Is Anything Too Hard for the Lord?

Is anything too hard for the Lord,

Whose voice clothed chaos with order,

Who spoke into the womb of the void

And light obeyed without delay?

Is anything too hard for the Lord,

Whose hands measured the oceans in mercy,

Who weighed the mountains with justice

And still stooped low to number our tears?

He is Love without shadow or limit,

A fire that warms and never consumes,

A Father whose heart breaks for the broken,

Yet beats with power that shakes the earth.

Is anything too hard for the Lord,

Who parts seas with a whisper of will,

Who makes dry ground out of despair

And writes deliverance into history?

He is Mighty in battle and gentle in touch,

The Lion who roars, the Lamb who bleeds,

The God who crushes chains like dust

And calls captives by name into freedom.

Is anything too hard for the Lord,

Who turns graves into gateways of life,

Who speaks resurrection into dead bones

And hope into hearts long buried in fear?

His mercy runs deeper than our failures,

Longer than nights of endless regret,

A river that never runs dry,

Flowing even where faith feels thin.

He forgives with hands still scarred,

He heals with compassion unearned,

He restores what time and sin have stolen,

And crowns the weary with grace.

Is anything too hard for the Lord?

Ask the storm that bowed at His command.

Ask the stone that rolled from the tomb.

Ask the sinner who walked away redeemed.

From the altar of pain to the throne of praise,

From the ashes of loss to songs of joy,

He remains the same, faithful, able, supreme.

No burden too heavy,

No darkness too deep,

No wound too old,

No prayer too late.

Is anything too hard for the Lord?

No.

For nothing stands beyond His power,

Nothing escapes His love,

Nothing survives His mercy.

He is God

Mighty to save,

Faithful to deliver,

And forever worthy of trust.

At the Door of Your Heart

I spoke my truth not to bind you,

But because the heart, when full, must speak.

What I offered was not a demand,

Only a confession

Pure, deliberate, and sincere.

If my words arrived before their season,

I pray they do not bruise our friendship,

For I treasure it

Not as a consolation,

But as something already complete and beautiful.

Your presence in my life matters,

Whether love blooms or not.

Yet hear this, gently:

I have not turned away.

I stand at the quiet door of your heart,

Not with force,

Not with impatience,

But with reverence.

I knock not with noise,

But with constancy.

With kindness.

With time.

Knowing that doors are not broken into

They are opened when the soul is ready.

And if that door never opens,

Still, I will honor the house it protects.

Still, I will value the friendship it shelters.

Still, I will respect you, wholly.

This is my promise:

No pressure.

No resentment.

Only truth,

And a heart willing to wait or to remain a friend. 

From What Was to What Will Be

We stand at the lip of midnight 

breath held like a benediction,

the old year folding itself into a pocket of memory.

Goodness and grief have come in equal measure:

gifts wrapped in light, lessons wrapped in ache.

Thank you, I murmur to every bitter hour and sweet hour alike,

for each taught me how to steady my hands, how to pray when the night was long.

Tonight I release the worn-out maps of doubt,

the debts of worry, the small betrayals of fear.

I lay them gently on the altar of last year,

and watch the embers of what was burn bright and teach.

I am grateful for the doors that opened,

for the voices that stayed, for the hands that let go 

all sacred teachers on a strange and tender road.

Even sorrow, sober and stern, disciplined my heart to hope.

Now, a new road unfurls like scripture yet unread,

blank as first snow, humming with possibility.

I step forward with cautious courage, with a laugh tucked into my pocket,

and a prayer on my lips: that mercy will walk beside me, steady as dawn.

May faith be the lamp I carry, not a shield against questions,

but a light that shows the way when choices are fogged.

May compassion be my compass, generosity my currency,

and humility the shoes with which I travel.

We will build nothing perfect, only brave;

we will stumble, then gather up our courage and rise.

Let each failure be fertilizer for the next bloom,

each grace an answered whisper from a sky that remembers our names.

Come, New Year, we welcome you with open hands,

with songs half-formed and promises to keep.

Be gentle with our fragile plans; be fierce with our faith.

Lead us into laughter, into work that matters, into love that endures.

And when the road narrows, and shadows lengthen,

let us recall this night of gratitude and vow again:

to be kinder, truer, more alive 

to trust that every ending is the seam of a new beginning.

Amen and onward, with hope.