Remember that moment when you caught your reflection unexpectedly – maybe in a store window or your bathroom mirror – and all you could see were the flaws?
Encouragement for the Waiting Soul: In the Spirit of the 40 Days After Easter
Dear Friends,
Sometimes, clarity doesn’t come quickly. Sometimes, the best we can offer is “not yet,” “I’m still listening,” or simply, “Lord, help me wait.” If that’s where you are today, you’re not alone—and you’re not outside the reach of God’s presence.
We are currently living in the 40 days after Easter, a sacred season often overlooked, yet deeply meaningful. After Jesus rose from the dead, He didn’t immediately ascend to heaven. Instead, He spent forty days appearing to His disciples and followers—many of whom were hiding, doubting, grieving, or simply confused about what would come next.
“After his suffering, he presented himself to them and gave many convincing proofs that he was alive. He appeared to them over a period of forty days and spoke about the kingdom of God.”
—Acts 1:3 (NIV)
In this post-resurrection season, Jesus didn’t rebuke their fear or demand instant faith. He met them where they were—with peace, presence, and promise. He broke bread with them, walked alongside them in their sadness (Luke 24:13–35), and spoke directly to their doubts (John 20:24–29). He reminded them of everything He had taught—and more importantly, what was coming: the gift of the Holy Spirit.
“I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.”
—Luke 24:49 (NIV)
“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses…”
—Acts 1:8 (NIV)
So if you find yourself in a space of uncertainty—between what has been and what is yet to come—know that you are standing in sacred ground. These forty days were meant for waiting, for rebuilding faith, and for recognizing the risen Christ in new ways.
“Peace be with you.”
—John 20:19 (NIV)
These are the same words Jesus offered when He stepped into locked rooms filled with fear. They are the same words He speaks to us now, in our own rooms of hesitation, limitation, or holy unrest.
Even when we feel like we don’t have the strength, God does:
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
—2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)
And even when we don’t know what to do, the Spirit intercedes for us:
“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness... the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”
—Romans 8:26 (NIV)
You don’t need to have it all figured out. Jesus meets us where we are—not in our perfection or productivity, but in our surrender and honesty. Sometimes the most faithful response isn’t a bold “yes” or “no,” but a quiet, prayerful “I’m listening.”
So today, may you find peace in the waiting. May you extend to yourself the same grace and compassion that you would offer to others. And may you remember that the same Jesus who appeared to His followers in their fear is still showing up for us—empowering us with His Spirit, filling the space between questions with presence, and preparing our hearts for what’s ahead.
Subject: From One Journeyer to Another – A Heartfelt Note
Mike,
I read your recent message and deeply appreciate the vulnerability and insight you shared. Your reflections on receiving compassion, letting go of performance, and making space for healing really resonate with me—especially in this season of my life.
That said, I want to share something from my heart. A little while ago, I reached out to you, hoping you might consider reviewing my new book. I saw you as a spiritual leader who might understand the spirit behind what I’ve written—someone who could offer guidance or even just a word of encouragement. When I didn’t hear back, I was left sitting with silence, wondering if my voice mattered.
It’s hard to reconcile the public invitation to share struggles and receive compassion with the private absence of response. It’s not bitterness I’m coming with, just honesty—because, like you said, naming the struggle can be a step toward healing.
I still believe in the message of grace and connection. If there’s room now, I’d still be honored to share the book with you. Either way, thank you for your authenticity, and may the same compassion you’re learning to receive continue to shape your ministry and relationships.
Thank you for your note and for connecting with my meditation on compassion and healing. I appreciate your kind words about my recent post.
Regarding your book request, I did receive your email where you stated: "I would love to invite you to pray over it, possibly explore partnership opportunities if the Lord leads you to connect with it." I've been honoring that request and prayerfully considering it as you suggested. I apologize for not responding sooner, but I didn't realize that you were pressed for time or needed an answer within a set amount of days. My fault for not realizing that.
Background: I am a father of two adult sons who have severe special needs, my situation is quite demanding. My boys require round-the-clock supervision and care, meaning someone must always be present with them. This reality significantly limits my time and capacity for taking on additional commitments.
I mentioned earlier that I've been seeking the Lord's guidance on this matter as you requested, but I don't feel I've received clear direction yet regarding a connection with your work. If you need an answer today, then I must respectfully decline with "no thank you." This isn't a reflection on your book's value or your voice as an author, but simply the constraints of my caregiving responsibilities and my current sense of spiritual direction.
Wishing you all the best with your book and hope it reaches the audience it's meant for.
Thank you for your deeply thoughtful response. I receive it with respect and appreciation, especially knowing the immense love and responsibility you carry daily as a father and caregiver. That kind of sacrificial commitment speaks volumes, and I honor the space you're in.
As I sat with your message again with your beautiful meditation on compassion and healing, trying to make sense of it all, the Holy Spirit stirred up in me. I was moved by how powerfully you wrote about receiving Jesus’ unconditional love—not because of what we do or how well we perform, but simply because we are seen and loved by Him. You reminded us that the places we try to hide, the ones shaped by exhaustion, limitations, or uncertainty, are often the very spaces where Jesus meets us with tenderness.
Reading your meditation again alongside your message to me, I noticed a quiet contrast. On one hand, your reflection speaks boldly of a God who meets us in our weakness—not when we have capacity or clarity, but even in the ambiguity of waiting. Yet, in your reply about the book, it felt like you placed pressure on yourself to have full clarity, or to give a definitive “no” due to your limitations, as if that waiting space wasn’t enough.
Please know: I’m not pressing for a yes, nor do I expect anything more than the grace you've already offered. I simply wonder if the same compassion you encourage others to receive might also be extended to yourself in this situation. Saying “I don’t know yet” or “not now” is still an answer—and a faithful one—when it’s held in prayer and patience, just like Simeon waiting in the temple.
So whether it’s a no, not yet, or something the Lord is still unfolding in time, I remain grateful for the way your voice is already blessing many, including me. Thank you for making space for this dialogue, and for offering your heart through your writing and your life.
Encouragement for the Waiting Soul: In the Spirit of the 40 Days After Easter
Dear Friends,
Sometimes, clarity doesn’t come quickly. Sometimes, the best we can offer is “not yet,” “I’m still listening,” or simply, “Lord, help me wait.” If that’s where you are today, you’re not alone—and you’re not outside the reach of God’s presence.
We are currently living in the 40 days after Easter, a sacred season often overlooked, yet deeply meaningful. After Jesus rose from the dead, He didn’t immediately ascend to heaven. Instead, He spent forty days appearing to His disciples and followers—many of whom were hiding, doubting, grieving, or simply confused about what would come next.
“After his suffering, he presented himself to them and gave many convincing proofs that he was alive. He appeared to them over a period of forty days and spoke about the kingdom of God.”
—Acts 1:3 (NIV)
In this post-resurrection season, Jesus didn’t rebuke their fear or demand instant faith. He met them where they were—with peace, presence, and promise. He broke bread with them, walked alongside them in their sadness (Luke 24:13–35), and spoke directly to their doubts (John 20:24–29). He reminded them of everything He had taught—and more importantly, what was coming: the gift of the Holy Spirit.
“I am going to send you what my Father has promised; but stay in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.”
—Luke 24:49 (NIV)
“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses…”
—Acts 1:8 (NIV)
So if you find yourself in a space of uncertainty—between what has been and what is yet to come—know that you are standing in sacred ground. These forty days were meant for waiting, for rebuilding faith, and for recognizing the risen Christ in new ways.
“Peace be with you.”
—John 20:19 (NIV)
These are the same words Jesus offered when He stepped into locked rooms filled with fear. They are the same words He speaks to us now, in our own rooms of hesitation, limitation, or holy unrest.
Even when we feel like we don’t have the strength, God does:
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
—2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)
And even when we don’t know what to do, the Spirit intercedes for us:
“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness... the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.”
—Romans 8:26 (NIV)
You don’t need to have it all figured out. Jesus meets us where we are—not in our perfection or productivity, but in our surrender and honesty. Sometimes the most faithful response isn’t a bold “yes” or “no,” but a quiet, prayerful “I’m listening.”
So today, may you find peace in the waiting. May you extend to yourself the same grace and compassion that you would offer to others. And may you remember that the same Jesus who appeared to His followers in their fear is still showing up for us—empowering us with His Spirit, filling the space between questions with presence, and preparing our hearts for what’s ahead.
With hope and blessing,
Javier
Subject: From One Journeyer to Another – A Heartfelt Note
Mike,
I read your recent message and deeply appreciate the vulnerability and insight you shared. Your reflections on receiving compassion, letting go of performance, and making space for healing really resonate with me—especially in this season of my life.
That said, I want to share something from my heart. A little while ago, I reached out to you, hoping you might consider reviewing my new book. I saw you as a spiritual leader who might understand the spirit behind what I’ve written—someone who could offer guidance or even just a word of encouragement. When I didn’t hear back, I was left sitting with silence, wondering if my voice mattered.
It’s hard to reconcile the public invitation to share struggles and receive compassion with the private absence of response. It’s not bitterness I’m coming with, just honesty—because, like you said, naming the struggle can be a step toward healing.
I still believe in the message of grace and connection. If there’s room now, I’d still be honored to share the book with you. Either way, thank you for your authenticity, and may the same compassion you’re learning to receive continue to shape your ministry and relationships.
With sincerity,
Javier
Hi Javier,
Thank you for your note and for connecting with my meditation on compassion and healing. I appreciate your kind words about my recent post.
Regarding your book request, I did receive your email where you stated: "I would love to invite you to pray over it, possibly explore partnership opportunities if the Lord leads you to connect with it." I've been honoring that request and prayerfully considering it as you suggested. I apologize for not responding sooner, but I didn't realize that you were pressed for time or needed an answer within a set amount of days. My fault for not realizing that.
Background: I am a father of two adult sons who have severe special needs, my situation is quite demanding. My boys require round-the-clock supervision and care, meaning someone must always be present with them. This reality significantly limits my time and capacity for taking on additional commitments.
I mentioned earlier that I've been seeking the Lord's guidance on this matter as you requested, but I don't feel I've received clear direction yet regarding a connection with your work. If you need an answer today, then I must respectfully decline with "no thank you." This isn't a reflection on your book's value or your voice as an author, but simply the constraints of my caregiving responsibilities and my current sense of spiritual direction.
Wishing you all the best with your book and hope it reaches the audience it's meant for.
Blessings on your journey,
Mike
Subject: Thank You and A Thoughtful Reflection
Dear Mike,
Thank you for your deeply thoughtful response. I receive it with respect and appreciation, especially knowing the immense love and responsibility you carry daily as a father and caregiver. That kind of sacrificial commitment speaks volumes, and I honor the space you're in.
As I sat with your message again with your beautiful meditation on compassion and healing, trying to make sense of it all, the Holy Spirit stirred up in me. I was moved by how powerfully you wrote about receiving Jesus’ unconditional love—not because of what we do or how well we perform, but simply because we are seen and loved by Him. You reminded us that the places we try to hide, the ones shaped by exhaustion, limitations, or uncertainty, are often the very spaces where Jesus meets us with tenderness.
Reading your meditation again alongside your message to me, I noticed a quiet contrast. On one hand, your reflection speaks boldly of a God who meets us in our weakness—not when we have capacity or clarity, but even in the ambiguity of waiting. Yet, in your reply about the book, it felt like you placed pressure on yourself to have full clarity, or to give a definitive “no” due to your limitations, as if that waiting space wasn’t enough.
Please know: I’m not pressing for a yes, nor do I expect anything more than the grace you've already offered. I simply wonder if the same compassion you encourage others to receive might also be extended to yourself in this situation. Saying “I don’t know yet” or “not now” is still an answer—and a faithful one—when it’s held in prayer and patience, just like Simeon waiting in the temple.
So whether it’s a no, not yet, or something the Lord is still unfolding in time, I remain grateful for the way your voice is already blessing many, including me. Thank you for making space for this dialogue, and for offering your heart through your writing and your life.
Grace and peace always,
Javier