Draw Near

There is a quiet struggle I carry most days that often leaves me feeling torn and insufficient. Though unseen, it shapes my heart as I live grateful for my roles as a believer, wife and working mother.

At the heart of this struggle is something the Lord has been gently uncovering in me over time – my tendency to hold strong to performance for worth. I have lived with the belief that value is earned by doing things well, by being dependable, and by meeting expectations. This mindset made its way into my faith, my motherhood, and my work. I lived as if approval had to be earned, and rest was something I allowed myself only when everything was done.

I am a perfectionist by nature. I long to be fully present, endlessly patient, emotionally available, spiritually grounded, and professionally reliable - all at once. When my children constantly need me and call for me while work demands press in, my anger doesn’t rise because they need me. It rises because I believe they deserve more of me than I can give in that moment. The frustration often flows from guilt, the feeling that I’m falling short of what they truly need.

In one such season, when my heart felt particularly anxious and restless, I found myself praying a simple prayer: “Lord, draw me closer to you.” I didn’t need clarity about every role I was navigating. I needed refuge.

I became aware of how much noise my heart was carrying with the constant messages, quiet comparisons, and internal expectations of what a “good” believer or mother should look like. So I chose to step back and quiet some of those voices. My heart was drawn to Psalm 46, and it slowly became a place I returned to time and again, not to analyse, but to rest.

I read it aloud at home, sometimes in moments that were anything but quiet. I repeated its words when my thoughts felt scattered. Over time, its refrain began to settle into me: “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.” And even then, with Scripture in my heart, my heart felt heavy.

That confusion brought new questions: Why am I still struggling to rest if I trust God? Why does peace feel unreal when I know His Word is true? Beneath those questions was a familiar pressure - that even faith must be done well to be acceptable.

In grace, the Lord reminded me that he never intended me to carry these questions alone. I reached out to a trusted sister in Christ and shared honestly. She listened with gentleness and then invited me to look at Psalm 46 more closely, not to read it again, but to notice what it was truly saying.

Together, we did a simple exercise:

• We underlined every action attributed to God.

• We circled every action asked of us.

• And then we compared.

Line after line described God’s character and activity: He is our refuge. He is our strength. He is present. He makes wars cease. He breaks the bow. He brings desolation to His enemies.

And my role? Be still and know. Do not fear.

That truth began to loosen something far deeper than my anxiety. It exposed the false weight I had been carrying. Psalm 46 does not call me to stillness so I can finally get it right; it calls me to stillness because the work has already been done.

“Be still and know that I am God- is not an invitation to try harder, but to surrender. It is a reminder that God is not waiting for me to stabilize my heart before he acts; He is already my refuge and strength.”

I had mistaken stillness for passivity, but I learned that stillness is not merely doing nothing but trusting in the One who did and continues to do everything on my behalf.

He bore the weight I could never carry. He holds my life steady even when it feels unmanageable. 

The demands of daily life did not disappear. My workdays were still full, and my children still needed me, often all at once. But Psalm 46 reminded me that our God is an ever-present help, and not someone who sits distant and simply evaluates my performance. When I could not be everywhere at once, he remained constant.

Christ is not unsettled by my limitations; he entered them.

Slowly, my heart learned to interpret need differently. My children’s dependence was no longer evidence of my failure, but a reminder that I was never meant to be their refuge - God is. I could release the pressure to be all things because they already belong to a Savior who holds them more securely than I ever could.

Even my routines began to feel transformed. What once felt like an interruption became an invitation - an opportunity to remember where true safety lies. Psalm 46 speaks of a river whose streams make glad the city of God.

In the middle of my unfinished tasks and divided attention, Christ Himself was becoming that steady stream - quietly sustaining, asking nothing of me but to draw near.

I am still learning. Still unlearning patterns of performance. Still reminding my heart that I am loved - not because I manage my roles well, but because I belong to Christ.

 “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.” (James 4:8)

Not when everything is balanced.
Not when I’ve done enough.
But right here - held by the One who is my refuge and strength.