When The Oil is Almost……

There comes a quiet, terrifying moment when life shifts from someday to soon.

Not announced by trumpets or diagnoses alone, but by a deep, inward knowing. A slowing. A narrowing. The realization that the years ahead may now be counted not in decades, but in months… maybe a single turning of the calendar.

It is a strange thing to stand at the edge of time and look backward and forward at once.

Looking back, everything feels heavier. The good shines brighter than it ever did when it was happening—laughter around tables, ordinary mornings, the sound of voices that once filled the house. At the same time, the broken places ache louder. Regrets that once whispered now speak plainly. Words never said. Apologies delayed too long. Time wasted on things that never mattered as much as we pretended they did.

There is mourning in this reckoning.

We grieve not only what was lost, but what never came to be. The dreams that stayed dreams. The version of ourselves we meant to become. The relationships we assumed we would one day fix.

And then there is death—no longer a distant idea, but a presence. A face you must finally look at without flinching.

Surprisingly, it is not only fear that lives there.

There is also clarity.

When time grows short, false hopes lose their shine. The frantic bargaining quiets. The need to control outcomes loosens its grip. What remains is a fierce resolve: whatever time is left will not be wasted pretending tomorrow is guaranteed.

What remains is love.

It shows up in unexpected, ordinary flashes.

The sound of grandchildren laughing so hard they can’t catch their breath. Sticky fingers grabbing mine. Small arms wrapping around my neck as if I am the safest place in the world. The way their laughter feels like medicine and grief all at once—joy so full it almost hurts because I know how fast moments turn into memories.

It shows up in watching my children become adults.

I remember when I could fix everything with a kiss or a rule. Now I watch from a distance as they make choices—some wise, some painful—and learn lessons I cannot spare them from. I see their strength forming in the very places I once wanted to shield them. I see them stumble, stand back up, and become who they are meant to be without my constant guidance.

There is pride there. And heartbreak. And humility.

Loving them now means trusting what I planted, even when I don’t get to see the harvest. It means releasing control and believing that God is still writing their stories long after I am gone.

If life is narrowing, then let it narrow toward these moments. Sitting longer on the floor instead of rushing past it. Listening more than correcting. Letting laughter interrupt grief. Choosing presence over productivity.

Leaving behind not perfection, but love that was felt.

This is where faith becomes painfully real.

Scripture tells the story of a widow in Zarephath during a devastating famine. She had reached the end—just a handful of flour and a little oil. Enough for one final meal before death would come for her and her son. When the prophet Elijah asked her to give first from what little she had, it sounded unreasonable, even cruel.

But God met her at the edge.

The promise was not abundance stored away. There was no overflowing barn, no visible surplus. Instead, there was enough. Day after day. Meal after meal. The oil did not run out. The flour did not fail.

God gave her what she needed—but not more.

And maybe that is one of the hardest lessons at the end of life.

We want excess. Certainty. Extra time. Extra strength. Extra answers.

But God often offers daily provision instead of long-range guarantees. Grace sufficient for today. Strength measured for now. Hope that does not erase death, but carries us through it.

Standing here, with the oil running low, I am learning that this is not abandonment. It is intimacy.

God is still in control—even when control slips from our hands. He is still faithful—even when outcomes feel unresolved. He is still good—even when the miracle looks like endurance instead of escape.

If this is the last season, then let it be honest. Let it be gentle. Let it be generous.

Let it be marked by love poured out, not hoarded. By faith exercised, not explained away. By peace that does not come from having more time, but from trusting the One who holds time itself.

Like the widow, I may not see tomorrow’s supply today.

But I see the God who sustains it.

And for now—for this day—that is enough.


1 Kings 17:13-16 ESV

And Elijah said to her, “Do not fear; go and do as you have said. But first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterward make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the LORD, the God of Israel, ‘The jar of flour shall not be spent, and the jug of oil shall not be empty, until the day that the LORD sends rain upon the earth.’” And she went and did as Elijah said. And she and he and her household ate for many days. The jar of flour was not spent, neither did the jug of oil become empty, according to the word of the LORD that he spoke by Elijah.

When the Monster of Despair Breaks Loose

 The weekend was peaceful. The sun danced on the lake’s surface, laughter echoed from boats and picnic tables, and families enjoyed the gift of a late summer day. Children played in the water, neighbors waved from docks, and it seemed—for a few hours—that all was well with the world.

And then, without warning, tragedy struck.

Sometimes it comes through suicide. Sometimes through murder. Sometimes through reckless, careless disregard for the life of another. However it happens, when life is suddenly cut short, the sound of joy turns into screams, sirens pierce the calm, and a heavy black cloud falls—not only over the family, but over responders, friends, and witnesses who will never forget what they saw.

Beneath the surface of many lives, ripples of stress, grief, depression, and anger move quietly. At first, they seem manageable—just undercurrents in the waters of daily life. But in reality, a monster lurks there, hidden and waiting. Then, without warning, it breaks loose. Someone we love is pulled under by the monster of despair. The shock is devastating, and in its pull, families and communities are dragged unwillingly into the same dark waters—gasping for air, overwhelmed with questions, and weighed down by sorrow.

The question for us becomes: How do we not stay there? How do we keep from being swallowed by the same darkness? And how can we guard those we love from being dragged under as well?

This kind of trauma doesn’t stop with the moment itself. It shakes the foundation of families, wounds children in ways they cannot yet express, and unsettles entire communities. It leaves a wake of unanswered questions that echo:

• Why did this happen?
• Could it have been prevented?
• Where was God?
• How do we move forward when nothing makes sense?

These questions matter. But they also remind us of the need for patience and grace. In times of crisis, we must be careful not to spread gossip, not to jump to conclusions, and not to assign blame too quickly. Trauma needs space for honesty, lament, and the slow work of healing.

God’s Word tells us that life is precious, knit together in the womb by His own hands (Psalm 139:13–16). To Him, no life is meaningless. Every breath is sacred, every moment held in His care.

Yet Scripture does not ignore the depths of despair. Elijah sat under a tree and prayed, “It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life” (1 Kings 19:4). Job cried out, “Why did I not die at birth, come out from the womb and expire?” (Job 3:11). Jonah begged, “Therefore now, O LORD, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live” (Jonah 4:3).

Even the faithful struggled with crushing hopelessness. But in every case, God did not cast them away. He met them in their darkest places—sending an angel to strengthen Elijah, restoring Job, and teaching Jonah about His compassion.

Suicide is never God’s plan. Neither is violence or careless disregard for life. But neither is despair beyond His reach.

When tragedy strikes—whether suicide, murder, or reckless loss of life—we often wonder how God sees it. Does He turn His face away? Does He condemn? Scripture paints a different picture:

“The LORD is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18)
“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3)
Jesus Himself is described as “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3).

God responds not with coldness, but with compassion. At the cross, Christ bore the full weight of sin, death, and despair so that even in our darkest moments, hope would not be lost. His heart breaks with ours, and He offers comfort to the grieving and mercy for the lost.

When such tragedy shakes a family and community, our response matters deeply. Too often, silence or gossip deepens the wound. Instead, we are called to bring the presence of Christ into the pain.

• Be present. Sit with the grieving, even in silence. Presence often speaks louder than words.
• Listen without judgment. Families do not need quick answers or clichés—they need compassion.
• Guard our words. Refuse gossip. Resist speculation. Allow space for truth and healing to surface in God’s time.
• Offer practical help. Meals, childcare, financial aid, and steady friendship are powerful acts of love.
• Pray faithfully. Lift up the brokenhearted when they cannot lift themselves.

“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2)

Healing after murder, suicide, or reckless loss of life is not quick. Survivors wrestle with guilt, anger, abandonment, and unrelenting grief. Children especially may silently carry the weight of questions they cannot voice.

• Encourage professional and pastoral care—healing often requires both.
• Create safe spaces for grief. Give permission to cry, to question, and to lament before God.
• Remind them of their worth. The tragedy does not define their identity—Christ does.
• Build rituals of remembrance. Writing letters, lighting candles, or sharing stories can bring peace.
• Allow time. Trauma healing cannot be rushed. Give people space to process without pressure.

Suicide often gives warning signs:

• Expressions of hopelessness or feeling like a burden
• Withdrawal from relationships and activities
• Sudden mood shifts—either sinking despair or an eerie calm
• Giving away possessions or speaking of “final” arrangements

When we notice these signs, we must act. Ask gently but directly: “Are you thinking about hurting yourself?” Offer to connect them with professional help, a pastor, or a crisis line. Do not dismiss their pain. Showing someone that they are seen and valued can make the difference between life and death.

A weekend on the lake should never have ended in tragedy. But even in the shadow of despair and senseless loss, God’s light still shines. He is the One who turns mourning into dancing, who gives beauty for ashes, and who promises a day when death and sorrow will be no more.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:4)

Our role, as His people, is to stand with the broken, to speak life where death has shouted, and to remind our hurting world that there is hope in Christ.

Because even when joy turns suddenly into tragedy, even when the monster of despair breaks loose, His promise remains: light still overcomes darkness.

Resources for Hope and Help

If you or someone you love is struggling with thoughts of suicide, please know that you are not alone. Help is available—right now.

• National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (U.S.): Dial 988 (24/7, confidential, free)
• Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 to connect with a trained counselor
• Pastoral and Faith-Based Support: Reach out to your local church, pastor, or Christian counselor who can pray with you and walk alongside you.  https://www.loveled.org
• For children and teens: The 988 Lifeline also connects to youth-specific crisis counselors trained to respond with understanding

Above all, remember: God sees you. He loves you. Your life has purpose and worth beyond what you can imagine.

Finding Strength in Stress: How Faith Builds Resilience

Stress is an unavoidable part of life. It comes in many forms, some that challenge us to grow and others that feel overwhelming. Stress itself is not inherently bad—it can motivate us to take action when we might otherwise remain stagnant. This type of positive stress (eustress) can encourage us to step out in faith, learn new skills, and persevere. However, negative stress (distress), when left unmanaged, can lead to anxiety, despair, and a sense of hopelessness. The Bible reminds us in James 1:2-4, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” God does not promise us a life without struggles, but He does promise to walk with us through them, shaping us into stronger, more faithful people.

Stress can arise from multiple sources—some within our control and others beyond it. Personal and household stress can come from poor lifestyle choices such as substance abuse and unhealthy relationships, as well as family struggles like divorce, mental illness, and domestic abuse. Additionally, neglect and trauma, whether emotional, physical, or sexual, can create a heavy burden on an individual. Beyond the home, community and environmental stressors add to life’s difficulties. Economic hardships, such as job loss and poor housing conditions, can place a strain on individuals and families. Social challenges like discrimination and violence create additional stress, while natural disasters—wildfires, earthquakes, floods, and pandemics—bring unforeseen crises. On a global scale, conflicts and wars result in unimaginable suffering. While these stressors may seem insurmountable, we are not left defenseless. God gives us the tools to navigate these difficulties with faith, resilience, and purpose.

Resilience is our ability to bounce back from adversity, and faith plays a crucial role in developing that strength. Psalm 46:1 tells us, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” When we feel burdened by stress, we can lean on Him for comfort and guidance. Philippians 4:13 reminds us, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” No matter what challenges we face, we are never alone—Christ equips us to endure and overcome. Through prayer and time in God’s Word, we align our hearts with His purpose. Romans 8:28 assures us, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him.” Even in hardship, God is working behind the scenes for our ultimate good.

Faith is not passive—it calls us to take action in how we handle stress. One key way to develop resilience is by relying on community support. We are not meant to face struggles alone. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 says, “Two are better than one… If either of them falls down, one can help the other up.” Surrounding ourselves with faith-filled relationships provides encouragement, wisdom, and strength. Another critical aspect of resilience is controlling our responses. While we cannot always control our circumstances, we can control how we react. 2 Timothy 1:7 declares, “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power, love, and self-discipline.” When faced with stress, we can choose faith over fear. Additionally, embracing problem-solving and adaptability is essential. The Bible is full of examples of individuals who adapted in times of crisis. Consider Joseph in Egypt—what his brothers intended for evil, God used for good (Genesis 50:20). Like Joseph, we must remain open to new solutions, trusting that God is guiding us. Lastly, resilience is not just about personal survival; it is about helping others along the way. Galatians 6:2 urges us, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way, you fulfill the law of Christ.” Acts of service not only ease others’ stress but also strengthen our own faith and sense of purpose.

Stress is inevitable, but through faith, we can navigate life’s difficulties with confidence and hope. God has given us the strength, wisdom, and community we need to overcome. If you are struggling with overwhelming stress today, take heart—God is with you. Seek His presence, lean on your community, and take small, faithful steps forward. As Isaiah 41:10 reminds us, “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Difficulties will come, but they do not have to define us. When we turn to God, He transforms our trials into testimonies, our burdens into blessings, and our weaknesses into strength. No matter what storms you face, stand firm in the knowledge that you are deeply loved, guided, and equipped for victory. Let your faith be your anchor, your resilience be your testimony, and your life be a light for others who are struggling. You are never alone—God is always with you, leading you toward peace, purpose, and hope.

Clearing the Clogs: Overcoming Fear with God’s Truth

Not long ago, we faced a frustrating situation—our sewer pipe got clogged. After some investigation, we discovered the culprit: a stubborn root had grown into the pipe, blocking the flow of water. As I reflected on this, I realized how much this mirrors the way fear from past experiences can creep into our minds, slowly restricting the flow of God’s peace and truth in our lives. Even when we know that God is in control and that He loves us, old fears have a way of resurfacing, holding us hostage in ways we don’t always recognize.

Fear often takes root subtly, just like that small root in our pipe. It starts with a past failure, a painful memory, or a lingering doubt. Over time, these fears can grow, wrapping around our thoughts until they restrict the way we think and live. Instead of walking confidently in God’s promises, we hesitate, feeling trapped by what we’ve been through. Isaiah 41:10 reminds us, “Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” Yet, despite knowing this, we often allow fear to dictate our decisions, just as a blocked pipe prevents water from flowing freely.

But here’s the good news: God has given us the power to clear out these spiritual clogs. 2 Timothy 1:7 tells us, “For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.” Fear is not from God, and when we recognize that, we can begin the process of removing it. Just as a plumber must identify the blockage in a pipe before clearing it, we must recognize the fears and lies that are restricting our faith. Are we afraid of failure? Rejection? Disappointment? Whatever it is, we can bring it to God, trusting that He has already provided the strength we need to overcome it.

One of the most effective ways to break free from fear is through prayer. Philippians 4:6-7 encourages us, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” When we surrender our fears to God, His peace flows in like a rushing stream, clearing out the blockages that anxiety and worry create.

However, it’s not just about removing fear—it’s about replacing it with truth. Romans 12:2 tells us, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind.” Just as a pipe must be kept clear to function properly, our minds need to be regularly renewed by God’s Word. The more we fill our hearts with His truth, the less room there is for fear to take root.

Letting go of fear is not always a one-time fix—it’s a daily process of surrendering to God and allowing Him to work in us. Hebrews 12:1 urges us to “lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.” Fear is a weight that slows us down, but when we cast it off, we can move forward in faith and confidence. And the best part? John 8:32 reminds us, “Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” The truth is that God is bigger than our fears, stronger than our past, and fully in control of our future.

So, just as we had to remove that stubborn root to restore the flow in our pipe, we must also remove the roots of fear that block our faith. When we do, God’s love, peace, and truth can flow freely in our lives, filling us with confidence and joy. Whatever fears are holding you back today, take them to God—He’s ready to clear them out and set you free.