What Obedience Looks Like After You’ve Surrendered to God

After surrender comes a choice: to trust God not just with the letting go—but with the next step.

Obedience isn’t always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it’s quiet. Hidden. It looks like showing up when you don’t have the full picture. Saying “yes” without knowing the outcome. Obedience after surrender is where your faith starts walking.

I’ve learned that surrender doesn’t mean passivity—it prepares your heart to respond. It clears the clutter so you can actually hear God and move when He speaks.

And sometimes, obedience is costly:

• It’s letting go of a relationship you once prayed for.

• It’s walking away from a job you’ve outgrown—even when it doesn’t make “sense.”

• It’s continuing to build what He told you to start, even when progress feels slow.

Obedience won’t always come with clarity. But it always carries purpose.

Even when obedience feels risky or uncomfortable, it’s rooted in something deeper: trust. Trust that He’s still writing the story. Trust that He’s not leading you into confusion, but into alignment—step by step.

You don’t have to feel “ready.” You just have to be willing.

A New Level of Surrender

Yesterday, I reflected on how discernment flows from identity—how knowing who I am in Christ shapes how I see, choose, and wait. But with that clarity comes another invitation: surrender. Once God begins to show us who we truly are, He also begins to gently ask us to let go of who we no longer need to be.

And that’s where Day 5 meets me—at a new level of surrender.

Lately, God has been leading me into a deeper place of surrender. Not the kind that happens all at once, but the kind that unfolds step by step—layer by layer. Surrender isn’t always instant. Sometimes it’s a slow release. Sometimes it looks like letting go piece by piece, as God strengthens our hearts and deepens our trust in Him. I’ve realized He doesn’t force surrender from us—He invites us into it. And He gives us the grace to walk it out, even when we don’t fully understand what He’s doing. His pace is kind. His process is patient.

There are still things I don’t have answers for. Promises I believe in, but don’t yet see. Questions I’ve laid at His feet, and silence I’ve learned to sit with. But even in the unknown, He is teaching me that peace doesn’t come from having clarity—it comes from having Him. And the more I surrender, the more I sense Him making room in my heart for what’s new. I don’t have to hold everything together. I don’t have to figure it all out. I just have to keep saying “yes,” one day at a time.

Surrender isn’t weakness—it’s worship. And it’s where the real transformation begins.

Discernment Flows from Identity

When you truly know who you are in Jesus, it changes everything—including how you see relationships.

The more grounded I become in Christ, the more clearly I begin to recognize what’s not from Him. It’s not about fault-finding, judgement, or bitterness. It’s about spiritual clarity.

To be honest, it took me years to understand the value of discernment and boundaries because I’m naturally someone who sees the best in people. I love hard. I extend grace quickly. And for a long time, I confused niceness with godliness-thinking that saying “yes” and staying quiet, or making excuses for people was somehow the right thing to do. But, God in His mercy began to show me that discernment IS a form of love—not just for others, but for myself and for the work He is doing within me.

There have been relationships I deeply cherished and prayed for, people I wanted to believe the best about. But the Holy Spirit gently opened my eyes—not to expose them, but to protect me. When your identity is rooted in Christ, He gives you the wisdom to recognize what’s healthy, what’s harmful, and what no longer aligns with His plan for your life.

I had to learn that:

• Love doesn’t always mean unlimited access.

• Kindness doesn’t mean tolerating dysfunction.

• Peace doesn’t come from avoiding hard truths—it comes from walking in them.

God showed me that it’s possible to be full of grace and still carry boundaries. To forgive without enabling. To hope for someone’s healing without letting their brokenness distort mine. This kind of discernment only flows from intimacy with Jesus—when His voice becomes louder than guilt, people-pleasing, or fear of being misunderstood.

God has shown me that it’s possible to see someone’s brokenness without becoming responsible for it. To forgive without enabling. To be kind and still say, “This far, and no more.” This kind of discernment only flows from intimacy with Jesus—when His voice becomes louder than your own emotions.

If you’re in a season where God is opening your eyes, don’t resist it. It’s not rejection. It’s redirection. He is trying to protect the person you are becoming. He is strengthening you.

You are His.

And because you are His, you are worth protecting.

Becoming While Waiting-Rediscovering my Identity in Christ

Waiting is not a pause in God’s plan- it’s a part of it. Somewhere in the quiet of unfulfilled prayers & longings, I realized that I wasn’t just waiting on a promise- I was being transformed by the Promiser.

For a long time, I rooted my identity in milestones. I quietly believed that marital status, career success, independency, degree status, appearance, and approval- somehow affirmed my worth. Sounds a bit silly, right? But, God, in His kindness gently shown me that those things, while good, were never meant to define me. They were additions-not my source, not my anchor, not my foundation.

While in the waiting room of life, God has been reintroducing me to myself. Introducing the daughter He formed by His hands. I’m learning that being hidden doesn’t mean being forgotten. Sometimes, God hidesvus to heal us. To remind us that before anything to anyone else, we are His.

This season isn’t just about receiving what I long for- it’s about becoming the woman who can carry it. The womans who knows who she is in the silence without reassurance from the world, who worships in the valley, and who trusts even when the outcome is unclear.

I’m not defined by a season of waiting or by the dreams in my heart. I’m defined by who I belong to. And I belong to Christ.

The deeper I grow in intimacy with Him, the clearer it becomes. Everything else is temporary. Everything else is fleeting. But, He remains. His voice, His love, His truth, His presence. That’s what holds me steady when nothing else in this world makes sense.

I am not what I do.

I am not what I’ve lost.

I am not what I long for.

I am His.

And that—

that is more than ENOUGH.

Waiting Well- Trusting God in the Waiting Room

After sharing how God so tenderly met me in my brokenness, I find myself now in a season that feels equally sacred—yet in a very different way. It’s a season not marked by movement, but by stillness. A season of waiting.

This waiting isn’t passive. It’s not sitting back hoping something will happen. It’s an active trust. A daily laying down of my own timeline and agenda to believe that what God promised will come to pass—in His way, and in His time.

I’ll be honest… this season has stretched me. Singleness, after experiencing love and loss, is no easy path. When your heart has loved deeply and been marked by both joy and pain, the silence in the waiting can feel loud so to speak. But I’ve learned something beautiful in this place: God is in the waiting.

He’s not just preparing what’s ahead—He’s preparing me. He’s pruning my heart, refining my character, softening me where I’ve been hardened, and strengthening me in areas I never knew were weak. He’s allowing me to unlearn unhealthy patterns and mindsets that have been rooted deep within.

The truth is… I’m not just waiting for something. I’m waiting with Someone. God’s presence has become my anchor. His whispers in the quiet moments have become my reassurance. He hasn’t forgotten the promises He’s made—He’s simply perfecting the timing.

If you’re in a similar season—feeling the ache of waiting or the discomfort of surrender—I want to speak life into you today. God sees your heart. He knows the quiet tears, the inner wrestle with trust, the longing to hold something He’s spoken over your life. And He is faithful.

The waiting room isn’t punishment. It’s preparation. And the blessing that comes on the other side of surrender is worth it all.

So for now… I’ll be here—waiting well, trusting fully, and walking closely with the One who writes the most beautiful endings.

How God Met Me in the Middle of My Brokeness

It all began in 2022, after a painful breakup with someone I deeply loved. I found myself sitting in the bathtub, knees pulled to my chest, arms wrapped tightly around my legs—rocking back and forth like a little girl who had just lost her way. Tears streamed down my face as I cried out to the Lord, overwhelmed by heartbreak, confusion, and anger.

I felt vulnerable. Lost. And honestly—I was angry with God.

That’s when I began questioning everything about my life. (Here is a little backstory) For most of my life, I had only known one man. We met when I was just 12 years old, got married by time I was 21, and had a beautiful son together. But by the time my son was three, (2019) I found myself facing betrayal and divorce. Thirteen years… gone. I fought hard to save that marriage, but in the end, it was taken from me.

During that time of divorce, I cried out to God, He gave me one phrase: “Dust your feet off.”

There was no forcing someone to stay.

Not long after my divorce, I found myself falling in love again. But the truth is—my heart wasn’t ready. I was guarded, wounded, and unknowingly damaging something (and someone) precious. I had compromised. I had fallen into the world’s standards. I was out of alignment with God.

And so there I was - in the bathtub. Broken.

“Why, God?” I asked through tears. “Why the divorce? Why the pain? And now- why did I hurt someone I truly love? Am I even called to be a wife?”

That’s when God gently whispered to my heart: “Proverbs 31:10.”

I didn’t even know if that verse existed. At the time, I was still new in my walk with Christ. I brushed it off, frustrated and emotionally drained. I didn’t want another Bible verse. I just wanted the man I had hurt. I longed for his laugh, his love, his presence—for everything to just go back to normal.

But something stirred in me. After my bath, I hesitantly opened my Bible—“just to see.”

And there it was: the heading of the passage read “The Virtuous Wife.”

I broke.

That was my confirmation. A whisper from Heaven. A divine reminder:

I was called to be a wife.