Dear Readers,

I am writing this to you in a season of my own miry clay.

I have always been deeply moved by the spirit of King David. What draws me to him most is not just his courage, his victories, or his leadership—but his radical honesty with God.

Many of us struggle with transparency. To truly be transparent requires full vulnerability. And if I’m honest with you, vulnerability can feel terrifying. I don’t know about you, but one of my deepest fears has always been being judged.

So what do we do?
We hide.

We mask our true selves behind smiles, good stories, and carefully constructed lives. And if you’re anything like me, you build walls—strong ones—so no one can see what is really happening inside.

But today, I want us to pause for a moment and step into the mind of David.

Let’s look at Psalm 40. David writes:

“He brought me up also out of a horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock and established my goings.”

What was David talking about?

A pit.
Miry clay.

Those are not casual words. David was describing a place of deep distress—a place where he felt trapped, stuck, and unable to free himself. Miry clay is not something you simply step out of. The more you struggle, the more it pulls you down. It is dark. It is frightening. It is uncertain.

And if I’m honest with you, that is exactly where I have found myself in this season of life.

Recently, I picked up my phone and dialed my mother’s number. I needed to tell her what I was feeling—the weight of this miry clay.

You see, I have always been wired to move forward. To achieve. To improve. For most of my life, success became the way I measured my worth.

Now, some of you reading this might immediately think, “Girl, your worth isn’t tied to success.”

And you’re right.

In fact, that realization is exactly what God has been trying to teach me. It’s the very mindset He is pulling me out of—the mindset I now recognize as my own version of miry clay.

Because living that way is exhausting.

Running and running… trying to win, trying to prove yourself, trying to stay valuable so you won’t feel abandoned.

My years growing up in an orphanage taught me something deep in my soul:
If you stop contributing… if you stop improving… if you stop excelling… you might be discarded.

That belief became a silent driver in my life. And eventually, it drove me to the end of my rope.

I became tired.
Tired of striving.
Tired of performing.
Tired of running just to feel worthy.

But David reminds us of something powerful.

In the middle of describing his despair, he immediately shifts his focus to God. He calls Him the Rock.

David understood something that many of us forget:
When life feels like miry clay, God is the Rock.

When we feel stuck.
When the ground beneath us feels unstable.
When our strength is gone.

God is the One who lifts us out.

He is the One who sets our feet on solid ground.
He is the One who establishes our steps.

So if you find yourself today in what feels like a pit—if life feels heavy, uncertain, or overwhelming—remember this:

The same God who lifted David is still lifting people today.

And sometimes the first step out of the clay is simply this:

Being honest about where you are.