But the heart has other feelings. Hearts break, hearts weep, and hearts cry out for help. Hearts cling to the warm, fuzzy feelings of love, but they also hold on to profound loss, sadness, fear, and doubt. If we’re expecting our lives to look like the perfect Hallmark movie, the odds of that happening aren’t always in our favor.   

In the past few months, I feel the Lord has compelled me to use my writing and speaking in new ways. I have been speaking out about our country’s lack of commitment to biblical justice, as I understand it through prayer and contemplation. I’ve been using my gifts to serve God more boldly.

Most people think it is a great month of new beginnings, new goals, and new possibilities. For me, January has been a month of fasting, self-evaluation, and regrets. The regrets from the past year come crowding in. They whisper in my ear, “You are a failure. You are not good enough. God doesn’t love you. If he did, then you would have this or that. You will never. . .”

Suddenly, uncontrollable tears streamed down my face as pent-up emotions surfaced. I reached for a tissue while tears flowed, and relief flooded me. God uncovered the dreadful memory of a critique where someone’s harsh criticism plunged me into deep despair. After forgiving her, I thought everything was well, but it didn’t erase the words stuck in my head.

We love the idea of God fighting for us. We pray and ask Him to step in and change our circumstances—the cancer diagnosis, the lawsuit, the struggling marriage, the wandering child. And often, He moves in powerful ways. But God’s faithfulness does not always look like immediate rescue or visible victory. Sometimes His work is quieter, deeper, and more mysterious than we expect. Scripture shows us that while God is always present and always good.

Here’s what I’m slowly learning. Letting go doesn’t mean I don’t care. Resting doesn’t mean I’m lazy. Being still doesn’t mean I’m failing. It means I trust that God loves my family even more than I do. It means I believe he’s working behind the scenes, even when I can’t see it. It means I choose to believe I don’t have to fight every battle on my own. That kind of stillness takes courage, especially when you’re used to doing it all.

When I hear the word unstoppable, I usually think of progress. Forward motion. Checking boxes and getting things done. I think of effort, determination, and pushing through no matter how tired I feel. But God has been teaching me that unstoppable does not always look like constant movement. Sometimes it looks like letting go and trusting him to take the lead.

We often face situations that seem insurmountable, with no way out or resolution. It may even feel like we’re going under for the last time. We may think our fate is sealed and that we have no hope. Common sense, logic, reason, and rational thought tell us to give up and accept our fate. Just toughen up and take it like a man. That’s the exact opposite of what we should do.