“Return to Him against whom the children of Israel have deeply revolted. For in that day every man shall throw away his idols of silver and his idols of gold—sin, which your own hands have made for yourselves.”

—‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭31‬:‭6‬-‭7‬ ‭NKJV

Recently I had to throw away a lot of things—some replaceable, some not. And with each thing I tossed, there was a different thought I had to fight:

What if I need it later?
This will be so hard to replace.
This will cost so much to fix.

On and on it went. Those thoughts wore me out just as much as the work of hauling things out and cleaning up after it all.

That’s the thing about thoughts: whether we realize it or not, it takes work to make them and work to hold onto them. Like sketches upon sketches—hours poured into drawings, favorite characters, and memories—you can spend yourself building an inner world. And letting go of certain thoughts can feel just as painful as throwing away that kind of work. At least, it did for me.

That’s the trick of thoughts: they aren’t physical, so the work they require sneaks up on you. It nibbles at you at first—small, almost unnoticeable bites of time, effort, and energy. But by the time you realize something’s wrong, those nibbles have become a hole that lets poison into your mind.

Then you’re left trying to cover that hole with a new thought—a truth strong enough to withstand any nibbling lie. And it can feel like the poison has coated so many memories, moments, and experiences that you have to throw away, give up, or tear apart pieces of your life just to find something worth keeping. Something you can point to and say, “The time—the suffering—meant something.”

Here’s a truth that helps heal that hole:

The work, the time, the suffering you went through doesn’t have to be held in things, feelings, or even in perfectly preserved memories. God can hold it. And He holds it honestly—not dressing it up to look pretty, and not tearing it apart to make it easier to swallow. He holds it honestly, fully, and closely.

And if you believe you lost something you can never get back, He doesn’t always replace what was lost—He gives you RESToration. A place to be held. A way to live not clinging to what can be taken, but receiving what He gives.

I threw away so much at the end of January. Yet now—on my birthday, my first birthday home in years—I’m realizing that being held is part of rest and restoration. Throwing away doesn’t mean worthless. Sometimes it means the opposite: it means God trusted enough to give, and I cared enough to hold. It means God cares enough to hold, and I’m learning to trust Him enough to mourn in His arms. It means God will always love enough to give—and I’m praying I’ll be brave enough to receive what He gives.

Are you?

Because receiving what God sends—His comfort, His rest, His restoration—is ultimately about receiving Him.

“He who receives you receives Me, and he who receives Me receives Him who sent Me.” – Matthew 10:40 NKJV

Prayer:

Jesus, help us release what we’ve clung to if it is not You. Teach us to receive what You give with open hands and a steady heart. Hold our grief honestly, and restore us with Your kind strength. Amen.