A Rising Remnant

Tag: reconciliation

  • Torn Between Two Loves: Sin and Savior

    Torn Between Two Loves: Sin and Savior

    My honest wrestle with sin and spiritual loyalty

    The Conflict of Two Loves

    As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been unfaithful to my Savior. More often than I care to admit.

    It’s not that I don’t care. It’s not that I don’t love Him, because I do. Because of Jesus, I’ve been able to experience a real and personal relationship with God. A love that reminds me I’m seen, chosen, and deeply known.

    The kind of love that covers shame, quiets fear, and heals places I didn’t even know were bleeding.

    It’s beautiful, but it also comes with a cost. A cost that requires me to crucify my flesh daily and walk away from what once comforted me. Because on the other side of that beauty is real darkness. A devil that hates the love God has for His children. And because he hates it, he attacks it.

    He feeds the sinful nature inside all of us, the part that craves gratification, attention, escape. The part that wants what it wants right now. And if you’re not watchful, if you slip, if you’re tired or vulnerable, it creeps in. Quietly. Quickly. Convincingly.

    It’ll sound like:

    “Just this once.”

    “God will forgive you.”

    “No one has to know.”

    But that’s the trick. The enemy’s only real power is deception. And deception, when believed, leads to disobedience.

    The Allure of Sin

    Sin doesn’t always show up looking like a red flag. Sometimes it shows up dressed in comfort, in old habits, in desires that whisper, “This will make you feel better.” It doesn’t come as a threat, it comes as a relief. A temporary escape. A numbing agent.

    For me, sin often comes when I’m tired. Weary. Waiting on God and wondering if He hears me. And before I know it, I find myself entertaining thoughts, habits, or even people that I’ve already told God I was done with. I’ve cried real tears over wanting to be better… wanting to honor God with my body, with my choices, with my loyalty, but then I find myself going back to what I know leads me further from Him.

    Sin is patient. It waits until the moment you’re spiritually dry, emotionally vulnerable, or just hungry for affection, attention, or control. And when it finds an opening, it doesn’t ask permission. It slides in like an old lover who knows just what to say.

    And the worst part? Sometimes I say yes.

    The Rationalization and Rebellion

    “I’ll repent later.”

    “I’ve already done it before, what’s one more time?”

    “I’m human.”

    I’ve used every excuse in the book to justify going back to things I know break God’s heart and mine too, honestly. It’s not just rebellion… it’s self-betrayal. Because every time I choose sin, I betray the healed, whole, obedient version of me that I’ve been praying to become.

    And yet… God doesn’t stop loving me.

    That’s what makes this so complex.

    The same love that should anchor me… sometimes becomes the thing I take for granted.

    The Hidden Cost

    Sin doesn’t send an invoice right away. It waits.

    At first, everything feels good, even freeing. But later… comes the shame. The distance. The confusion. The heavy silence in prayer. The feeling that I can’t look Jesus in the eyes, not because He turned away from me, but because I’m hiding, like Adam and Eve in the garden.

    Sin has cost me clarity, peace, spiritual confidence, and time. It’s made me question whether I’ll ever really change. Whether I’m capable of true commitment to Christ. It’s made me feel like a fraud even while leading or encouraging others.

    But grace won’t stop chasing me.

    The Turning Point

    There’s no single dramatic moment I can point to where everything shifted. For me, it’s been a series of quiet convictions. The kind of conviction that doesn’t shame me, but gently pulls me back to the feet of Jesus. The Holy Spirit doesn’t yell, He whispers.

    Sometimes, the turning point looks like me deleting a number. Saying “no” when my body wants to say “yes.” Being honest in prayer and saying, “God, I still want this… help me not to.”

    And sometimes, the turning point is just getting back up after I fall.

    Coming Back Home

    I’ve learned that repentance isn’t about perfection. It’s about posture.

    God isn’t asking for flawless behavior, He’s asking for a loyal heart.

    And loyalty looks like showing up, even after I’ve messed up.

    It looks like surrendering again and again.

    It looks like trusting that Jesus already paid for my failures, and I don’t have to keep paying for them with shame.

    Every time I return to Him, I find open arms.

    Not punishment. Not distance.

    But grace. Healing. Renewal.

    And somehow… He still calls me His.

    Final Reflection: Torn, But Choosing Love

    I don’t write this from a place of having arrived, I’m still on the journey. I still get tempted. I still feel weak sometimes. But I’m learning how to fight differently. I’m learning how to recognize the lie before I agree with it. I’m learning how to choose God, not just because He loves me, but because I love Him back.

    And that love? It’s worth protecting.

    If you’re struggling like me, torn between what you know is right and what your flesh still craves, you’re not alone. And you’re not too far gone.

    God sees your heart. He sees the effort. The tears. The wrestling.

    Keep coming back to Him.

    Every time you do, He’ll still be there… arms open, heart ready, grace fully available.

    Reflection Question:

    Do I love God enough to walk away from what keeps separating me from Him?

    Prayer

    Lord, I don’t want to keep choosing what pulls me away from You.

    Give me the strength to walk away from what feels good, but harms my soul.

    Remind me of Your love when I feel weak and help me to love You more than I love my comfort, my habits, or my desires.

    Don’t allow me to have peace with the things that try to keep me separate from you.

    Thank You for never giving up on me, even when I’ve wandered.

    Today, I choose You again.

    Amen.

  • When You Want to Be Understood but Choose Peace Instead

    When You Want to Be Understood but Choose Peace Instead

    Because sometimes peace is louder than being right.

    Growing past the need to be right

    Let me be real… I love a good heart-to-heart. Like, I genuinely want to understand and be understood. I want resolution. I want clarity. I welcome challenges. I try to make sure I create a safe space for people to be vulnerable and heard. I want to walk away from conversations feeling like, “Yes, they saw me. They heard me. They got it.”

    But life doesn’t always give that back.

    Sometimes, after all the explaining, all the deep breaths, all the emotional preparing… you still feel unheard. Misread. Misunderstood.

    And let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow. Especially when you’ve spent so much of your life not having a voice, or constantly having to defend it. When you’ve been silenced, overlooked, or brushed off in the past, feeling unheard now can feel like reopening a wound you thought was already healed.

    But here’s what I’m learning, slowly and painfully:

    Peace sometimes looks like walking away without the last word.

    It’s not that I don’t care. It’s not that I’ve given up. It’s that I’ve grown.

    Because growth says:

    “I don’t need to be right. I just need to be obedient.”

    “I don’t need to prove anything. I need to protect my peace.”

    “I don’t need to win this battle if it’s going to cost me my healing or drain my energy.”

    That doesn’t mean I don’t still want to be heard. Oh, I do. I really do.

    But I’m learning to choose what matters more in the long run.

    ⸻

    God reminds me in His word…

    “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”— Romans 12:18

    There’s so much freedom in that verse. It doesn’t say:

    “Convince them.”

    “Change their minds.”

    “Make them understand your pain.”

    It just says: if it’s possible… and as far as it depends on you… live at peace.

    That means I can only control what I bring to the table.

    I can only control how I show up, how I speak, how I respond.

    I can’t control how someone receives me.

    It doesn’t say we’ll always get the last word. It doesn’t promise mutual understanding or a perfect outcome. It says do your part. Make room for peace. Be responsible for your end, and let God handle the rest.

    So today, I’m choosing peace. Not because it’s easy. Not because I’m passive.

    But because I’m learning that peace is power. It’s strength. It’s evidence of growth.

    And honestly, sometimes the most powerful thing you can say… is nothing at all.

    ⸻

    If you’ve ever been in that place:

    Where you wanted to scream, cry, explain, and break it all down word for word, but instead, you chose silence, prayer, peace or a quiet “okay”…

    You’re not weak.

    You’re not giving in.

    You’re not running.

    You’re growing.

    You’re protecting your peace.

    You’re becoming someone your healed self can be proud of. 

    The Healing in Surrender

    There comes a point in your healing where you realize: peace doesn’t always come with full understanding.

    Sometimes, it shows up wrapped in surrender.

    Not the kind that makes you small, but the kind that reminds you that choosing peace over proving your point is sometimes the most powerful thing you can do.

    We often think healing means closure, but sometimes healing is choosing not to carry the same weight forward, even when the answers never come.

    And here’s the part that challenged me deeply:

    “All this is from God, who reconciled us to Himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation.”

    — 2 Corinthians 5:18

    The ministry of reconciliation.

    That sounds big… because it is.

    It means we’ve been entrusted with the grace to pursue peace and healing, to bridge what’s been broken, not in our own strength but through the example Jesus gave us.

    It doesn’t mean we stay in unhealthy places. It doesn’t mean there’s no room for boundaries. It means we allow God to lead us in repairing what can be repaired, and releasing what can’t.

    Reconciliation may not always look like relationship.

    But it can look like peace in your spirit, clarity in your role, and love that no longer has to prove itself.

    That’s where I’ve landed lately… and it’s a freeing place to be.

    A Prayer for the One Choosing Peace Today

    God,

    Help me trust that even when I feel misunderstood, You see me clearly.

    Keep reminding me that I don’t have to fight every battle, only the ones You’ve assigned to me.

    Give me the courage to let go when I’ve done all I can.

    Let my peace be proof that I’m walking with You.

    And when I can’t make sense of the silence, hold me in it.

    In Jesus name. Amen.