A New Chapter Begins: Found by the One Who Sees

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post called “When the Weight Feels Like Too Much.”

It was one of the most-read pieces I’ve ever shared—not because it was tidy or polished, but because it was honest.

I talked about the burdens I’d been carrying. The ones I kept giving to God and picking back up again. The ones that made me freeze, spiral, and question if I was strong enough—or faithful enough—to keep going.

And maybe what surprised me most was how many of you quietly whispered, “Me too.”

What Changed

Since that post, something has shifted in me.

Not in a flashy, fix-it kind of way. But in a deep, quiet, soul-level way.

In late July, I drove the hour to Charlotte for the She Speaks Conference—something I’ve done for years. But this time felt different. I was exhausted. Empty. Still wondering if the calling I carry is even still mine.

And then, somewhere between the first worship set and the hallway conversations, I remembered:

I’m not doing this for platform.
I’m not doing this to perform.
I’m doing this because I believe God still meets women in the messy middle of their story.

And I want to be a voice that meets them there, too.

I had one moment—standing outside the ballroom before a session—where I just closed my eyes and breathed deep. And I thought, “This is the only place I visit all year where I really feel alive.”

But it was more than that.

This year, I felt something I’ve never fully claimed before: I belong.

I owned my identity.
I stood in my message.
I stepped into my body with freedom, no longer shrinking to fit anyone’s expectations.
And for the first time, I felt fully present as the voice God called me to be—for His message.

Before That, I Struggled

Even before the conference began, I wrestled.

For years, I’ve walked into rooms like this with a quiet ache I couldn’t name. I’d shrink back—not because I wasn’t called, but because I wasn’t sure I was allowed to step forward. I stayed quiet when something in me longed to speak.

A few days before the conference started, I said something out loud I’d never dared to say before—something that exposed the way I’d been seeing myself. It hurt to hear it in my own voice. But it also helped me see the lie clearer than I ever had.

And right then, I denied the enemy access to my heart.

I took the thought captive.
I told the truth.
And I clung to it—for the whole week.

That decision—to name the lie and hold onto what was real—changed everything. It became the doorway to a completely different experience.

Jesus Found Me There

In the days after She Speaks, I’ve been sitting with a single verse that won’t let me go:

“Jesus heard that they had thrown him out, and when He found him…”
—John 9:35 (NIV)

It’s a quiet line. Easy to miss. But it tells us everything about the heart of Jesus.

The man had just been healed—his eyes opened for the first time in his life. But then he was thrown out for telling the truth. Rejected. Misunderstood. Cast aside by the very people who should’ve celebrated with him.

But Jesus wasn’t finished.

He went looking.
He found the man again.
Not just to celebrate the miracle—but to invite him into relationship.
Not just to restore his sight—but to offer spiritual vision, too.

And as I’ve reflected on what happened in me that weekend—the identity I claimed, the lies I laid down, the quiet ache I didn’t know I was still carrying—I realized:

That story felt like my story.

Because I’ve had moments—especially in ministry spaces—where I’ve felt misunderstood or unseen.
Moments where my yes to Jesus cost me more than I anticipated.
Moments when I didn’t know if I really belonged.

But even here—after all of it—I can say this with certainty:

Jesus found me.

Not in the spotlight.
Not in the crowd.
But in the stillness after.

In the quiet processing.
In the truth I couldn’t un-hear.
In the place where I questioned, and He answered.

And just like He did in John 9, He didn’t just offer comfort—He offered a question:

“Do you believe?”

Not “Do you feel strong?”
Not “Do you have it all figured out?”
Just—“Do you believe?”

And I do.
I believe He sees.
I believe He still finds.
And I believe He’s not done.

Welcome, Sister. You Belong Here.

I say that with tears in my eyes.

Because for so long, I didn’t know if I still belonged either.

But here’s what I’ve come to believe:
God doesn’t discard us when we feel too far gone.
He draws nearer.
He walks the long road with us.
And He doesn’t ask us to fix ourselves first.

He simply says, Come.

So welcome.
You’re safe here.
You don’t have to clean up your story to sit at the table.
You don’t have to hide the messy middle.
You don’t even have to know what healing looks like yet.

You just have to show up.

What’s Next

This space—my blog, my writing, my ministry—isn’t changing dramatically.
But it is stepping into something more intentional.

Here’s what to expect moving forward:

• Monthly blog posts that speak to the woman in the in-between
• Honest stories and gospel-rich encouragement through my email list
• A podcast relaunch this fall focused on healing, identity, and hope
• And yes… a book that’s slowly growing, chapter by chapter, called Still Looking for Good

You’re Not Too Late for What God Is Doing Next

Maybe today isn’t your turning point.
Maybe you’re still carrying more weight than you know how to set down.

But friend, you are not too late.
You are not too much.
You are not alone.

Let’s Talk:

What’s one thing you’re ready to let go of?
Or one thing you’re stepping into—even if it scares you?

You don’t have to explain it all.
Just drop a word, a sentence, a prayer in the comments—and I’ll pray over every reply.

Or whisper it to the Lord if that’s all you can do today.

Either way… I’m with you.

Let’s walk forward together—one surrendered step at a time.

With grace for the journey,
Regina