You Never Let Go

There are days when the road feels unbearably heavy, when life feels like walking through a valley so shadowed that light barely breaks through. That’s where I’ve found myself in this season—walking with my husband through seizures that come without warning, through depression that grips him fiercely, through uncertainty that leaves us both weary. It feels at times like we are caught in the middle of a storm that refuses to lift.

And yet, even here, even in the valley of the shadow of death, I have found a truth that will not leave me: God’s perfect love casts out fear. Not because the circumstances are easy, not because the storm suddenly quiets, but because His presence is stronger than the darkness. His nearness is my lifeline.

I whisper to myself often: “I will fear no evil, for my God is with me.” That promise is not just for some distant future—it is for right now, in the middle of seizures, in the middle of tears, in the middle of exhaustion. Fear comes knocking, trying to convince me that this storm will never end, that hope is gone, that joy has slipped away forever. But when I remember who is with me, fear begins to lose its grip. If the God of heaven is walking beside me, whom shall I fear? What storm could truly undo me? What valley could truly overcome me?

The truth is, I am not always strong. I cry. I break. I doubt. I feel the weight of loneliness and helplessness. But even then, I know this: God never lets go. Through every calm and every storm, through every high and every low, He holds me steady when I cannot steady myself. When my faith feels small, His grip on me does not weaken.

There is something beautiful about that kind of faithfulness. Human love, as deep as it can be, grows weary. My own strength, as determined as it tries to be, falters. But His love never fails, never runs out, never lets go. That is why I can keep walking, even when the valley is long and the shadow is deep. Because the One holding my hand is the same One who carries light into every darkness.

Sometimes, my prayers are no more than this: “Lord, don’t let go of us.” And every time, I feel the quiet assurance that He won’t. He is not a God who abandons. He is not a God who grows tired of carrying His children. He is not a God who lets the storm decide the outcome. He is near, always near, and His presence is the anchor that keeps me from being swept away.

So, I keep walking. One step, one day, one breath at a time. Through the valley, through the storm, through the highs and the lows, I know this truth will never change:

He never lets go.