Walking with Jesus - When I Have Nothing Left

Walking with Jesus - When I Have Nothing Left

“I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.” -—Galatians 2:20

For the past three weeks, my heart has ached with emptiness, as if I were a vessel poured out, with nothing left to offer.

I have grieved the loss of my dear sister Joyce, her absence leaving an echo in every quiet moment. I have watched my father struggle with the debilitating effects of a stroke, his once-strong hands now trembling with uncertainty.

All around me, people God loves—and whom I love, are carrying burdens so heavy they have pressed me repeatedly to my knees in prayer, seeking solace and answers only God can give.

I have spent hours caring for loved ones, whispering prayers in hospital corridors, and wandering through the woods where the sunlight filters gently through the trees. Sometimes I cry out aloud to God, pouring out my confusion and grief; other times, I listen for the still, small voice of comfort. And on the hardest days, I simply focus on placing one foot in front of the other, trusting that Christ walks beside me, even when the path is unclear.

There have been moments when I felt numb, my soul wrapped in a silent fog. Words would not come, strength would not rise, and the world around me seemed to blur with uncertainty and sorrow. Yet through it all, Christ continued to live and work within me, His presence quietly sustaining me when I could not sustain myself.

That is the truth of Galatians 2:20. The Christian life is not sustained by our strength, emotions, or ability to hold everything together. It is Christ living in us.

When I could not find the words, Christ interceded. When I felt empty, Christ remained sufficient. When grief clouded my vision, Christ kept directing my steps. When I laid hands on hurting people and prayed, it was not because I possessed some great strength of my own. It was because the living Christ was still working through a weary and grieving servant.

My absence online was not an absence from ministry. If anything, these past three weeks have revealed that true ministry often happens in the margins of life—not confined to a pulpit, a devotional, or a computer screen. Sometimes, ministry takes place in the gentle squeeze of a trembling hand beside a hospital bed, in the silent strength of a quiet embrace, during a walk under the sheltering arms of ancient trees, or simply while sitting in shared silence with someone whose heart is breaking.

There are seasons when faith feels triumphant, and there are seasons when faith whispers, “Jesus, carry me.”

Both are faith.

I am still grieving, my heart heavy with love and longing. I am still concerned for my father, praying for his healing and peace. I continue to carry many precious people before the throne of grace, lifting their names and needs to the One who hears every cry. But through every step and every tear, I am not walking alone. I do not have to live this life in my own strength, for Christ walks with me, bearing my burdens and renewing my hope.

The Son of God loved me and gave Himself for me.

Therefore, even when I feel as though I have nothing left, Christ still lives in me—and Christ is more than enough.

Walking It Out

If you feel empty today, stop trying to manufacture strength. Place your burdens before Christ and pray this simple prayer:

“Jesus, I have nothing left—but You live in me. Be my strength for this day.”S