Faith Over Chaos

Yesterday was heavy. I had thoughts, some spoken over me by others, some whispered by my own heart. Moments that still ache when I remember them. None of them were kind. They settled on me like a weight I couldn’t shake off or forget. They felt like rocks. Heavy ones.

But today, I woke different. I walked with God through my garden, and we wandered into the side I never show. The messy side. Where I’ve buried the thoughts that weigh me down. The part that has more weeds than roses right now. It’s the part of the garden I pretend doesn’t exist when company comes over. You know, the “don’t look behind that curtain” section of my soul. We stopped at an altar. Not a fancy one. The kind that marks a crossing. A moment. The kind Joshua built in Joshua 4, with twelve stones pulled from the middle of the Jordan.

Joshua set up the twelve stones that had been in the middle of the Jordan at the spot where the priests who carried the ark of the covenant had stood. And they are there to this day. Joshua 4:9 (NIV)

Joshua placed those stones there to create remembrance. I did too. They were the rocks from yesterday, the thoughts that made me ache. My rocks weren’t about crossing over—they were about what I couldn’t let go. I stacked them because I didn’t know what else to do with them. I couldn’t replace them, so I just… left them. I Figured if I ignored them long enough, maybe they’d disappear. But here we were—God and me—standing right beside them.

God asked, “What are those?”

I stood there in front of them like, “Nothing to see here. Let’s keep walking.” Like a toddler caught red-handed with a Sharpie and a freshly decorated wall. “Oh… those? Just… landscaping.”

But He didn’t move.

Not like an angry parent demanding answers—like a loving Father who wants to heal what I’ve buried. I moved aside and He saw the rocks. Each rock had etched words on them. Each bore a lie I’d lived with. Accusations. Assumptions. Shame dressed up as identity.

This was my collection. Sometimes, when a memory surfaced, I’d pick them up again—sit with them, carry them, believe them. Like a bad habit or a clearance-rack lie I couldn’t resist. “Ooh, this one still fits my insecurity perfectly!” I am none of those things. But some days, I cry. And fear they might be true.

I won’t share the words. I will share something better with you. I’ll share what happened next…

God told me as we went lovingly through each rock that this one was not true, that one is not true. And then God took each rock and helped me rewrite what each said. He replaced each accusation with a truth from His Word. He replaced every assumption with a promise. Every lie with a name He calls me.

Beloved.

See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. — 1 John 3:1 (NIV)

Redeemed.

In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace. — Ephesians 1:7 (NIV)

Chosen.

But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. — 1 Peter 2:9 (NIV)

Not forgotten. Not broken. Not too much.

We continued to walk and talk in my garden. Eventually, we circled back to that spot.

But it looks different now. Beautiful, even. The rocks weren’t worn or weathered anymore. Not chipped by age or dulled by shame. They look clean, shiny…redeemed.

Helping you find peace in the garden again— where even your ugly rocks can be rewritten by grace.

If you’re still carrying a few rocks of your own, maybe it’s time to sit with them—and with God—for a minute. These questions might help you start.

Here are some reflection questions that match the emotional arc of your garden walk, altar moment, and stone rewriting—layered with your signature blend of honesty, humor, and spiritual depth:

1. What “rocks” have I been carrying—spoken over me, whispered by me, or buried deep?
2. What truth does God want to etch over those lies today?
3. What would it look like to walk with God through the messy side of my garden?
4. What part of my garden have I kept hidden, and what does God want to grow there?
5. How does God see me when I stand beside my pile of rocks?