If we read Matthew 10 correctly, we don’t walk away with permission to dismiss people; we walk away with a call to carry peace into places that may reject us anyway. The Kingdom of God is at hand, and it heals, calms, and freely welcomes those who desire to participate.

I don’t know how long I will remain in West Virginia. But I am beginning to understand why staying matters. Not because this place is perfect, but because I am not. And it is here—among these hills, these people, and these limits—that God is asking me to become someone new. Not somewhere else. Not someday... here.

There are seasons in life when faith cannot survive on borrowed language. What once felt familiar may begin to feel thin. Easy answers no longer satisfy. Religious habits that once gave comfort may begin to feel too small for the ache, beauty, grief, and wonder of actual life. And in that place, many people fear they are losing faith, when in truth they may be standing at the threshold of a deeper one. Not a smaller faith. Not a looser faith. Not a faith emptied of substance.

Again and again, God reveals that what He desires most is not the kind of strength the world applauds. He is not searching for people who can impress Him with their capacity. He is looking for hearts that will trust Him. He is not drawn to self-made power. He delights in faithfulness.