Adjusting to city life is like learning to drive a stick shift—awkward at first, but eventually, you figure out the rhythm. There are definite perks to apartment living. For example, when my blinds refused to cooperate the other day, I didn’t have to pretend I knew what I was doing with a toolbox. Nope. I simply called maintenance, and voilà! A guy showed up, fixed them, and left, all without me having to lift a finger. That, my friends, is the height of luxury.
However, there is one thing my apartment lacks: a yard. No grass, no open space—just a balcony that screams, “Congratulations, you now own 12 square feet of the great outdoors!” But I refused to be defeated. I scoured Amazon and found a deal on some fake grass tiles. Click, buy, deliver. A few days later, I had my own lush, green (plastic) oasis right on my balcony. And the best part? No mowing, no watering, and no fear of stepping barefoot onto something nature never intended.
But then, the weather decided to remind me who’s boss. It’s storm and tornado season in this fine part of the U.S. of A., and last night, the wind roared through the city like it was auditioning for a role in Twister 2. As the gusts howled, I suddenly realized my “yard” wasn’t exactly anchored to the earth. A troubling vision struck me: my beloved fake grass tiles taking flight like a flock of synthetic geese, scattering across the street, while I, clad in pajamas and wild hair that might indicate questionable life choices, scrambled downstairs in the middle of a tornado warning to reclaim my backyard.
Thankfully, the tiles stayed put. This time. But now, I have a new fear to add to my list—losing my entire lawn to a particularly aggressive gust of wind. Turns out, even maintenance-free grass has its downsides.
There are times when fake is perfectly acceptable—sometimes even preferable. I’ve got fake grass tiles creating the illusion of a lush little yard. My nails? Also fake, because let’s be honest, they look way better than my natural ones ever could. And for those who enjoy a little luxury on a budget, a knockoff Rolex or a designer-inspired handbag can do the trick without breaking the bank.
But when it comes to God, an imitation will never suffice. There’s no substitute, no convincing replica, no close second. Nothing in existence can even begin to resemble the real thing. God is the real deal—unchanging, unmatched, and impossible to duplicate.
Humanity will grasp at anything to fill the emptiness in our hearts. We chase after money, hoping it will buy happiness. We turn to a variety of endless vices, searching for escape. We crave approval, obsess over attractiveness, and scroll endlessly through social media, convincing ourselves that validation lies just one more like or comment away.
But no matter how tightly we cling to these things, they never quite settle in the soul the way we expect. Because when the storms of life come rushing in—when hardship, heartbreak, or loss blow through—these flimsy substitutes scatter like my balcony tiles in the wind, leaving us right back where we started.
If you want to stay firmly grounded in what’s real—strong enough to withstand the storms life throws your way, whether it’s the loss of a loved one, the heartbreak of divorce, the devastation of financial ruin, or any of the countless trials that come with being human—here are a few essential truths to hold onto.
1. Healing Is Often A Slow Miracle
When you’re walking through the storms of life, remember that healing and freedom don’t always come in an instant. Sometimes, God works in steps, peeling back layers of pain, reshaping your heart, and teaching you lessons along the way. The process may feel long, even frustrating, but trust that He is working in ways you can’t always see. You can’t rush His timing, but you can remain faithful—praying, trusting, and holding onto the truth that God is still a God of miracles, no matter how long the journey takes.
Healing from my divorce has been a slow, unfolding miracle—one that has tested my patience and my faith in ways I never expected. The pain and anxiety had a way of dragging me back, forcing me to relive the worst moments over and over again, like a cruel loop I couldn’t escape. My mind became a battleground of “what ifs” and unanswered questions. What if we had done this differently? What if I hadn’t said that? Why did he make that choice? I searched desperately for an alternate ending, one that never existed, replaying every detail as if I could rewrite the past.
Night after night, sleep slipped through my fingers. Day after day, I carried the weight of it, exhausted from a battle I fought entirely within my own mind. Healing didn’t come all at once. It came in slow, quiet moments and choices—through prayers whispered in the dark, through tears that eventually ran dry, and through the steady realization that no amount of revisiting the past would ever change it.
I also had to learn to extend grace to myself. Healing isn’t a straight path, and it certainly isn’t a test of endurance where I either pass or fail. Some days, I felt strong, full of hope, ready to move forward. Other days, I felt like I was drowning in grief, wondering if I’d ever feel whole again. And that’s okay. God never expected me to have it all together. He wasn’t measuring my progress against some invisible timeline. He simply asked me to keep trusting Him, even on the days when I felt like I was falling apart.
My balcony tiles, those little patches of fake grass, had no roots to hold them down, and when the winds howled through, they had nothing to stop them from scattering like leaves in a storm. But God is doing the opposite in me—He’s planting something real, something lasting. With every step of healing, He’s growing roots deep within my soul, anchoring me in His truth, in His presence, in His love.
And that’s what He wants for all of us—not a surface-level faith that lifts away the moment hardship strikes, but a deeply rooted relationship with Him, one that holds firm no matter how fierce the winds may blow.
2. Roots Must Develop First
Have you ever watched a towering oak tree stand firm during a raging storm? These trees can live for hundreds of years, their massive branches stretching toward the sky, unshaken by the wind. But what makes them so strong isn’t just what you see above the ground—it’s what’s hidden beneath.
Oak trees are known for their deep, intricate root systems that anchor them securely in the earth, allowing them to survive droughts, storms, and shifting seasons. But here’s something remarkable: before they ever produce a single acorn, they spend 20 to 30 years growing and establishing their roots. That’s right—decades pass before any fruit appears. While their growth may seem slow to the outside world, beneath the surface, something powerful is happening. They are building a foundation strong enough to sustain them for centuries—some living between 600 to 1,000 years.
Their resilience isn’t an accident. It’s a result of the time and patience it took to grow deep roots before anything visible took shape. The tree had to be established before it could bear fruit.
In the same way, don’t get discouraged if your spiritual life doesn’t appear “successful” by outward standards. Growth isn’t always flashy. Sometimes, it’s quiet, slow, and unseen—happening deep within the soul, where God is strengthening and preparing you. The hardest seasons, the ones that feel like nothing is happening, are often the very moments when God is planting the deepest roots. And just like the oak, in time, you’ll bear fruit—but only after the foundation is strong enough to hold it.
Think about my fake grass tiles. They’re vibrant, perfectly green, and effortless to maintain. They never need watering, never grow weeds, and always look pristine. But here’s the thing—they’re not real. They’ve never pushed roots into the earth, never drawn life from the soil, never endured a single season of growth. So when the wind comes roaring through, they don’t stand a chance. They lift, scatter, and disappear like they were never there at all. And by the way, they can't produce fruit.
We can be the same way. We can show up to church every Sunday, say all the right things, and flash the biggest, most convincing smile. On the surface, it looks good—polished, effortless, put together. But if our faith is only for show, if it’s never been rooted deep, it won’t sustain us. When the storms of life hit, a plastic, surface-level faith won’t hold. It won’t keep us steady. It won’t heal our wounds.
Real faith, the kind that lasts, isn’t about looking the part—it’s about being deeply anchored in God. It’s about trusting Him in the unseen, in the struggles, in the waiting. Because only faith that has taken root will stand firm when the winds begin to blow.
3. We Need To Be In God's Presence.
Divorce in particular has a way of cracking open a door that temptation is all too eager to slip through. Rejection always does. It whispers lies, offering easy exits and quick fixes to numb the pain. It tells us there’s a way to outrun the heartbreak, a way to silence the ache without ever having to face it.
The temptation comes in many forms. The urge to rush into a relationship with someone—anyone—just to fill the empty space where love used to be. The pull toward substances we never would have considered before, just to dull the weight of reality. The quiet compromise of our values, our boundaries—our very selves—just to feel wanted again. The endless distractions we pile on, keeping our hands busy and our minds preoccupied, hoping that if we just keep moving, we won’t have to feel the depth of our loss.
And that’s exactly how the enemy works. In times of distress, his greatest tactic is to convince us that anywhere is better than the presence of God. That staying where we are—sitting with our grief, waiting on healing, trusting in a slow miracle—is unbearable. That we need something else, something faster, something to make us feel better right now. He whispers that relief is just one impulsive decision away.
Feeling restless? Maybe a new job, a new city, a new relationship will fix it. Feeling empty? Chase the next thrill, the next distraction, anything to fill the void. Feeling pain? Numb it. Escape it. Avoid it at all costs. Do whatever it takes to sidestep the discomfort, to avoid pressing into God, because surely, anywhere is better than waiting in His presence… right?
That’s the lie. And it’s a convincing one. Because when we’re hurting, the last thing we want to do is sit still and trust. But no quick fix, no counterfeit comfort, no temporary relief will ever bring real healing. They only delay it. The only One who can truly restore, truly mend, and truly redeem our brokenness is the Lord Himself. His presence isn’t just a place to endure the pain—it’s the only place where true healing begins.
I don’t know about you, but I’d rather face the heartache head-on and let it shape me into something stronger. Let it do its work. Let it dig deep and grow roots that will hold steady, even if that growth is painfully slow. Even if it takes years before I see any fruit, at least I’ll know I’ve started down the road to real healing.
If the beginning is slow, so be it. If it takes time—more time than I want—so be it. Because five years from now, I can either find myself stuck in the same place, circling the same pain, grasping for the same empty comforts, or I can look back and see how far I’ve come. I can see roots that have pushed deeper, strength that has multiplied, and faith that has held firm through every storm. The choice isn’t in how fast the healing comes.
The choice is in whether I let it take root at all.
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