By: Wendy Morris
I spent this Sunday morning having one-on-one time with Jesus. I didn’t physically go to church, but I had church.
There is something freeing about bringing physical fitness and spiritual fitness together. This morning, as I worked out outside with the leaves falling all around me, something touched my spirit so powerfully that I became overwhelmed.
Those trees were letting go of their leaves, preparing for another season of growth. Even though those leaves had served a purpose and provided shade, they couldn’t stay forever.
It made me think about how comfortable we become in our everyday lives, even when they aren’t all we want them to be—or all they could be. When we go through a rough season, we sometimes think we did something wrong or somehow deserve the pain.
But have you ever considered that some of the things falling away might be like those leaves? That God could be making room for new growth?
“Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.” — John 15:2, KJV
Jesus speaks about pruning so that we can bear more fruit. That reminds me that even something fruitful can need tending. A difficult season doesn’t automatically mean we’ve failed. There can be growth taking place that we don’t yet understand.
Sometimes we wouldn’t take that first step if staying where we were didn’t become uncomfortable.
Growth can be painful. It can be scary. It can be lonely. Letting go requires trusting God with what comes next, even when it takes us somewhere we never would have had the courage to go on our own.
But when we step outside our comfort zone and let go of what feels familiar, there can be something beautiful on the other side of that pain, loneliness, and fear. We may not see it while we’re walking through it, but that doesn’t mean God isn’t growing something new.
I fail every day. There are times I feel discouraged and want to give up. Then a friend sends a message out of nowhere. I meet someone on my walk. I care for a patient who reminds me of what really matters—or someone whose circumstances remind me of what God brought me through.
The morning after I published my testimony, my very first patient was a woman going through something so similar to my own story. She even had the exact same name as me.
It was 7:00 a.m. I had basically just clocked in when she checked in.
I didn’t mention my book or my testimony. I was simply there to encourage her, love on her, and reassure her.
“Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God.” — 2 Corinthians 1:3–4, KJV
That morning, I got to live that out.
God knew I had been questioning whether I should have shared my story. And there I was, first thing the next morning, caring for someone whose pain I understood.
I received that moment as His confirmation. I haven’t questioned whether I should have written it since.
I’m not ashamed of my story. Without it, I wouldn’t be who I am today.
I’m not perfect, and I don’t pretend to be. But I am a better person because of my relationship with God. He was there when I felt like no one else was, and He is still here all these years later.
That’s why I keep intentionally seeking Him. I know I won’t reach perfection on this side of heaven, but I want to spend the rest of my life growing closer to Him.
When I think about the next season, I find hope in these words:
“Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.” — Isaiah 43:19, KJV
I don’t know everything the next season holds. But I know the One I can trust to walk with me through it.
And if that means letting some leaves fall, Lord, help me trust You with the next season. 🍂
—Wendy
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