An Excerpt...
...from the upcoming release
Earlier I told you I would share some excerpts from my upcoming book, Anchored for the Storm. Who knew that “tomorrow” would take a week?
In any case, here is one devotional, and I will share a few more in the coming days.
Look, I myself will be with you every day until the end of this present age.
(Matthew 28:20)
Caregiving can intensify a particular kind of loneliness. Even when others love you well, there are moments no one else can enter. Three in the morning. A dark room. The steady rhythm of machines. The sense that this stretch of night might never end.
Jesus speaks these words at the close of Matthew’s Gospel to disciples he is sending into uncertainty. He doesn’t promise them clarity, safety, or ease. He promises presence. “I myself will be with you.” Not occasionally. Not only in sacred spaces. Not only when faith feels strong. Every day.
It’s worth remembering that Jesus understood what it was to feel alone. In Gethsemane, his closest friends could not stay awake with him. On the cross, he cried out words of abandonment drawn from the psalms. Whether one frames that cry theologically or psychologically, the fact remains: he entered the experience of isolation. He knows what that edge feels like.
Perhaps that is why this promise matters so much. He doesn’t offer what he himself refused to enter. He assures his followers that they won’t face their calling without companionship.
Caregiving days often blur together, love and labor woven into one long stretch without clear milestones. Through the ache, the paperwork, the quiet prayers you barely have energy to form, his presence doesn’t withdraw. It doesn’t fade when patience thins or when exhaustion settles deep in your bones.
You may not feel accompanied. But presence isn’t measured by emotion. The promise stands whether the room feels full of faith or hollow with fatigue.
You are not serving alone.
The One who has known the weight of isolation walks with you through hospital corridors, kitchen cleanups, and silent hours when no one else is awake. And he doesn’t leave.
Prayer
Lord Jesus, you know what it is to feel alone. When loneliness presses in and the night feels long, remind me that you are still here. Stay with me in the quiet hours, and help me trust your presence even when I cannot feel it. Amen.
Journaling Prompt
Where have you felt most alone in your caregiving journey? How does it change your perspective to remember that Jesus understands that feeling? Write in your own journal, or make a comment here if you want to share.
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