quickly as someone else.

Perhaps our journey looks completely different from the one we imagined.

But we are still here.

We are still moving.

We are still becoming.

And You are still with us.

So tonight, Abba, we surrender the destination to You.

We will not measure this journey by how quickly we arrive.

We will measure it by our willingness to keep walking with You.

One prayer.

One act of courage.

One moment of trust.

One careful step at a time.

And someday, when we look behind us and see just how far You have brought us, may we whisper with grateful hearts:

“Abba, we did it.”

And may we hear You remind us:

“You never walked one step alone.”

In the precious and matchless name of Christ Jesus, we pray. Amen, Amen, and Amen.

Worship Video of the Day

Rev. Marcia Davis, BA, MA

Covington, GA (USA)