Falling, Rising, and Walking in Grace

There’s something about the air after confession; it feels lighter, freer, like the weight of a thousand storms has been lifted. After this time of recollection, after staring my weaknesses in the face and surrendering them to God, I realize something beautiful: falling isn’t the end of the story. Rising is.

Recollection opened my eyes to the cracks in my soul; the times I doubted, the times I let pride take the wheel, the moments I chose my way over His. I saw my own weaknesses laid bare. But confession? Confession showed me something greater: no matter how many times I fall, God’s mercy is deeper.

Peter sank in the waves, fear gripping his heart. But Jesus didn’t let him drown. The Prodigal Son hit rock bottom, but his father didn’t slam the door. David fell hard, but his repentance was met with restoration. And Jesus? He fell three times on the way to Calvary, but He got up every single time.

That’s what grace does. It doesn’t erase our falls, it turns them into stepping stones. Today, I walked into confession with my sins dragging behind me like heavy chains. I walk out weightless, unshackled, renewed.

This is the rhythm of the spiritual life: fall, rise, walk. Again and again. Not by our strength, but by His mercy. Not because we deserve it, but because Love refuses to let us stay down.

So here I am, standing on the other side of grace. I have fallen, but I have risen. And as long as His hand is stretched out, I will keep rising.

“The righteous may fall seven times, but they rise again.” Today, I rise again. And tomorrow? By His grace, I’ll keep rising.