Gracefully Broken

There comes a time in life when everything around you is moving, yet somehow, you feel like you’re standing still. You're doing all the right things. Showing up, applying pressure, pushing forward, but something feels off. You're stuck, and you don’t know why.

That’s where I found myself.

From the outside, life looked good. My needs were met, my bills were paid, and I lacked for nothing essential. Even the things I wanted were within reach. But inside, there was tension. A quiet restlessness that wouldn’t let me settle.

One day, while sitting in that stillness, a question rose up in me: God, why am I waiting? Why do I feel like I’m not moving when I’m doing everything I can to grow? I wasn’t asking out of doubt. I was asking because I believe. I believe in momentum. I believe in purpose. And I believe in divine timing, even when I don’t understand it.

Then a song by Tasha Cobbs Leonard came on. Her music always seems to find me when I need it most. She sang: “God will break you to position you. He will break you to promote you. But when He does, He does it with grace.”

It was the answer I didn’t know I was ready for.

I realized I wasn’t stuck. I was being positioned. And the breaking? It wasn’t destruction. It was preparation. It was refinement. It was grace.

We don’t talk about grace like this often enough. We celebrate grace when it’s gentle, when it feels like peace, or blessing, or answered prayer. But grace also shows up in the quiet, heavy places. Grace is present when everything feels uncertain. It holds us steady when we’re being undone in the best possible way.

This season of my life has taught me that being broken doesn’t always mean being lost. Sometimes, it means being made ready.

I’m learning patience, not because I failed, but because God is aligning me with something greater. I’m being stretched, not to break me, but to expand my capacity. And while I may not have all the answers, I’m certain of this: I am exactly where I need to be.

So if you’re in a similar place — questioning, waiting, feeling the quiet weight of the in-between — know that it doesn’t mean you’ve missed your moment. It may just mean your moment is still being shaped. Trust that.

In this space, pour into yourself. Get still. Get honest. Don’t run from the breaking. Let it do its work. Because God doesn’t break us to leave us empty, He breaks us to rebuild us with purpose.

And when He does, He does it with grace.

This isn’t the end. This is alignment. This is preparation. This is the beginning of becoming who you were always meant to be.

With truth and purpose,

Lauren Taylor