MORE THAN ANYTHING

“He went a little farther and fell on His face, and prayed, saying, ‘O My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will.’” Matthew 26:39 (NKJV)

So, I started this new job, the first week, I kept complaining about long hours, while standing, and so on and so forth. The days felt unusually long, the body protested, and the mind kept asking questions it didn’t ask during the interview. Some evenings, all I wanted was rest — not just physical rest, but relief.

And in my closet, I kept telling God, take this cup, away from me. Quiet moments. Honest moments. No fancy words. Just truth laid bare before God. The kind of prayer you pray when you’re tired of being strong and just want Him to understand how heavy it feels.

But He knew better.

He knew, I needed it.
He knew, I deserved it.
I prayed for it.
And it was a blessing to have — more than anything.

Just like Jesus in Gethsemane, I learned that sometimes the cup we ask God to remove is the very cup shaping our obedience. Sometimes it’s not punishment — it’s preparation. Sometimes it’s not resistance — it’s refinement. God is gentle, but He is intentional. He does not waste seasons, and He does not answer prayers carelessly.

And so, I start off, not on a daily devotional — that my Dear readers, will be a stretch, I can’t manage for now — but at least per week, once a week, I will definitely endeavor to, for now. Because grace also allows pacing. Faith also allows honesty. And God walks with us even when our capacity changes.

More than anything, the Lord wants you to know, He cares. Not from a distance, not in theory, not in Scripture alone — but in the small, unseen places of your day. He cares about the weight you carry, the questions you don’t ask out loud, the fatigue you hide behind a smile. He cares about the prayers you whispered once and thought He forgot. He cares about the tears you never explained. Nothing about your life is invisible to Him.

More than anything, He loves. A steady love. A patient love. A love that does not withdraw when the season becomes uncomfortable. A love that stays when obedience feels costly. A love that allows the cup, not to harm you, but to shape you. Even when you don’t understand the why, His love remains the constant.

And in 2026, He has planned great and mighty things for you. Not shallow wins. Not empty applause. But weighty things. Lasting things. Things that require growth before they arrive. Some will come quietly. Some will surprise you. Some will demand more of you than you imagined — but all will be intentional.

I call this year, the Year of Abounding Grace for Open Doors, and that’s what I believe — not just for my life, but in yours as well. Doors that will stretch you beyond comfort. Doors that will humble you into prayer. Doors that will require endurance, patience, and consistency. Doors that won’t open because you were ready, but because God decided it was time.

Some doors will look like work. Some will look like responsibility. Some will look like long hours and silent obedience. But every open door will carry grace — sufficient grace, sustaining grace, abounding grace.

And those doors will confirm something deep in your spirit: that God heard you. That God remembered you. That God answered you — more than anything.

So trust Him — even with the cup. Trust Him when it’s heavy. Trust Him when it’s inconvenient. Trust Him when you would rather He chose another way. Because the same God who allows the cup is the God who pours the grace to drink it.

And that grace will be enough. See you in a few days or in a weeks time!