The last few days have been really hard.

Coming through the desert made me question my decision to take this trip. Being alone felt so much more overwhelming while driving through the Mojave and looking out on nothing but vastness. There was no shade, no comfort—just mile after mile of dry silence. It left me wrestling with the weight of solitude.

But the other day, everything shifted. I saw a man.

He was walking down the road with several bags strapped to his back and a tarp draped over him and his belongings. His head hung low. Each step was heavy, worn, burdened. My heart broke.

Here I was—nervous about driving through the desert in a car, with a full tank of gas, ten gallons of water, and food to spare—while this man walked through it all alone, carrying the full weight of his life on his shoulders.

My heart begged me to stop and help him. But my mind cried louder: You’re a woman traveling alone… there’s no room in the car… what if it’s dangerous? And my brain won. I drove on, but I cried so hard. I begged God to protect him. I prayed He would send angels to lighten the man’s load. And I prayed that God would send a man—one who would stop, offer him a ride, and share the Gospel with him. I’ll never know what happened to him on this side of Heaven.

But the image of that man won’t leave me. The image of the physical burden this man was under looked like many of us do spiritually and emotionally today.

We carry bags of regret from the past… the weight of anxiety for the future… and the ever-pressing list of things that demand our attention today. But Jesus speaks directly to that kind of burden:

“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.”
—Matthew 6:34 (NKJV)

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain you; He shall never permit the righteous to be moved.”
—Psalm 55:22 (NKJV)

He calls us to repentance so we no longer have to carry the guilt of our past:

“Repent therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord.”
—Acts 3:19 (NKJV)

He urges us to forgive, because forgiveness isn’t just about the other person—it sets our hearts free:

“And be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God in Christ forgave you.”
—Ephesians 4:32 (NKJV)

“For if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you.”
—Matthew 6:14 (NKJV)

And He invites us to trade our heavy loads for His rest:

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
—Matthew 11:28 (NKJV)

To most, this trip might look like an extended vacation, full of adventure and scenic beauty. But in reality, it has been a pilgrimage—a slow tearing down of sinful strongholds in my life. For every time I’ve stood in awe of God’s creation, there have been even more times I’ve sat in tears, broken as God exposed parts of my heart that needed healing.

This journey is not about escape—it’s about developing courageous faith. The kind of faith I hope defines the rest of my life.

So many times, I’ve walked the line between breakdown and breakthrough. And each time, I think of Job. Satan believed he could shatter Job’s faith and make him curse God. And though Job cried out in his suffering, he never turned away. He endured. He broke through—because we serve a God who is trustworthy, steadfast, and present, even in the hardest places.

“Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him. Even so, I will defend my own ways before Him.”
—Job 13:15 (NKJV)

“Indeed we count them blessed who endure. You have heard of the perseverance of Job and seen the end intended by the Lord—that the Lord is very compassionate and merciful.”
—James 5:11 (NKJV)

I want to live like that. Not with perfect strength, but with a heart that clings to the One who never lets go.

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Reflection Question:

What burdens have you been carrying that God is inviting you to lay down today?

Closing Prayer:

Lord, thank You for seeing me in my weakness. Thank You for never turning away, even when I’m overwhelmed or afraid. Help me release the burdens I was never meant to carry—my past regrets, my fear of the future, and the anxiety of today. Teach me to walk in courageous faith, trusting that You are with me even in the desert. Use these moments to shape me, break strongholds, and draw me closer to You. In Jesus’ name, amen.