Page 145 of Dare to Hold
It’ll be the closest I’ve been to him since the day I told him I needed space.
And now?
Now I don’t know how I’ll make it through this service without my heart giving me away.
“Alright,” Pastor Jack says, his voice steady but kind, “let’s bring this together. We’ve talked about what it means to live thankful, grateful, and blessed. Not as a catchy slogan, but as a way of walking with Jesus every day.”
He lifts his Bible, flipping back a few pages.
“First—thankful. Scripture says in 1 Thessalonians 5:18, ‘Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.’ Notice it doesn’t say give thanks for all circumstances. Some of what you’re walking through is hard. Heavy. But God’s Word says that in every circumstance, there’s still reason to thank Him—because He’s with you in it. Thankful isn’t about pretending life’s perfect. It’s about anchoring yourself to the One who never changes.”
He pauses, letting the words settle.
“Second—grateful. That’s more than polite appreciation. Colossians 3:16 tells us, ‘Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly…singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.’ Gratitude flows when we realize we don’t deserve this grace, and yet God pours it out anyway. Grateful hearts worship. Grateful hearts see the fingerprints of God in ordinary moments—sunrises, laughter, friendships that carry us through. Gratitude shifts our focus from what’s missing to what’s already been given.”
Pastor Jack leans forward slightly, his voice lowering.
“And third—blessed. That word gets tossed around a lot, but Jesus defined it in Matthew 5:3 when He said, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’ Being blessed isn’t about possessions or perfect circumstances. It’s about knowing you belong to Him. It’s about peace that doesn’t make sense, joy that can’t be stolen, hope that reaches further than the grave. Blessed means you are held—fully, securely—in the love of God through Christ.”
He closes his Bible softly. “So as we go about our week, remember this: thankful looks back and says thank You. Grateful looks around and says I see You here. And blessed looks forward and says I trust You still. That’s the life Jesus invites us into. That’s the posture that changes everything.”
My chest tightens, the words settling heavy and gentle all at once. Thankful. Grateful. Blessed. It sounds so simple, but sitting here, it feels impossible. My past is littered with regrets, my present is full of questions, and my future feels like one big unknown.
I swallow hard, palms damp against my knees. My heart is pounding so loud I’m sure Harper and Olivia can hear it.
“If you’re sitting here thinking, I still have questions…but I know it’s time to come home, I want to walk you through what that looks like. You don’t have to have it all figured out first. Right now, right here, you can take that step. Would you pray this prayer silently, right where you are?”
I bow my head, but it’s already happening—my heart cracking wide open. Every word he says sinks deep, like he’s speaking directly to the ache I’ve been carrying.
“Repeat after me. Just pray something like this in your heart: God, I don’t understand everything, and I still have questions I can’t answer. But I know this—I’m a sinner, and I’ve lived for other things besides You. And yet, I believe You died for my sins. I believe the cross counted for mebecause of Your love. I believe You rose from the dead, and You live to give life to anyone who will call on Your name.
My lips move with the words, barely a whisper. My chest feels tight, like the weight of years is pressing down and lifting all at once. I’ve tried so hard to be enough, to hold myself together, to pretend I didn’t need saving. But right now—sitting here in this crowded room—it feels like every wall I’ve built is crumbling.
“I don’t understand it all yet, but as best as I know how, I choose to live for You first. Today I receive the free gift of forgiveness—not because of anything I’ve done, but because of what You’ve done for me. No matter how long I’ve walked away or how far I’ve rebelled, thank You that Your grace is still enough. Thank You for adopting me as Your son or daughter, for making me Yours.”
Tears slip down my cheeks as a strange peace settles over me. Steady. Like I’m finally standing still after a lifetime of chasing everything else.
“Now, with heads bowed and eyes closed…if you prayed that prayer today, if you’re crossing the line of faith and choosing Jesus—here in a moment, I’m going to count to three. And when I do, I want you to raise your hand. Because something happens in us when we respond outwardly to what God is doing inwardly. It’s an act of bold faith.”
He pauses, voice steady but urgent.
“One—God loves you more than you can imagine. Two—you’re not here by accident; He brought you here for a reason. Three—lift your hand. Right now. Don’t wait. Say with your whole life, I’m coming home. God, I need You. I receive Your forgiveness.”
A ripple of movement passes through the room. Jack’s voice softens, filled with awe. “Yes…hands going up. Keep them raised, high and steady. What a picture of grace—people all over this room saying yes to Jesus.”
I don’t even think.
I lift my hand.
It shakes, but it’s high. Bold. Like my soul is reaching toward heaven.
And in the stillness of that moment, I open my eyes—mostly to wipe the tears blurring my vision.
That’s when I see him looking down at me.
Gray.
He’s on stage, near the side, his head lifts just enough for our eyes to meet.
