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Brittany Ross

October 11, 2025

2 Corinthians 5:15, New Living Translation

“He died for everyone so that those who receive his new life will no longer live for themselves. Instead, they will live for Christ, who died and was raised for them.”


Busy Staying Alive

 

Steam rose from my coffee as I sat cross-legged, journal and Bible strewn across the spiky, Guatemalan grass. 

 

It was day two of my first international missions’ trip and I was up early, eager to connect with God and tap into His heart. 

 

He must have been eager to connect with me, too, because it only took a mere matter of minutes for Him to drop a truth bomb that caused an explosion of tears. 

“You have been so busy trying to stay alive, you forgot to stay in love,” He whispered. 

 

Kaboom. 

 

“If you are not in love, are you really alive?” He wasn’t talking about romantic love with anyone but Him. He was reminding me what I was made for. 

 

Instantly, I felt the impact of this truth and the weight of the question. 

 

I was made for love. When did I settle for survival? 

 

The last several years have left me war-worn— fighting my way out of a valley of grief with four children in tow. The death of a marriage doomed by emotional abandonment and intimate betrayal left me groping through the darkness of the wreckage, grasping for the hem of His garment. 

 

There have been so many opportunities for ugly things like unforgiveness, the victim’s mentality, resentment, fear, rejection, rage and grief to swallow me like quicksand in this season if I stood still long enough. 

 

So, I have kept it moving. Both hands on the plow, one painstaking step followed by another. 

 

In the thick of it, God gave me a promise to hang on to and told me to keep showing up. 

 

So, I have. I have kept walking through open doors. Dragging myself to where I know I need to be. 

 

Which is one reason I found myself in Guatemala. 

 

“You have kept your hands to the plow, but you have dropped your song.” 

 

The thoughts came in, one wave after the next. 

 

I had just read about the prophet Isaiah speaking to the many names and attributes of God. He knew the many names of God and wrote in length about His character. 

Among these, there was only one attribute of God that caused Isaiah to burst into song: Beloved. 

 

I have been doing the right things, but the immense amount of pain, disappointment and fear surrounding my heart left it shut down and disconnected. 

 

I have been showing up, but have I really been showing up?

 

With this understanding as the backdrop, I could see how I have been so busy clinging in survival to the life-saving attributes of God: faithful, just, provider, promise-keeper, redeemer, restorer… that I forgot the foundation of them all is this: I am my beloved’s, and His desire is for me. 

 

Because He loves me— He is faithful. Because He loves me— He will bring justice. Because He loves me—He will provide. Because He loves me— He keeps His promises. Because He loves me— He will redeem me. Because He loves me— He will restore the years the locusts have eaten. 

 

Maybe when a heart gets shattered by betrayal and disappointment it has to work its way backwards - clinging to the fruit of Love as it seeks to abide safely in the Vine. 

 

I am learning. 

 

Each day, a new opportunity to lean into love instead of clinging to survival. 

 

It’s been a few months since that trip, but I have returned to that revelation over and over, each time asking God to transform me from a survivor into a lover. 

 

This will require me to die, and that’s a really hard thing for a survivor to do. 

 

But if I am to live in love, I must die to my identity as a survivor and emerge as a bride.

 

That requires trust. 

 

The Sunday we returned from Guatemala, I was on stage singing during Sunday morning worship at my church. I sang out prophetically: 

 

Take me where You wanna go

How You wanna go

I don’t need to know

Because I trust You.

 

…I think I found my song. As long as I keep holding onto it, I will remember to stay in love.

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