It is yet another week of watching church from home, and I am grateful that over these last three years, God has enabled me not to miss a single week.

That alone is a testimony.

Even in seasons when I have needed to be away from the actual sanctuary, the Lord has reminded me that the living room can still become a sanctuary, too. It can still be a holy place. It can still be a place of worship, surrender, tears, prayer, and praise.

God is not limited by walls, pews, pulpits, or stained glass. He meets us wherever we are, and in this season, He has been meeting me right here at home.

In this hard stretch of life, I feel like I am hanging on to the hem of His garment for dear life. And maybe that is not pretty to read, but it is true. Some seasons are not about standing tall and strong. Some seasons are about holding on. Some seasons are about reaching for Jesus with trembling hands and trusting that even in our weakness, He is still enough.

This is one of those seasons for me.

It was a blessing to join Amherst Presbyterian Church on this Sunday through their YouTube channel. The service began with beautiful worship music and prayer, and it ministered to my heart more than I can say. There is something about beginning the day in worship that helps steady a weary soul. Before the noise, before the weight of grief and questions settles too heavily on my chest, there is Jesus. There is His presence. There is His peace.

The Scripture reading came from John 20:19-31, and the words that keep echoing in my spirit are these: “Peace be with you.”

That is the phrase that has been speaking directly to my heart.

Peace be with you.

Not panic be with you.
Not fear be with you.
Not despair be with you.
But peace.

And what a miracle that is, because Jesus speaks those words to disciples who were afraid, shut in, overwhelmed, and uncertain.

He does not come to them with condemnation for their fear. He comes with peace. He comes with His presence. He comes with the scars still visible, proving that resurrection does not erase what was suffered, but it does redeem it.

That ministers to me, because I know what it is to carry wounds and still need peace. I know what it is to love Jesus and still wrestle with worry.

And that is where this passage met me personally.

Jesus says to Thomas, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

That makes me stop and ask myself some hard questions.

Am I trusting the way I should?
Am I really resting in who God is?
Am I living like I believe what I say I believe?

Because I know Jesus is real. I know He has been faithful to me. I know He has carried me through things that should have taken me out. I know He left the ninety-nine for me. I know He has held me in His hand all along.

And yet, I worry.

I worry so much.

Too much for someone so deeply loved. Too much for someone held by the hands of God. Too much for someone who has seen His faithfulness over and over and over again. And maybe that is why this message struck me. It reminded me that Jesus does not turn away from us in our doubt, our fear, or our fragile faith. He comes close. He speaks peace. He reminds us who He is.

That is one of the things I love most about Jesus. He is not scared off by our weakness. He is not intimidated by our questions. He is not frustrated by our trembling. He comes near anyway. He still offers peace. He still offers Himself.

And that gives me so much hope.

Because love is still here.
Grace is still here.
Patience is still here.
And most of all, hope is still here.

Hope is still here. Even in grief. Even in a season that feels heavier than I know how to explain. Even when I am watching church from my living room instead of sitting in a sanctuary. Hope is still here because Jesus is still here.

The pastor also reminded us not to be afraid of doing the hard things. That stayed with me. Because sometimes faith does not look dramatic. Sometimes faith looks like refusing to throw in the towel. Sometimes faith looks like getting up again, praying again, trusting again, showing up again, even when your heart feels bruised. Sometimes faith looks like doing the hard thing while your knees are shaking.

And I think many of us need that reminder.

Do not throw in the towel.
Do not give up because it hurts.
Do not assume God has left just because the road is hard.

God is with us.

Not just in the easy places.
Not just in the answered prayers.
Not just in the bright and beautiful seasons.

He is with us in the hard things, too.

That matters to me, because I am learning that the Christian life is not proof against pain. It is proof that we do not walk through pain alone. Jesus does not promise the absence of trouble, but He does promise His presence in the middle of it. And sometimes that is what carries us. Not the removal of the burden, but the nearness of the Savior.

I thank Amherst Presbyterian Church for their love and kindness, for the beauty of the service, and for the way the Word ministered to my heart exactly where I am. I am grateful for churches that make room for people to worship from home when they need to, and for the reminder that the Holy Spirit can move just as powerfully through a screen as He can in a sanctuary.

And as always, I am looking ahead with expectation, grateful for where God has brought me and excited to see where the Holy Spirit leads next week.

I want to ask something tenderly and sincerely. I am asking for your prayer. Please pray with all of your heart for an unspoken request. God knows every detail. He sees what I cannot say fully, and He is faithful in every place where words fall short.

So if you think of me, please pray.

And may the words of Jesus settle into your heart the way they are settling into mine,

Peace be with you.

Love you all,

Annie Stewart Lambert