Look Up

Running to God when you’re tired of competing, convincing, and performing for love

Five Below.

Fluorescent lights. Bright aisles. Five dollar finds stacked in plastic bins.

And there it was.

A small Superman magnet that said, “Look up.”

Not a burning bush.
Not a thunderous voice.
Not a perfectly timed sermon.

Just a cheap magnet on a shelf.

But it felt like a whisper.

Look up.

Not at who didn’t choose you.
Not at the text that never came.
Not at the silence that feels louder than words.

Look up.

Because your help is higher.
Your worth is already settled.
Your rescue is not dependent on human recognition.

They say, go where you’re valued.

So I ran to God.

And here’s what I am learning.

Run to God.

When the room feels like a stage and you feel like you are auditioning for love.
When you start rehearsing conversations in your head, trying to say it softer, clearer, better, hoping this time you will finally be understood.
When someone pulls away and your chest tightens with that familiar ache.

Run to God.

Not to prove anything.
Not to outshine anyone.
Not to finally be enough.

Just run.

Because in His presence, you do not have to compete.
You do not have to convince.
You do not have to perform.

You do not have to explain your heart in perfectly organized paragraphs.
You do not have to minimize your needs so you are easier to handle.
You do not have to fight for a seat at the table.

You are already wanted.

Already seen.
Already chosen.
Already loved.

There is something that shifts in you when you stop running toward applause and start running toward Abba. The constant scanning of the room for validation slows down. The tightness in your shoulders begins to loosen. The need to be picked by someone who is inconsistent starts to lose its grip.

You remember you already were picked.

Chosen before you healed completely.
Chosen before you communicated perfectly.
Chosen before you got it right.
Chosen before you stopped being “too much.”

So many of us exhaust ourselves trying to be indispensable. Trying to be low maintenance. Trying to be the calm one, the strong one, the easy one.

But in God’s presence, you do not have to shrink.

You can say, this hurt.
You can say, I am tired.
You can say, I am disappointed.
You can say, I do not understand why this keeps happening.

And He does not withdraw.

His presence does not fluctuate with mood.
His love does not disappear to regulate.
His commitment does not waver when you are inconvenient.

He stays.

And sometimes running to God is not just about comfort.

Sometimes it is about surrender.

It is about praying, “Break what is breaking me.”

If I am clinging to validation from the wrong places, break that.
If I am addicted to being chosen by people who are unsure, break that.
If I am striving for love that You already freely give, break that.

Not in cruelty.
In mercy.

Because when He breaks what is breaking you, He is not punishing you. He is freeing you.

Five Below.

A plastic magnet.

A simple phrase.

Look up.

Run to God.

Let Him remind you who you are.
Let Him steady your heart.
Let Him break the patterns that keep wounding you.
Let Him carry what you keep trying to hold together.

You do not have to compete.
You do not have to convince.
You do not have to perform.

You already belong.

Song for this season: “Break What’s Breaking Me” by Phoenix Rae.

Let it be your prayer.

Look up.