Because He Lives, I Can Too

I believe in faithfulness. Not just the kind that keeps promises, but the kind that shows up when life feels too heavy to carry alone. Faithfulness, to me, is steady—it’s staying when it would be easier to leave, it’s loving through the quiet seasons when gratitude goes unspoken, and it’s holding someone’s hand when the world has gone dark around them. I’ve learned that real faithfulness isn’t proven in words; it’s proven in endurance, in patience, and in the stillness of showing up again and again when no one else does.

I believe in giving of myself for someone else. There’s something sacred about sacrifice—not the grand, heroic kind people write about, but the daily, quiet kind that happens in kitchens, in hospital rooms, in long nights when you whisper prayers for someone you love. Giving of myself has taught me both strength and surrender. It’s taught me that love isn’t measured by what we get back, but by what we give freely, without counting the cost. It’s not easy to pour from a cup that often feels empty, but somehow, when love is real, it fills itself again through grace alone.

I believe in peace and love. Not the kind the world sells in pretty packages, but the deep, soul-kind—the peace that settles in your chest even when the storm still rages, and the love that forgives before it understands. True peace doesn’t come from having everything figured out; it comes from knowing Who holds it all together when you don’t. And love—it’s the greatest teacher of all. Love doesn’t always make sense. It doesn’t always fix what’s broken. But it reaches into the cracks of our hearts and plants seeds of hope that somehow bloom again, even after seasons of loss.

I believe in honesty and trust, but I’ve learned that sometimes, even those aren’t enough. You can be honest to your core and still be misunderstood. You can trust with everything you have and still be let down. Life doesn’t always play fair, and people don’t always stay true. But I’ve learned not to let that harden me. If anything, it’s made me cling tighter to the One who is truth itself. Because while honesty and trust can sometimes be shaken in this world, they are never shaken in Him.

For all that I believe, for all that I hold dear—faithfulness, love, honesty, peace—I know none of it can truly change the world around me on its own. I can believe until my voice runs out, and still find that pain, injustice, and heartbreak exist. I can try to hold everything together through good intentions, and still fall short. And yet, I don’t lose hope. Because my faith isn’t in what I believe—it’s in Who I believe in.

Unless I believe Jesus lives, everything else eventually fades. Without Him, faithfulness becomes obligation. Giving becomes exhaustion. Peace feels temporary, and love runs out. But with Him—everything changes. His life is what gives meaning to mine. His love turns sacrifice into joy. His presence turns pain into purpose. The cross wasn’t just an act of redemption; it was the definition of everything I believe in—faithfulness, love, honesty, and trust—all nailed into eternity so I could know what real life is.

I’ve walked through seasons where my beliefs were tested, where peace felt distant and love felt heavy. I’ve prayed through nights when faith felt like a whisper I was barely holding onto. But even there—in the quiet ache—Jesus lived. Not just as a story, not as an idea, but as a living, breathing presence that steadied me when I couldn’t steady myself. He reminded me that belief isn’t proven by what we see, but by what we choose to hold onto when nothing makes sense.

Believing that Jesus lives means I don’t have to carry it all. It means faithfulness has a foundation. It means love never runs out, because it comes from an endless source. It means peace can exist even when the world feels upside down. It means honesty and trust are possible again, because He redeems what was broken. It’s not about having perfect faith—it’s about believing in a perfect Savior who meets me in my imperfection.

So yes, I believe in faithfulness, in giving, in peace, love, honesty, and trust. But more than that—I believe in the One who breathed life into all of those things. Because belief alone can’t save me. Goodness alone can’t heal me. Love alone can’t carry me through forever. But Jesus can. And He does.

Every time I falter, He reminds me: belief isn’t about certainty—it’s about surrender. It’s about choosing to trust that even when I don’t see the whole picture, He’s painting something beautiful out of the brokenness. It’s about knowing that the faithfulness I give to others is only a reflection of His faithfulness to me. It’s about loving because He loved first. Giving because He gave everything. And believing—not because it always makes sense—but because He lives.

And because He lives, I can too.