Faith Over Chaos

I am Sarah—not the dazzling beauty the Egyptians tripped over themselves to admire, but the one who went along with the lie because keeping the peace felt safer than rocking the patriarchal boat. The one who smiled tightly, nodded politely, and thought, “Sure, Abram, what could possibly go wrong.” That Sarah. The one who wasn’t applauded, but survived anyway.

Say you are my sister, that it may go well with me because of you, and that my life may be spared for your sake. Genesis 12:13 ESV

I am Sarah—the one who lived faithfully under the weight of cultural shame. Not because I was barren, but because I had children without a ring, a registry, or anyone’s approval. The one who walked into rooms knowing the whispers were already there, and still held my head up like, “Yes, I know what they think… and?” That’s me. The one who kept showing up anyway.

I am Sarah—the one who was absolutely convinced I had the better plan. The one who marched up to my husband with, “Listen, we can fix this. I’ve got an idea,” because waiting on God felt way too slow for my timeline. The one who wanted instant results, instant control, instant gratification… and genuinely thought, “What could possibly go wrong?” That’s me. The one who learned the hard way that my shortcuts only made the journey longer.

And Sarai said to Abram, “Behold now, the Lord has prevented me from bearing children. Go in to my servant; it may be that I shall obtain childrenby her.” And Abram listened to the voice of Sarai.  Genesis 16:2 ESV

I am Sarah—the one who felt jealousy rise the moment I wasn’t the center of attention. The one who let my insecurity turn into full‑blown mean‑girl energy, the kind that sends people running for the hills. The one who didn’t just side‑eye the situation… I scorched‑earth reacted and then wondered why everything felt broken. That’s me. The one who learned that jealousy doesn’t make me powerful—it just makes a mess God has to clean up.

I am also Sarah—the one who still received the covenant promise, even after all my detours and disasters. The one God renamed anyway, like He was saying, “Yes, I know your whole story… and I’m still choosing you.” The one who now stands under a new covenant, sealed not by my performance but by His Son’s blood. That’s me. The one who learns that grace doesn’t wait for me to get it right—it renames me while I’m still mid‑mess.

And God said to Abraham, “As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her name Sarai, but Sarahshall be her name.  Genesis 17:15 ESV

I am also Sarah—the one who tried to manage things with a little deception and a lot of unfaithfulness, and still found God waiting for me on the other side of my mess. The one He affirmed anyway when I finally stopped running my own playbook and started walking the path He actually laid out for me. That’s me. The one who learns that God doesn’t revoke His promises just because I took a few detours.

And I am Sarah still—the one God keeps meeting in the middle of my half‑baked plans and fully baked emotions. The one He doesn’t shame, but shapes. The one He doesn’t discard, but delivers. The one He keeps pulling forward, whispering, “Walk with Me. I’m not done.” That’s me.

I am the woman who has learned that God writes covenant stories with people who don’t always get it right the first time… or the fifteenth. The woman who discovers that restoration isn’t a reward for perfection—it’s the birthright of the beloved.

So I rise—renamed, reclaimed, restored. Not because I finally behaved, but because He never stopped being faithful. That’s me. The one grace keeps choosing.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!  2 Corinthians 5:17 NIV

Helping you find peace in the garden again- where grace meets every version of your story.

Which version of Sarah feels a little too familiar—the peace‑keeper, the planner, the jealous reactor, or the woman God keeps choosing anyway? Sit with that for a moment and ask yourself these questions:

1. What “better plan” have I pushed ahead of God because waiting felt unbearable?
2. Where have my insecurities shaped my reactions, and what might healing look like there?
3. What shortcuts have I taken that ended up making the journey longer, and what do they reveal about what I was afraid of?
4. Where do I still feel the sting of cultural or personal shame—and how might God be renaming me in that very place?
5. When have I reacted out of jealousy or fear of losing control, and what was I actually longing for underneath?