Southern Graceful

[southerngraceful]

Hearing God in the Noise

Yesterday, I had a conversation with a dear friend about something that’s been weighing on both of us: the feeling that we’re missing God’s message or calling.

It all started when I sent her a meme—classic me, trying to lighten the mood. It said: “When I’m trying to be obedient to God but have no idea what He’s calling me to do.” The clip was from a movie where Jackie Chan is nodding in confusion while Chris Tucker yells, “Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?” We laughed because, honestly, doesn’t that feel relatable?

I joked that the Holy Spirit must look at God sometimes and ask, “Are You sure You picked the right person?” But the conversation quickly deepened. We started talking about how hard it can be to feel certain about what God is saying—or if He’s saying anything at all.

Here’s the thing: I think so many of us are waiting for a moment. A booming voice from the heavens. A burning bush, tables flipped in fury, a veil torn in two. Something big and unmistakable. But what if we’re looking in all the wrong places?

What if God can’t cut through the noise we’ve surrounded ourselves with?

We live in an age of constant stimulation. Big screens, small screens, and everything in between. Ads pop up at every turn. Our downtime is spent scrolling endlessly, keeping up with Facebook friends, or checking notifications. Add in family, work, kids, community obligations, and a culture that glorifies being busy, and it feels like there’s no time to simply be. If your calendar isn’t packed from the moment you wake up to when you collapse into bed, are you even doing enough?

I wonder sometimes why God used shepherds so often in His story. Shepherds were the first to see Jesus in the manger. King David was a shepherd boy before becoming king. Maybe it’s because shepherding is quiet work. Sheep aren’t loud. They graze, they sleep. There’s time to think, to reflect, to listen.

One of my favorite lines from The Alchemist says it best: “If God leads the sheep so well, He will also lead a man.” And how true that is. God speaks in the stillness.

I’ve heard God most clearly in the silence. I remember one vivid moment years ago, driving over the St. Simons Island causeway with the convertible top down. The wind drowned out every other sound, and as the marshes stretched out before me under the sunset, it was like time slowed to a crawl. I was in the middle of a season of uncertainty, praying about a specific person in my life, and in that quiet moment, I heard it.

“Let them go.”

It wasn’t a booming voice. It wasn’t words spoken aloud. But it was unmistakable—like God Himself was sitting beside me. I had spent months praying about this, but it wasn’t until I let the distractions fade into the background that I could hear Him so clearly.

Maybe that’s the real issue: we’ve become so tuned to the noise around us that we’ve fallen out of tune with God.

But here’s what I’ve also started to notice—God doesn’t stop trying to reach us, even in the chaos. What if, while waiting for us to sit still and listen, He’s speaking through the clutter of our lives?

Maybe He’s using our worship music to lead us to prayer. Maybe He’s placing the same Bible verse in our feed, over and over, until we finally pay attention. Maybe He’s working through friends, strangers, even those silly Reels we scroll past, planting little seeds along the way.

At some point, the coincidences stop being coincidences.

The same verse popping up in different places? That’s not an accident. Conversations that sync up with a situation you’re walking through? Not random. A song that brings you to tears and reminds you to pray? That’s not chance.

God is always working to start a conversation with us. To slow us down. To connect. He wants to reveal our calling, show us what we’re missing, and remind us that it’s not just about the destination—it’s about the relationship.

So maybe the next time life feels noisy and overwhelming, instead of waiting for the burning bush or the booming voice, we can start looking for Him in the little things. The patterns. The whispers.

Because God isn’t just found in the big, dramatic moments. He’s in the stillness. The quiet. And even the noise—if we’re willing to tune in and listen.

What about you? Have you noticed God showing up in unexpected ways? Are you carving out space to hear Him, or do you feel like He’s speaking through the noise? I’d love to hear your thoughts and stories.

[southerngraceful]

Finding Faith in the Darkest Moments

The thing about God is that He always shows up—especially when it feels like there’s no way out. When you’re pinned against the wall. When all seems lost. When hope feels like it’s gone.

In the darkest moments, the toughest seasons, and the times when you feel like you have nothing left to give—God shows up.

He showed up for Daniel in the lion’s den. He showed up in the fiery furnace. He showed up at the Red Sea. He showed up to heal the sick. He showed up on Resurrection Sunday.

And He will show up for you.

In those moments when you feel like you can’t go any further—when the weight of it all feels unbearable—God hears you. He knows your heart. He knows your pain. And He doesn’t leave you. He never planned to abandon you.

So when you’re ready to give up, when the tears won’t stop, when you’re ready to throw in the towel… keep going. Keep trusting. Keep praying. Keep lifting your hands. Keep looking for Him.

Because He hasn’t forgotten you. He never has, and He never will.

I know it’s hard to see Him in the middle of the storm. Sometimes, the storm feels so overwhelming that it’s all you can see. But even when it’s hard to see God working, He’s there. Faith doesn’t mean you always see the next step—it means you trust He’s guiding you, even in the dark.

The world tells us, “Seeing is believing.” But with God, there’s something extraordinary about trusting Him when everything feels uncertain. There’s power in stepping out in faith when you have nothing left.

Never lose faith in who God is. Look back at His track record. Not once has He failed. Not once has He left anyone to fend for themselves. Not once has He said, “You’re on your own. Figure it out.”

Our God is a God of big miracles and kept promises.

So stand firm in your faith—even in the darkest hour. Trust that whatever you’re going through, God is already working it out.

He will show up. He always does.

[southerngraceful]

Never forget the power of your God.

We’ve all been in those situations that feel impossible—the kind that seems like it’ll never end, like it’s going to crush you, and you don’t know if you’ll ever recover. The situations where you have no idea what to do, and the outcome feels uncertain and overwhelming.

When I think about those moments, I think about Moses and the Israelites. They were finally free, leaving Egypt behind, running from everything they’d ever known. But just when they thought they might escape, they found themselves backed up to the Red Sea with nowhere to go. And right there, on the horizon, came the Egyptian army. It says in Exodus that they “feared greatly” as they watched the Egyptians closing in on them. I imagine them feeling so confused, hurt, and maybe even betrayed. Some of them even started to wonder if freedom was worth it—they said they’d rather have stayed as slaves than to risk dying out there in the wilderness.

But then Moses, with this bold and unwavering faith, stands up and says to them, “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord, which He will work for you today” (Exodus 14:13). Moses didn’t know how God was going to make a way, but he knew God would. Because he trusted. Because he knew God’s heart.

What I love is that from the very beginning, God had a plan. At the start of Chapter 14, He told Moses to camp by the sea, to set up in what seemed like the worst possible spot. God knew exactly what He was doing. He said that Pharaoh would see the Israelites trapped and come after them. God was setting everything up. He told Moses, “I will get glory over Pharaoh, and the Egyptians shall know that I am the Lord.” God was orchestrating a story that would show His power and His faithfulness in the most undeniable way.

So there they were, surrounded on every side. Pharaoh wasn’t holding back. He brought everything he had—every horse, every chariot, his entire army. He didn’t leave a single soldier behind. He was coming at the Israelites with everything he could muster. But even though it looked like there was no way out, God already had it all worked out. God knew that the Israelites would be backed up against the sea. He knew that He was going to part it for them. God had the whole thing planned from the start.

Moses’ faith was so strong that he told the Israelites, “The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.” He didn’t have a blueprint, he just knew that God was going to show up. The Message translation says, “Watch God do His work.” What the Israelites saw as an obstacle, God saw as an opportunity. He turned what seemed impossible into a path.

And here’s what gets me: when God made that way through the sea, He didn’t just make a path. The Bible says three times that they walked across on dry ground. Not muck, not mud, not slippery, messy ground. It was solid. God made a road. A road that was strong enough for every single one of them—the able-bodied, the young, the old, the crippled, the moms carrying babies, the broken and the weary. When it looked like there was no way, God made a way. He literally made a road where there was none. When everything seemed hopeless, God made hope.

And then there’s the Egyptian army, blinded by hatred and pride, charging right into the sea after them. I can’t help but wonder if any of them hesitated, even for a second. Did anyone think, “What if this path isn’t as safe as it looks? What if the sea collapses?” But they were so consumed by their rage and determination that they followed blindly into the very thing that would destroy them. That’s what hatred and bitterness can do. It blinds us, leading us right into the dangers we can’t see because we’re so focused on our anger.

Through all of this, God was with the Israelites. He not only cleared the path ahead of them but also guarded them from behind. In verse 19, it says that the angel of God, who had been going before them, moved and went behind them, standing between the Israelites and the Egyptian army. God was covering every angle, making sure no one was left behind. He was with them at the front, leading the way, and at the back, protecting them. They didn’t have to fight the Egyptians—God did. Even when the Egyptians were trapped, bogged down in the mud, they recognized the truth. Verse 25 says, “And the Egyptians said, ‘Let us flee from before Israel, for the Lord fights for them.’” Even at the end, they saw God’s power and His faithfulness.

Can you imagine the story the Israelites had to tell after that? They saw the sea part. They saw the downfall of their enemies. They witnessed firsthand the power and faithfulness of God, who turned their impossible situation into a testimony of His strength.

So, remember: God’s got a plan, even if we can’t see it. When we’re in the valley, He’s there. When we’re on the mountain, He’s there. When we’re backed up to our own “Red Sea,” He’s there, working it out in ways we might never expect. You don’t have to know the whole plan to trust that God has one. He goes before us, making a way, and He stays behind us, covering every step.

The battle belongs to God. And when He speaks, mountains move, seas part, battles are won without us even lifting a finger. Just like with the Israelites, He’s leading us on a journey we don’t fully understand yet. But we can rest knowing that He’s with us every step of the way—before us, behind us, surrounding us.

What a mighty God we serve.

[southerngraceful]

Trusting God in the Valleys

Job.

Y’all, the Book of Job is WILD.

It kicks off with this almost unthinkable conversation between God and the Devil. The Devil points out Job—this man who’s been loyal, faithful, blameless his whole life—and says, “Well, of course, he’s faithful. Look at everything he has! Take it all away, and watch what happens. I bet he’ll curse You to Your face.”

And God allows the test. He told the Devil, “Go ahead. Do what you want with him—just don’t take his life.”

Challenge accepted.

But here’s the incredible thing: God knew Job’s heart. This wasn’t some blind test or gamble; it was rooted in the deep relationship between God and Job. At one point, God even calls Job “friend.” Think about that—God wasn’t putting Job through this because He doubted him. He knew Job so well, loved him so deeply, that He was confident Job’s faith would hold strong.

God knew that no matter what the Devil threw at him—no matter the pain, loss, or heartache—Job’s heart was anchored in Him. God trusted Job’s loyalty because He understood his heart like no one else could.

And so, the Devil took everything. Job’s family, his wealth, his health—it was all gone. He ended up sitting in ashes, covered in sores, broken and alone. And the only people left around him were three “friends” who didn’t exactly do much to comfort Job.

These friends basically spent chapters telling him he must’ve done something wrong. Over and over, they insisted, “Come on, Job, God wouldn’t let this happen to you if you were truly innocent. Own up to whatever it is you’ve done wrong, and maybe things will turn around.”

One friend, Bildad, really drove it home in Chapter 18. He told Job, “The light of the wicked is put out.” In other words, people who go through suffering like this must be far from God. Bildad was convinced Job’s suffering was punishment, plain and simple.

But here’s the thing—Job didn’t back down. He didn’t say, “Yeah, maybe I deserve this.” He knew he hadn’t sinned against God, and he refused to lie just to make his friends more comfortable. Instead, he challenged them. “Take it up with God—He’s allowed all of this,” he told them.

Job’s friends couldn’t see his heart, but God could. God knew his integrity, his faith, and his loyalty. Even when Job was at his lowest, he clung to that truth.

Job went on to list his pain, his isolation, his loss. He had nothing. His family was gone, his friends had turned on him, his body was failing. He was barely more than bones. He’d lost it all.

And then, in the middle of his suffering, in Chapter 19, verse 25, Job makes one of the most remarkable declarations of faith: “For I know that my Redeemer lives.”

After everything—the suffering, the heartbreak, the loneliness—Job still held onto his faith. He believed, deeply, that God was with him. He knew that, even after all he’d lost, God was still his Redeemer. He believed that at the end of his suffering, he would see God face-to-face. “I shall see for myself,” he said.

God didn’t just see Job’s suffering; He saw Job’s heart. And that’s why He trusted him. Job’s story isn’t just about his endurance through hardship; it’s about a relationship so deep that God could trust him with this test, knowing Job’s heart would stay true.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately—how God is the same whether we’re in the valleys or on the mountaintops. He sees our struggles, yes, but He also sees the heart behind them. He knows when we’re clinging to Him, even when we’re barely holding on. He’s faithful in our highs and in our lows.

The God who knew Job’s heart so intimately knows ours too. He sees us in our valleys, and He never leaves us there alone. The same God who trusted Job’s heart in the hardest of times is the same God who walks with us through ours. He’s not just the God of blessing and abundance—He’s the God who stays with us in the desolate places.

Our God doesn’t leave us in our valleys. He doesn’t abandon us in our brokenness. He’s the God of restoration, of patience, of steadfast love. The same God who held Job’s heart in his darkest hour is the same God who holds ours.

And maybe that’s the most comforting part of all—knowing that God sees us completely. He sees our fears, our doubts, our faith, and our loyalty, even when the world doesn’t. And because of that, we can trust that no matter what comes, our Redeemer lives. We are never alone. God knows our hearts. And that changes everything.

[southerngraceful]

When You Feel Like There's Nothing Left

There are times when I feel like I have nothing left to give. Those hard seasons when you pour out everything for everyone else and feel like you're left standing in the aftermath, empty. When your cup is bone dry, and you don’t know how to fill it back up. In those moments, I feel lost. Confused. Hurt. So alone.

Disappointment settles in. It creeps up in ways I didn’t expect—disappointment in others, yes, but mostly disappointment in myself. It’s like training for a race with all you’ve got, running hard, pushing through every obstacle, only to fall short at the finish line. Worse, there’s no one there waiting to comfort you, to tell you it’s okay.

I’ll admit, there’s a deep pain when you feel like you’ve let yourself down. And carrying that weight alone? That makes it even heavier.

Sure, I know how to pull myself up by the bootstraps. I’ve done it plenty of times before. I’ve put on my big girl pants and faced the storm alone, figuring things out as I go. But even as strong as I can be, there’s a part of me that longs for help. For someone to share the burden, to whisper, “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

And yet, in those moments of loneliness, when it feels like I’m fighting every battle on my own, it’s so easy to lose sight of God. To wonder, where is He in all of this? Why hasn’t He stepped in? But if I’ve learned anything through the valleys, it’s this: those desolate, empty moments are not without purpose.

There is purpose in the loneliness. There is meaning in the disappointment. As much as it hurts, I’ve come to understand that these seasons—where I can barely see my own hand in front of my face—are the very moments God uses to draw me closer. When everything else is stripped away, and I have no one left to lean on but Him, that’s when He reveals Himself in ways I couldn’t see before.

Because when life is full, when I’m surrounded by distractions or the noise of other people, it’s easy to miss what God is doing. It’s easy to think that others are the reason I’m getting by, or that I’m making it through on my own strength. But when it’s just me, alone with my disappointment and doubt, that’s when I’m reminded that I’ve never truly been alone.

God is there, even in the silence. Even in the emptiness, He’s there. He shows up in the darkest places, bringing light where there is none. He uses those moments of loneliness to teach me something so profound—that my worth doesn’t come from my accomplishments or my ability to get everything right. It comes from Him.

He didn’t create me to leave me here, in the middle of my pain and disappointment. He made me with purpose, with intention. I am wonderfully and purposefully made. And though the loneliness feels endless sometimes, it’s in those moments that God reminds me who I truly am. He whispers, You are mine. He shows me my value when I’ve lost sight of it.

God hasn’t forgotten me. He hears my cries, He knows my pain. He’s with me—even here, even now, in the middle of my mess, in the deepest valley. And if He’s here with me in the darkness, I know He’ll walk with me into the light.

So even when I feel empty, when I’m tired and disappointed, I hold onto the truth: God is faithful. He hasn’t left. He’s still working, still shaping, still guiding. I’m not alone. I never have been. And neither are you.

[southerngraceful]

The God I Didn’t Know

“They said I should be scared of doing things I know you don’t like. Saying sorry every day, Because I was so afraid That you’d leave me, so I left you, chasing dreams I never found.”

Olivia Lane; Who I Thought You Were

This is the relationship I had with God.

Growing up, I was taught about an angry God—a "Hell, Fire, and Brimstone" God. A God who would smite anyone who did wrong. Who would bar you from Heaven for even one misstep. A God who brought down consequences swiftly and severely for the smallest mistake. There was no grace, no mercy. I grew up fearing God. He was the “stern father” figure—no-nonsense, abrasive, and never had to explain anything.

(I sometimes wonder if this was a “scared straight” tactic passed down by the Southern Baptist Convention to keep us in line, but that’s a story for another day.)

In college, I found myself in places I never thought I’d end up, with people I never thought I’d meet. But it was fun. It was one of the first times I felt like myself—seen, understood, like I belonged. And I suppose that’s what a life of sin offers: fun, belonging, acceptance. But with the image of a wrathful God in my mind, I figured I had no place with Him anymore. So I left before He could leave me.

Most of my twenties were spent in bars and at parties, surrounded by chaos and in relationships that only led to pain. Sure, I made incredible friends, and I have wild stories that sound like scenes from a movie. But, truthfully, much of that time was filled with heartache, loneliness, and confusion. It was a paradox—some of the best times of my life, but also some of the worst.

Looking back, I realize I spent much of that time searching for something I was never going to find.

At one of my lowest points, I didn’t know where else to go, so I went to church one Sunday morning. It was a place I hadn’t stepped foot in for almost 10 years—a place I’d been running from. But I needed somewhere to hide, somewhere I could be vulnerable and fall apart. So I found the biggest church I could and sat in the back row.

I didn’t go looking for God. Why would He want anything to do with me? A party girl who made one mess after another, someone who ran from Him before He could reject me, like breaking up with someone before they could break up with you.

But I kept showing up, Sunday after Sunday, alone. And I just sat there and cried. For almost a year, I kept coming back.

And as I showed up, God showed up. Slowly. He never rushed, never pushed. I never felt shame or judgment. Week by week, I started to learn who God really was. He wasn’t angry or harsh; He was kind, loving, patient, and forgiving. He was the warm hug, the gentle hand on my shoulder. He never lectured me; He gave me space to hear who He truly was.

He showed me grace, mercy, and forgiveness—long before I even asked for it or deserved it. But He extended it anyway.

I’m so grateful that God never gave up on me, even when I had given up on Him. I’m thankful for the patience He extended as I found my way back to Him.

But most of all, I’m grateful that the God I was taught to fear is not who God truly is.

I’m living proof that God will leave the 99 to find the one. He wants you. He wants you in His fold. He wants a relationship with you.

You are never too far gone for God.

[southerngraceful]

While We Wait, He Waits

We’re often reminded to be patient with God—to trust that He works in His own time, never early, never late. We hear that His timing is perfect, and that He uses trials, frustrations, and seasons of life to teach us patience. But here’s something we don’t talk about enough: how patient God is with us.How often do we push ahead with our own plans, only to turn back to Him when things don’t work out? In those moments, we might forget that while we’re learning to wait on Him, He’s already been waiting on us—patiently, lovingly, all along.

The Bible is full of stories showing just how patient God is. Time and again, He waits on us to try things our own way before we finally come back to Him, asking for help. His patience is shown all over in Scripture:

Adam and Eve: After their big mistake in the Garden of Eden, God didn’t just give up on them. He set a plan in motion to bring them—and us—back to Him (Genesis 3).

Noah’s Generation: Before the flood, God put up with humanity’s wickedness for years, giving people plenty of chances to change their ways (Genesis 6:5-7, 1 Peter 3:20).

The Israelites: During their 40 years wandering in the wilderness, God didn’t abandon the Israelites, even when they were constantly complaining and disobeying Him (Exodus 16-17, Numbers 14).

Moses: God was patient with Moses, even when he doubted himself and tried to back out of leading the Israelites (Exodus 3-4).

Jonah: When Jonah tried to run away from what God asked him to do, God didn’t just let him go. He gave him another chance (Jonah 1-4).

David: Even after David’s serious mess-ups, like adultery and murder, God didn’t write him off. He forgave David when he repented (2 Samuel 11-12, Psalm 51).

Peter and the Disciples: Jesus was so patient with His disciples, especially Peter, who denied Him three times. But Jesus welcomed Peter back with open arms (Luke 22:31-34, John 21:15-19).

Paul (Saul of Tarsus): Instead of punishing Saul for persecuting Christians, God completely transformed him into one of the most important voices for the gospel (Acts 9, 1 Timothy 1:16).

All of Us: God’s patience is for everyone. He doesn’t want anyone to miss out on knowing Him, and He’s not in a rush—He waits for us to come to Him (2 Peter 3:9).

All these examples show just how much God is willing to wait for us. He gives us time, space, and so many opportunities to turn back to Him because He loves us that much. God's willingness to wait and give us the opportunity to repent and return to Him is a testimony to His loving nature.

Honestly, there are days when I feel like I’m just running my own race, charging ahead full speed, thinking I’ve got it all figured out. And I imagine God watching, perhaps shaking His head, just waiting for me to slow down, realize I’m off course, and finally let Him guide me. He’s so patient, waiting for me to finally tire myself out, be still and listen. To hear His leading voice and to notice those little nudges He’s been sending my way.

I’m so grateful for God’s patience with me. I’m so thankful that God is endlessly patient with me, that He waits for me to come to Him, even when I’ve tried to do it all on my own. He still shows up, still finds favor in me, and I’m beyond thankful that He waits for me to catch up and be present with Him.

As I reflect on the vastness of God’s patience, I’m reminded that it’s not just about waiting on God—it’s about recognizing that He’s waiting on us, too. Maybe it’s time to ask: how often do I take His patience for granted? And what would change if I slowed down enough to meet Him in that place of stillness, letting His love and guidance lead the way?

[southerngraceful]

Miracles in the Desolate Places

When we read about Jesus feeding the 5,000, it's easy to focus on the miracle itself and miss the profound significance behind it. Yes, Jesus miraculously fed thousands of people with just two fish and five loaves of bread, but there's more to the story—something deeper that often gets overlooked.

The Bible tells us that Jesus and His disciples went to a "desolate place"—a remote, isolated area—seeking rest. But the crowd, driven by a desperate longing to see and hear Him, ran from all over to reach this barren place. Imagine that: 5,000 people showing up in a desolate location just to be with Jesus, to hear His words, and to be in His presence.

As the day wore on, the disciples realized the crowd was hungry. They suggested sending the people away to find food because, after all, there was nothing around—no food trucks, no restaurants, no homes offering a meal. But Jesus had a different plan. He instructed the disciples to go through the crowd and gather whatever food they could find.

The disciples returned with just two fish and five loaves of bread—hardly enough to feed themselves, let alone a multitude. But Jesus took what little they had, gave thanks, and began to distribute it. Miraculously, the food multiplied. It didn't just meet the needs of the crowd; it exceeded them, with an abundance left over. Everyone ate until they were full.

The miracle isn't just that Jesus multiplied the bread and fish. The true wonder is that He did it in a desolate place. A place where there was nothing. Sometimes, God chooses to work His miracles in our desolate places—in those barren, empty, seemingly hopeless moments—to show us that He is always present, always in control. He works in the desolate so that we can't mistake His hand in the miracle. It's His way of reminding us that even when we feel most alone, He is still there, providing for us in ways we never imagined possible.

Mark 6:30-44