How Do You Move Forward After a Difficult Season? Finding Hope When You Feel Stuck

A woman I counseled asked a question that many people quietly wrestle with after a season of deep hardship:

"Were you ever stuck for a long time after everything you went through? How did you begin moving forward?”

If you are in a season where you feel stuck—whether because of grief, regret, loss, betrayal, or circumstances you cannot change, you may find yourself asking similar questions. My hope in sharing this conversation is not to offer quick answers, but to help you think biblically about what it looks like to grieve honestly while learning to move forward in faith.

I have certainly experienced seasons of prolonged grief and regret. And though now those expereinces are not as debilitating, don't endure as long, and don't happen as frequently, I still experience profound regret over the parts of my story I cannot change and the impact that has had, especially on those I love.

How grief returns even after healing

I think that is why John Piper's brief reflection on grief has been so meaningful to me over the years. His phrase "occasionally grieve deeply" captures something important about the Christian life: grief may return, but it does not have to rule us. You can watch his short reflection here: [https://www.desiringgod.org/embrace-the-life-god-has-given-you].

"Occasionally grieve deeply" means at least two things:

• You can't grieve all the time.

• Sometimes (on occasion) grief comes back.

I think this is a normal part of Christian life. One reason I think that is because of how often we see Israel grieve the past, even though sometimes the psalmist is grieving things that happened hundreds of years before he wrote. (See, for example Psalms 44, 74, 78,  106) Repetitive grief is normal.

Piper also speaks about pivoting away from grief and toward living the life God has given (versus the life we wish we had).

How I have learned to move forward when I feel stuck

For me, pivoting has looked like many things.

One key strategy I have learned over the years is to consciously be aware that I am slipping into despair. I stop and name it. I notice it. And I ask God to help me not slip.

God doesn't always prevent it. And when He doesn't, I remind myself:

"You have felt this way before. God saw you through it. He can do it again."

I’ve frequently returned to another Piper quote that speaks to this:

‘It follows from this that we should all fortify ourselves against the dark hours of depression by cultivating a deep distrust of the certainties of despair. Despair is relentless in the certainties of its pessimism. But we have seen again and again, from our own experience, that absolute statements of hopelessness that we make in the dark are notoriously unreliable. Our dark certainties are not sureties. While we have the light, let us cultivate distrust of the certainties of despair.” (Emphasis mine.)

That quote is from pages 42–43 of his very helpful book, When the Darkness Will Not Lift, available for free at DesiringGod.org.

Practical ways to pivot toward hope

And then there are so-called pivoting strategies. They all largely fall into the category of obeying Colossians 3:2:

"Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things."

This is more than "getting your mind off" your negative emotion. It is actively seeking to move your thoughts from a place they no longer belong to a place that is more fruitful, more hopeful, more obedient, and more trusting.

You may have used some of these:

• Move your body to move your mind.

• Serve others sacrificially.

• Read God's Word.

• Read a good story.

• Take a walk.

• Take photos of flowers.

• Spend time with a grandchild.

Learning to Live Faithfully in the Place God Has You

Remember that God speaks hope to Israel even when she has strayed.

Jeremiah 29:5 says to Israel (Judah in this case, exiled in Babylon):

"Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce."

Build and Plant

Work toward the future even though it's not the one you wanted and even if it's partially your fault.

Settle Down

Accept what is.* Work with what you've got. Don't pine away for the way things should have been. Make a home where He has you.

Find Joy Where You Are

Eat from the garden in the land of exile, build relationships, pour into your people, lean into the hard, and do it with joy even in your land of sorrow.

You can read the broader passage here, Jeremiah 29:4-7.

Judah in exile was suffering, in part because of their own sin, their parents' sin, the sin of their leaders, and they also suffered great injustice at the hands of Babylon.

But that didn't derail God's plan.

And none of your own sin and suffering derail His plan for your life either.

When your story is not the story you would have written

The story written for you, for me, might not be the one we would have written for ourselves. But who are we? He gets to decide.

So we bow the knee and fight for faith, day by day, to remember that God knows more and better. And if He says He will bring ultimate good from all our sin, mistakes, weaknesses, and all the ways we've been unjustly treated along the way, then we can believe it is the truest part of our story.

I'll say one final thing.

Remember in your grief and sadness and confusion and anger about the past:

Do not sin.

There is grace and forgiveness when you do.

But whatever "strategy" you choose, choose to love God and others well first.

Grace and peace friend,

Jacqueline

*Please note, I wrote this post as an actual letter to an actual counselee, and I know her circumstances. While I’ve worked with many women who might find comfort and clarity in the message of this post, others might be in situations they should absolutely not merely accept, but should actively work toward changing. Case in point, when God opened the doors for the remnant of Judah to leave captivity and return to rebuild life in Jerusalem, they were wise to do so.

On Worrying and Setting Right Priorities

Psalm 37:3-7 (CSB)

3 Trust in the Lord and do what is good;
dwell in the land and live securely.
4 Take delight in the Lord,
and he will give you your heart’s desires.

5 Commit your way to the Lord;
trust in him, and he will act,
6 making your righteousness shine like the dawn,
your justice like the noonday.

7 Be silent before the Lord and wait expectantly for him;
do not be agitated by one who prospers in his way,
by the person who carries out evil plans.

Luke 10:38-42 (ESV)

38 Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house. 39 And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to his teaching. 40 But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” 41 But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, 42 but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”

So far this year it seems like I’ve had more conversations than normal on the issue of setting priorities. Or at least that’s where we end up. We often start out thinking through anxiety, overwhelm, and a compulsion to control. Women are worrying. About a lot of things. An aging mom‘s dependence on pain pills. A brilliant daughter whose grades have plummeted. A husband won’t listen no matter how carefully his wife chooses her words. What kind of world will be left for our children to inherit. These are real conversations. Real burdens.

It’s these burdens that prompt a deep dive in the counseling room into what it looks like to honor God when you suspect you can’t do it all but feel like you have to try. The women I’m working with are seeking to grow in discernment and grow in wisdom. We are asking hard questions. What part of this is mine to do? What part is someone else’s? And what do I do if they don’t?

I’m reading Alan Noble’s new book, To Live Well, and this sentence from the introduction stopped me:

”Look beneath the usual culture war hot topics, look beneath the appearances of justice to see what Christ is calling us to, what our right obligations are, and how we can practice those in the world that demands everything of us all time.”

Obligations? Yes. But right obligations. A yoke that fits us. The yoke where Jesus is carrying the heavy side. Setting priorities correctly means learning to discern when to trust and how to obey. It takes knowing when the “to do” is wait and pray.

God help us, in and out of the counseling space, to turn away from demands to do, have, and be everything so that we can learn the “one thing needed,” in all the areas of our life.

A Psalm of Lament for a Parent Estranged

In the pattern of Psalm 13

How long O Lord, counted nights turned into years?

The face hidden,

The name not mentioned,

Even tainted joys forgotten.

How long will I sink beneath the waves,

Regretting what was,

Fearing what might be?

Hear me, help me, hold me,

Or I will sink beneath the grief.

The enemy says,

“I’ve won.

God’s lost.

And it’s what you deserve.”

Is this the last word?

I trust that You love

The sorrow filled one

Who with anguish unceasing implores,

“Would that I be cut off

so that mine could be restored!”

Here I bow, stumbling to my knees.

I will worship while I wait.

I will worship while I weep.

Come quickly,

But please not before you save.

Good Endings: 5 books I Reread as a Biblical Counselor When Hope Feels Hard

I’ve noticed the last few weeks that one of the advantages of bleak midwinter is that keeping the blinds closed to hold in the heat means the stainless steel appliances in my kitchen looked clean. Now that I live in a place with winter, I’ve realized that maybe the reason spring cleaning is “a thing” is because when you throw open the curtains and let the spring sun in, it shows the smudges on your microwave and the spots you missed with the mop on the wood floor.

There is a very loosely connected analogy in there somewhere for hope. I want to be a hopeful person. Although reluctantly, I admire optimism. And I do believe God has promised to do us good. But I also know that in winters of the soul, desire it though I might, hope seems as elusive as the light I need to actually see my kitchen well enough to clean it. I think this is a terrible metaphor, but in the name of building trust with people who might be considering counseling with me, I will say, you now know ChatGPT doesn’t write my posts.  :) That, and the lack of em dashes.

One of the ways I throw open the windows, so to speak, for my soul, is through books that point towards good endings. Here is my list of books I reread as a biblical counselor when hope feels hard.

#1 Notes From the Tilt-A-Whirl, N.D. Wilson

I don’t know of any book in the last 10 years that has woken me back up to the miracles in the mundane more than this one. Favorite quote:

“We are dying. We must die. The road is well traveled. We need not fear the dark, for the way is lit with Christmas lights…We are devoured—by each other, by the earth, by time, by cancers and confusion, by the spinning of this sphere as it runs its balanced laps. We are in Winter, where the light dies and the blood runs cold. But we are not forgotten. Wet, ripped from the trees and trampled, we will not be lost, for we are His words, and when his voice calls, we will come.” p. 179

#2 The Bruised Reed, by Richard Sibbes

This was among the first books I read by a Puritan author and, besides Pilgrim’s Progress, the one I have returned to most frequently. Favorite quote:

“Let us not be discouraged at the small beginnings of grace…we must consider ourselves as Christ does, who looks on us as those he intends to fit for himself. Christ values us by what we shall be, and by what we are elected unto. We call a little plant a tree, because it is growing up to be so.” p. 17

#3 Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

I have written elsewhere about how Frodo and Sam and Middle Earth were used by God to reorient me to the reality that there is joy even when your life has fallen apart. Of course there’s not a single favorite quote. But I do love this one:

“At last, weary and feeling finally defeated, he sat on a step below the level of the passage floor and bowed his head into his hands. It was quiet, horribly quiet. The torch, that was already burning low when he arrived, sputtered and went out; and he felt the darkness over him like a tide. And then softly, to his own surprise, there at the vain end of his long journey and his grief, moved by what thought in his heart he could not tell, Sam began to sing…Though here at journey’s end I lie in darkness buried deep, beyond all towers strong and high, beyond all mountains steep, above all shadows rules the Sun and Stars for ever dwell: I will not say the Day is done, nor bid the Stars farewell.” (The Return of the King, p. 195)

#4 The Bible in Modern English by J.B. Phillips

One of the most spiritually invigorating things I know to do when my soul is carrying heavy burdens or my spiritual eyesight is dull is to pick up a translation of Scripture I don’t use as often. Elisabeth Elliot loved this translation, and I was exposed to it through my many trips through all of her books. A favorite verse:

“At that time we were completely overwhelmed, the burden was more than we could bear, in fact we told ourselves that this was the end. Yet we believe now that we had this experience of coming to the end of our tether that we might learn to trust, not in ourselves, but in God who can raise the dead. It was God who preserved us from imminent death, and it is he who still preserves us.” 2 Corinthians 2:8-10

#5 The Silver Chair by C.S. Lewis

My first biblical counselor was very reluctant to give me “homework,” and I remember being quite disgruntled over it. I wanted…To. Be. Fixed. But he did assign this book and suggest I reconsider which of the narratives I was telling myself about my life was the true one…the doom and gloom version that regularly swept me into despair…or the moments where I had glimmers of hope. Turns out Rilian and I had something in common. From Aslan to Eustace,

“Perhaps you do not see quite as well as you think.” p. 27

If you are looking for spring reading to help you remember all the reasons you have to be filled with hope, maybe one of these will help.

And if you know how to keep the microwave from looking smudgy, let me know.

Rethinking Self-Compassion

When Instagram tells me I should be practicing self-compassion, I feel unsettled. When a woman I’m counseling fills in the blank of my prayer prompt, “God help me…" with “Give myself grace,” I pause. Why? For one, in the moments I presumably need it the most, I can’t muster it. How can I give myself grace when there’s no grace in me to give? And second, when I try to find self-compassion in the Bible, it remains elusive.

And so, I want to trace compassion through the pages of Scripture and understand how we are to respond when we are suffering and tempted to be too exacting of ourselves or when guilt lingers even though we know we are forgiven.

Compassion in Scripture starts with God. How does he treat the downtrodden? How does he respond to the suffering…those who suffer at the hands of others and those who suffer because of their own sin?

The first thing we see is that compassion/graciousness/mercy are attributes of God. He doesn’t have to put on compassion or work it up through willpower. In ways unique to the Godhead, He is compassion, mercy, and grace. He tells Moses on Mount Sinai (during the second visit, after Moses has broken the tablets in dismay over Israel’s rebellion in making the golden calf during his first trip) that he is,

“The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness,” Exodus 34:6

David proclaims,

“The Lord is good to all; he has compassion on all he has made.” Psalm 145:9

And Matthew describes this attribute on display in Jesus: “When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Matthew 9:36

Compassion starts with God. It is who he is and what he does.

The second thing we notice is that the pinnacle expression of God’s compassion is demonstrated in the sacrificial death of Christ on the cross.

“For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” 2 Corinthians 5:21

“He has rescued us from the domain of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of the Son he loves.” Colossians 1:13

“He saved us, not because of righteous things we had done, but because of his mercy.” Titus 3:5

In 1 Peter 1:3, Peter explicitly connects God’s call to believers made possible by the resurrection as stemming from this same attribute.

“According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.”

So far we observe compassion originating in the personhood of God and extended to us fully in Christ. If we continue, we see that the reality of God’s compassion for us creates a call in us to respond to other fellow sinner-sufferers in like kind. All believers in Jesus are the servant with the unpayable debt who are met with mercy and compassion, and of whom mercy and compassion towards our fellow debt-owing servants is required. (Matthew 18:21-35). Throughout the New Testament, the refrain is the same.

“Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.” Luke 6:36

“Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience.” Colossians 3:12

Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as Christ God forgave you. Ephesians 4:32

Now, to be clear, being merciful to fellow sinners, being patient and gentle, and forgiving those who have wronged us are not always easy commands to obey. But because they are commands, rooted in the character and power of God, there’s hope for us as Spirit-indwelled believers to grow in obedience to them. Is the impulse towards self-compassion categorically the same? Is it implied in other commands or a logical extension of how the theme of compassion is developed in the Bible? It is not ever commanded directly, which is noteworthy because the vibe I get sometimes from influencers and experts in mental health is more akin to “How DARE you not have self-compassion?!”

As a believer in Jesus, a believer in his inerrant, efficacious Word, and as a biblical counselor to women, often in the hardest places in their lives, I ask myself, when presented with the invitation to have mercy on myself…Is this scriptural? Because to be frank, if it’s not, I don’t have time for it. On one hand, I know I’ve sinned, and I know I’ve suffered. Honestly, I know sometimes I’m hurting really deeply. That impacts my relationships and my growth in holiness. Is the answer "Give yourself grace"? Because if it is, I’m in trouble. The weight of regret leaves no room for so-called self-compassion, for this grace I’m supposed to be able to somehow find amongst the bad memories and lingering heartbreak. Can I just echo Paul, “What a wretched man I am!” (Romans 7:24).

Yes, I think I can. And therein lies the answer. I don’t need self-compassion. I need rescue! I don’t need to give myself grace. I’m dead in the water on those counts. But Paul keeps going, and he’s pointing me in the right direction: “Who will rescue me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”

So when I am in despair because I see myself and don’t see in myself any ounce of grace to comfort myself…I do have Jesus Christ my Lord. I have his rescue, his mercy, his compassion, his grace. It is a fair (and perhaps too uncommon) question, “But how do I avail myself of that compassion? What do I do when I feel overwhelmed in real misery?” When I feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders and I’m crumbling, if the answer is not some variety of "Go easy on yourself,” what is it?

The pattern I see in Scripture is RECEIVE the grace and mercy and compassion of Jesus. This is not auto-generative…but there is something…often many things for me to do on route to this receiving.

Hebrews is one place I see this fleshed out…

“We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:15-16

Who gets me? Who knows my story? Who knows how hard it is still? Who understands? And who sticks around once they do? Who can make it better? Jesus does, and Jesus can. So I…

1) Draw near

2) Receive mercy

3) Find grace that helps in time of need

Again, how?

I do that in prayer. I do that with a posture that looks upward and not inward. Me with uplifted open hands saying, “Mercy,” not me shuffling around in the dark corners of my heart trying to find the elusive self-compassion.

I come to the throne by going to his Word, searching for the commands, principles, and promises that touch the points of my own weakness and grief. I receive mercy by gathering with his people, celebrating the Lord’s Table, worshipping at that throne of grace.

In all of these ways, I look for grace that helps until I find it. The psalmist captures the spirit of what I am talking about: “May your compassion come to me so that I may live, for your instruction is my delight." (Psalm 119:77)

Ultimately, our goal is to see ourselves as the Lord sees us. He cares about us when we are hurting. He is near to us in our brokenheartedness. (Psalm 34:18) He forgives us and does not treat us as our sins deserve. (Psalm 103: 3, 10) When we are overwhelmed, he helps us discern and apply, in our own particular set of circumstances, what “one thing is needed” (Luke 10:42). It might be confession or assurance of forgiveness. It might be rest, or better nutrition, or saying no to something that someone else can do. It might mean a long walk alone or a slow morning with a friend. It might mean time away from social media and more time memorizing Scripture. It might mean sitting down with a counselor or a pastor or a seasoned saint to figure some of it out. It can mean so many things, all done in dependence on the grace and mercy received from a compassionate, loving Savior. I can’t do it on my own. But I can receive it from the throne of grace, and with Jesus’ help, I want to keep on getting better at doing that, free from the impossible burden of self-compassion.

Good Endings: Learning from Powlison about Restoring Joy for the Sexually Broken

David Powlison might be the only author I have ever read whose books I have recommended to friends, family, and counselees without any qualification. Throughout his ministry counseling and equipping counselors, he addressed the hard issues with the right measures of urgency and winsomeness. His short book, Making All Things New: Restoring Joy to the Sexually Broken, is no different.

One of the most unique things about this book is Powlison’s audience. Many books addressing sexual brokenness understandably adopt an either/or approach. There are solid books written to victims of sexual sin, and there are helpful resources for those struggling with a variety of sexual temptations. There are really helpful books on healthy and holy sex in marriage, and books on meaningful, joyful singleness. Powlison takes the road less traveled in addressing the victim, the sinner, the spouse, and the single person (acknowledging along the way that most of us fit more than one of those categories in different seasons of our lives). It’s rather remarkable he attempted such an ambitious goal, and more remarkable still that he succeeded so thoroughly, undoubtedly because he wrote with Christ-dependent humility and thoughtful dependence on God’s Word.

Powlison’s summary of Scripture’s message on sexuality captures this approach and highlights a core theme of the book: gospel renewal is for all of us.

“In sum, the Lord has a highly positive view of sex. He has a highly negative view of immorality. And he has a deep concern both for the consensually immoral and for the victims of the criminally immoral. He has more mercy than we can imagine. Of course, there are not two gospels, one for sinners and one for sufferers! There is the one gospel of Jesus Christ, who came to make saints of all kinds of sinner-sufferers and sufferer-sinners, whatever our particular configuration of defections and distresses.” (p. 19)

A second strength of Making All Things New is how it works like powerful camera lens, able to capture the wide panoramic foundational issues and background context, while also proving capable of zeroing in on practical details with focus that makes its counsel livable in the day-to-day.

This focus from wide to close-up is at its best in the middle chapters of the book, each considering renewal from a different angle. An encouraging example of this is in chapter four, where Powlison considers the timeframe, pacing, and duration of renewal. A key takeaway: because renewal is lifelong, repentance is a lifestyle. There is no “one and done” method, no “shock and awe” version of recovery from sexual addiction or healing from sexual abuse. Powlison fleshes out the theological concept of progressive sanctification practically. He says, “Sanctification is a direction,” and wisely helps strugglers and sufferers be intolerant of despair and lust while also being patient with their own growth and healing by placing their trust in their Lord step by step. He memorably quotes Luther to drive in this point:

This life is not righteous, but growth in righteousness; it is not health, but healing; not being, but becoming; not rest, but exercise; we are not yet what we shall be, but we are growing toward it; the process is not yet finished, but is going on; this is not the end, but it is the road; all does not yet gleam in glory, but all is being purified. (68)

As a biblical counselor to women, I regularly find myself in the privileged role of walking alongside those facing sorrow in their lives because of the impact of sin on God’s good gift of sex and sexuality. As a woman who lives in that same fallen world, I have benefitted greatly from the message of hope and renewal found in this honest, compassionate, and eminently practical book. I reread it nearly every year, and I wholeheartedly recommend it for those wanting to understand steps they can take toward Jesus as they seek the renewal only he can give.

Bilbo, Books, and Biblical Counseling

Although I had a truly wonderful fourth-grade teacher who introduced me to Narnia (thank you, Mrs. Bounds!), and even though I was a very bookish child, I somehow reached adulthood without knowing J. R. R. Tolkien’s name or literary legacy. That means Peter Jackson made the introduction, and although it was late, it was very welcome.

At the time, I was spending long hours in a rocking chair, caring for a nursing infant with reflux and sleep issues. So it was then, in my twenties, that I checked out The Hobbit  from the library and read it, followed quickly by the Lord of the Rings volumes. That beautiful baby turns twenty-five this year, and I owe her thanks for giving me an opportunity to sit still (or rock, as it were) and pore over those books.

Years later, as a forty-something, after more sorrow and tragedy than I will detail, I was numb with pain and blind to beauty. A trauma counselor pointed me to fiction as a means of finding my way back into my own story’s meaning. Tolkien’s Middle Earth is one of the places I went. As I have considered a title for a blog series of book recommendations I hope to share, I have been reminded of a conversation from the final volume.

In The Return of the King, Bilbo realizes that the story that had its “beginning” in his own life would not reach resolution until after his death. He suggests Frodo continue the tale in a book of his own. Along these lines, Bilbo asks,

“Have you thought of an ending?”

And Frodo responds,

“Yes, several, and all are dark and unpleasant.”

I confess that while I am unlike Frodo in his world-saving role, I can be a lot like him in my imaginings of dark and unpleasant endings. I am sure that I still shock my cheerful, glass-half-full husband of three years with my regular off-handed comments about what to do with the leftovers in case I die or when to water the flowers I planted in case I have a car accident, am subsecuently convicted of manslaughter, and spend the rest of my life in prison. Doom and gloom are just never far out of my mind.

Bilbo corrects me (and Frodo)…

“Oh, that won't do! Books ought to have good endings.”

And as a Christian, I agree. Our stories are meant for good endings. But the beginnings and middles of our stories can be so hard!

In my own quest, small as it seems, I am on a journey to find the books that point the way to the good endings. Not unlike Frodo and friends, our journeys are fraught with danger, temptation, and evil. Same-sex attraction? Suicidal ideation? Lasting depression? Paralyzing anxiety? Decimating grief? Destructive marriage? Wayward children? Treacherous betrayal? Incest? Intrusive thoughts? Adultery? Abandonment? Divorce? Cancer? Chronic illness?

All dark and unpleasant. But in the series, “Good Endings,” I hope to introduce the books that tackle these subjects and others in truthful, beautiful, and helpful ways so that we can find our way to the good endings in our own stories. And of course, many of these books I plan to describe point either directly or indirectly to a truth that Tolkien hints at through Bilbo’s wistful wonderings.

Bilbo: How would this do: “And they all settled down and lived together happily ever after?"

Frodo: “It will do well, if it ever came to that."

While we live here,  our lives are interwoven with light and joy amidst the dark and unpleasant. On our worst days we understand Frodo’s hesitation to believe it can still all work out. On our better days, when we believe there is a God working all things together for the good of those who love him, we often still feel like Bilbo is on to something when he responds,

“Ah! And where will they live? That's what I often wonder.”

Happily ever after? Yes. Together? Please. But where? Ultimately, it’s not here, but There.

Then I heard a loud voice from the throne: Look, God’s dwelling is with humanity, and he will live with them. They will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them and will be their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more, because the previous things have passed away. Revelation 21:3-4 CSB

Based on his promise, we wait for new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness dwells. Peter 3:13 CSB

In the upcoming periodic series, Good Endings, I hope to talk about the books that help us live as children of the light in a world touched by darkness. I want to read books that help me live this day in light of THAT Day and share them with you along the way.

How to Thrive in Counseling, Even If You're Scared to Start

Sitting on Both Sides of the Counseling Room

I’ve sat on both sides of the counseling room. I remember the flood of emotions and the racing thoughts. Every woman who walks through the door carries comes in with concerns, expectations, hopes, and questions. Some of the most common ones include:

• Will I be understood?

• Will this actually help?

• What if it doesn’t?

I may not be able to answer all of these questions right away, but I can do my best to speak to some of the deeper fears behind them.

One way I try to lay a foundation for a first session is by inviting women to fill out a personal background questionnaire before we meet. I used to say it helped us “hit the ground running,” but I’ve come to describe it differently. What it really offers is space—for both of us—to take a deep breath at the beginning. We aren’t starting entirely from scratch. Many women have found that putting parts of their story down on paper beforehand brings unexpected clarity.

When I receive this document, I read it prayerfully, asking God to help me understand the heart behind the words and prepare me to listen with compassion.

How to Make the Most of Counseling

There are other things you can do to make the most of the opportunities biblical counseling can provide. Here are a few suggestions:

1. Be committed.
Come to each session with a hopeful and humble posture. Counseling is a space for learning—about yourself, about God’s care and character, and about how he might be inviting you into growth and healing. Lean into the promise, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13) And remember, you can come with a heart that’s crushed, by your sin, by betrayal, by living in a broken world. Jesus is not only high and holy; he is also near the humble and heartbroken (Isaiah 57:15).

2. Be honest.
I know that talking about the hard places in your life isn’t easy. It takes time to feel comfortable. I consider it a privilege to hear whatever you’re ready to share. The more open you can be, the more clearly we can both begin to see how God may be working.

3. Be patient—with yourself, with me, and with the process.
Struggles rarely form overnight, and they don’t usually resolve overnight either. It may take a few sessions to get a full picture of your story. Change often comes slowly and in stages. But Jesus has promised to finish what he begins (Philippians 1:6), and counseling is one of the many ways we can witness him doing that work.

4. Engage outside the session.
Occasionally, I’ll offer growth assignments aligned with what we’re working on—things to reflect on, practice, or pray through between our meetings. At the end of each session, we’ll identify at least one way to seek God’s help in the days ahead. Let that focus shape your prayers as you walk with him through the counseling process.

Our struggles can feel overwhelming. But we don’t face them alone. Our help comes “from the Maker of heaven and earth” (Psalm 121:2). Jesus knows and cares deeply about every personal and relational burden we carry. He speaks through His Word, works by His Spirit through His people, and—graciously—sometimes uses counseling as a means to extend that care.