The Place I Never Knew I Could Stand

This post is a little different, but I need to share something real with you. I didn’t learn any of this overnight. And I didn’t learn it from a place of strength. I learned it in a season where almost everything in my life felt like it was falling apart.

My marriage was barely holding together. We were already pastoring — well, my husband was — but I wasn’t stepping into that role. I didn’t have the emotional strength or the spiritual confidence for it. I didn’t even know who I was in God. I loved Him, but I felt lost. Broken. Overwhelmed. I was a Christian, but I was in a very dark place. Depressed. Confused. Hurting in ways I didn’t know how to talk about. Surviving more than living. Pretending more than thriving. I wasn’t preaching. I wasn’t teaching. I wasn’t pouring into anyone. I was barely holding myself together. But something in me knew I couldn’t keep living like that.

So I reached for God the only way I knew how — listening to different pastors on TV, opening the Bible wherever it landed, hoping for something that would steady the chaos inside me. I didn’t know what I needed, but God met me in that desperation.

Slowly — layer by layer — He began healing places in me I didn’t know were still bleeding. He revealed Himself gently, steadily, and in the process began showing me who I was — not the version shaped by fear or wounds, but the one He designed long before any of those things touched me.

I didn’t have language for it then. But I see it clearly now: Strength doesn’t come from feeling strong. Strength comes from trusting Him. Not the “I have faith” we say while drowning. Not the confidence we try to project to others. Real trust. Simple trust. The Abraham kind — quiet, steady, leaning trust — even when nothing looks fixed.

Before I ever understood grace, God was already teaching me how to lean. How to surrender. How to rest in Him even when everything in me felt unstable. I didn’t know its name then, but looking back, that steadying I felt was grace — the foundation God had been laying under me long before I recognized it.

It didn’t feel spiritual. It didn’t feel like revelation. It felt like… not collapsing. Not breaking the way I used to. Not getting swept under by fear the way I expected to. Something unseen holding me together.

As God kept healing me, I noticed another shift: hunger. Not loud, dramatic hunger. Quiet, steady hunger. The kind that pulls you toward Him even when you don’t know why. The kind that leans in when your emotions are exhausted. The kind that says, “I don’t understand everything, but I want You.”

And the more He healed me, the more I longed to know Him — not the distant God I heard about growing up, not the casual version people talked about, but the God who was meeting me in the middle of my brokenness. The God who wasn’t intimidated by my pain. The God who wasn’t disappointed by my weakness. He wasn’t distant. He wasn’t impatient. He wasn’t cold. He was a Father — not like my earthly one — one who didn’t flinch at my mess.

And because of that, I found myself trusting Him in ways I didn’t even recognize as trust back then. Simple, raw trust. The kind where you don’t have answers, but you lean anyway. The kind where faith shows up in the reaching, not the shouting. That trust was doing more than comforting me. It was positioning me. It was preparing me for a truth I wasn’t ready for earlier — a truth that would eventually explain everything God had been doing beneath the surface of my life.

And then one day — not a dramatic day, just an ordinary moment — God led me to Romans 5. I wasn’t searching for it. I wasn’t on a Bible plan. It felt more like God saying:

“Here. This is what I’ve been doing in you all along.” And the words didn’t hit me like something new. They hit me like recognition.

Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand, and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God’s glory. (Romans 5:2 NLT)

That’s what had been happening. I hadn’t been standing because I was strong. I was standing because grace had been carrying me the whole time.

And then Romans 5:17 changed everything:

For the sin of this one man, Adam, caused death to rule over many. But even greater is God’s wonderful grace and his gift of righteousness, for all who receive it will live in triumph over sin and death through this one man, Jesus Christ. (NLT)

I realized something I had never seen before:

You can be saved and still not reign.

You can love God and still live defeated.

You can be forgiven and still live like a prisoner.

You can belong to Him and still never stand in what He purchased.

Why? Because reigning isn’t automatic. You must receive — not earn, not strive, not prove yourself worthy.

Receive:

• abundance of grace

• the gift of righteousness

Suddenly everything clicked. This is why my life had begun to shift. This is why fear was losing its grip. This is why old patterns weren’t holding me the same way. This is why peace was becoming possible. I wasn’t improving myself. I was receiving what Christ paid for. I wasn’t standing toward grace. I wasn’t standing for grace. I wasn’t standing to earn grace. I was already standing in grace. And that changed everything.

I had lived outside something God already gave me — not because He withheld it, but because I didn’t know what I had access to. I thought faith was something I had to prove. Victory was something I had to earn. Strength was something I had to muster. Favor was something I had to deserve. Healing was something I had to “grow into.” God’s help was for people who got everything right.

But Romans 5 says none of that. It says we stand in grace — not because of performance, perfection, or track record — but because of faith.

And here’s the truth most people never hear:

Grace isn’t a reward. Grace is a place.

A place Christ opened.

A place faith steps into.

A place that becomes your foundation.

A place where favor rests on you — not because you earned it, but because you’re His.

And when Paul said we would reign in life, he meant it.

Reigning doesn’t mean life gets easy.

It means fear doesn’t own you.

Shame doesn’t define you.

Sin doesn’t dictate your choices.

Your past doesn’t determine your future.

Your emotions don’t govern your decisions.

Your failures don’t name you.

The enemy doesn’t get the final word.

Grace does.

And once grace becomes your governing force, everything shifts.

Not instantly.

Not perfectly.

But undeniably.

Because you can’t stand in grace and stay the same.

Maybe no one told you this. Maybe you’ve been trying to live for God without ever learning how to stand in what He already gave you. Maybe you’re tired, struggling, discouraged, or feeling “behind.” You’re not broken. You’re not failing. You’re not faithless. You’ve just never been taught how to stand.

Not in willpower.

Not in effort.

Not in knowledge.

Not in emotions.

Not in works.

Not in your ability to hold everything together.

But in grace — the place Christ positioned you.

Somewhere along the way, we were taught to work for what God already gave…to strive for what Jesus already finished…to earn what Christ already paid for. No wonder we live exhausted.

When you stop trying to be enough and start receiving what He already made available — that’s when you stop surviving and start reigning. Not reigning like a perfect person. Not reigning like someone who “made it.”

But reigning like someone who finally knows what they’re standing on.

Reigning like someone whose fear no longer governs them.

Reigning like someone whose shame no longer owns them.

Reigning like someone whose past no longer has authority.

Reigning like someone who understands grace isn’t something you visit — it’s the place you live.

Because Christ paid the price for you to reign.

He broke the reign of death so you could step into the reign of life.

You’re not fighting for a throne. You’re standing in a kingdom where the King already defeated every enemy that ever tried to defeat you.

So this isn’t the moment to shrink back.

This isn’t the moment to question who you are.

This isn’t the moment to settle for survival.

This isn’t the moment to return to what once held you.

This is the moment to stand — truly stand — in the grace Christ bought with His blood…and reign in the life He died to give you.

Grace is your place.

Reigning is your inheritance.

Faith is your doorway.

Christ is the One who made it possible.

Step into what He paid for.

Stand in what He opened.

Live the life He purchased.

And reign — because He said you could.

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