Hi. I’m Grace Kelley. And no my parents didn’t name me for the actress, I actually married into the Kelley part nine years ago when I married my high school sweet heart Willy. Since then we’ve had three kiddos, and have weathered many hardships together, both personally and with others God has called us to walk alongside. Caring for people is our passion as a family, and my passion as a writer.
I am no stranger to hardship dear reader, and I know neither are you. But I also believe in a God of redemption who is always working for your ultimate good, and His ultimate glory, even in the midst of the most painful circumstances. This hope is enough to keep us going. There are waters of rest even in the valley of deep darkness. There is a way in the wilderness, and there are rivers in the desert.
It can be hard to believe that in the middle of all of the hardships of life, in the middle of whatever you are going through, that God sees you and desires to care for and refresh your soul. It can be hard to fathom that there is a God who knows and loves you from the top of your head, to the soles of your feet. And he knows that you are thirsty, bone weary, and exhausted. He knows I am too.
I have walked through the Valley of the Shadow of Death more times than I can count—sometimes I feel like it’s just where I live.
But even here, I am clinging to this truth—even here there is water. There is rest. There is provision. God will gives us enough while we eagerly await the complete redemption of all things. We don’t have to just white-knuckle our way through this valley, or this life. Even here God is leading us, loving us, and making a way for us.
I need to cling to this truth, and I know you do too.
God has not left you. He sees you. He will give you the grace for this day, and the next. And the next. But to receive that, we need to lean in. That’s what I hope we can learn to do here together. Let’s lean in to the very real refreshment that can come even in seasons of brokenness, hardship, and suffering. Let’s drink deeply of this river, this spring, so that we can keep walking another day. And another. And another.
We will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. We will see God redeem all things, bringing from the ashes—beauty, and from the suffering—glory. We will someday exchange these “light and momentary afflictions” for an “eternal weight of glory.” But until then—as we live in the tension of “the already, and the not-yet”, as we walk this dry ground as strangers and sojourners—God will provide us with more of himself: with a river in the wasteland, streams in the desert, springs on the bare heights. He will lead us beside waters of rest.
And one day soon, those waters will lead us home.