I was spinning, always spinning. In the front entrance of my childhood home, I would dance and sing and spin. Listening to WOW Worship on a Saturday morning, while my Mom and Dad were in the kitchen making pancakes for breakfast, I’d be in the living room with my sisters; dancing and spinning. It would be a warm day in the middle of summer, the grass soft and cool beneath my little feet and tickling my toes, as I’d jump and roll and spin in the front yard.

​

Life felt breathtaking, freedom seemed to be at my fingertips and I believed I was invincible.

​

But, as it goes, the fantasy of life began to ebb and fray the older I became. Challenges and struggles poked holes in my perfect bubble. Fearful thoughts crept into my mind and little did I know, I was spinning faster than I could control toward a day that would radically change my life forever.

​

Eighteen. That’s how old I was when I stood in my parents room staring at the lifeless body of my Dad on the floor. Moments before I was sure I was climbing out of my pit of despair and reaching for a brighter day. Instead, there I was, the world spinning madly around me and my Dad was dead.

​

Dead.

​

I had to let that word sink in.

​

The tears poured from my eyes, I gasped for air and my legs were weak beneath me. I had so many questions running through my mind - but above all, I wanted to know - where was God?

​

Life knocks us off our feet and rips the wind right out of us when we least expect it. We’d like to believe we’ll be ready for the hard blows we’ll face, but the truth is, we’re never ready for pain. Our lives our unpredictable, unsteady and each moment we’re stepping into another unknown. Yet somehow, despite the hardships, the pitfalls, the heartaches, or as the Bible clearly depicts, the valley of the shadow of death (Psalm 23:4), we make our way through. We keep moving forward; but how do we do this joyfully, with purpose, intention and hope?

​

I don’t know where you root your identity, what emotions you struggle with, what memories bring back tears, forcing you to swallow the enormous lump in your throat, but what I do know is that whether you’re sitting in your brokenness or just climbing out and trying to fit all the pieces back together: you weren't made to walk alone. 

 

I believed this lie for far too long. Growing up I often kept myself locked away from the world, hiding in my room; drowning out the noise of the world with music that played to the beat of my emotional heart. Alone was where I want to be, but it also felt like it was where I was supposed to be. Destructive thoughts filled my mind, to the point where I wondered if living was even worth it. And I believed the lie that labelling my endless array of dark emotions as depression and anxiety was the answer. But I've come to the place where I rebuke those lies that weighed me down, in the name of Jesus, because alone and afraid is not what we were made for. We have been made for so much more. 

​

We've been created with purpose. We've been created in love and by love. We've been created with intention. We've been created by God and for God and there is so much beauty and wonder when we chase after Him with our whole heart. 

​

Back in 2011 a still small voice didn't just break through the noise of hundreds of people in the area I was sitting in, it cut through the noise of my own thoughts. As clear as day I heard the Lord say: Write. One simple word reached into the crevices of my heart and soul, propelling me on a journey that eventually led to the birth of Rest and Remain in 2023. I've had my fair share of missteps and pitfalls, and God is still chipping and chiseling away at the stone cold parts of this stubborn heart of mine as He leads me into this space of surrender. Anxiety held me back for far too long, it crippled me, sucking the life right out of me. It kept me from stepping out in faith all those years ago and obey that still small voice. 

​

If there's anything I keep learning over and over again as I walk this narrow path, is that in order to truly know God, hear God and be all in with His will, we need to intentionally carve out time for Him. We need to make space to stare at Him; to lift our eyes in unapologetic adoration because "You can't get to know God on the fly. You don't create intimacy; you make room for it." (Paul E. Miller). 

 

As I've made room for this intimacy with God, I clearly see that even through my Dad's passing, God never left me. He was where He's always been, close beside me, because He never moves. As I've slowed down long enough to just be in His presence, I understand that the joy, the purpose, the intention and hope come from clinging to Jesus. As I've stepped into the shadow of His embrace, the lies have faded, the darkness has burst into light, my fears have crumbled and I've grown in confidence. Not in myself, but in my God. I am experiencing His hand in my life and I trust that He is on the throne and has everything under control. Even when life is spiralling and it feels like I need to hold on with white knuckled fists, I can let go. I can release my grip because I know the God I serve, I know I can trust that in my letting go, He is always holding on. 

​

Closer to Him is where I want to be and it's where I want you to be too. 

​

Welcome to Rest and Remain friend, I pray that through the resources I offer and words the Lord places on my heart that have become my worship, you will find yourself becoming lost in the sweetness of Jesus' love, experience His comforting embrace and saying yes to Him before a watching world. 

​

With much love, your sister in Christ - Krista