Baby, “fine” is not holy ground.
Not now. Not ever. Not for you.
You can unclench your jaw and drop the lie.
Release the myth of okay.
Spit out the word, tepid like it’s gone bad—because it has.
This life?
It will be glorious and exhausting.
Hilarious and heart-splitting.
It will knock the wind out of you and then hand it back, stronger.
It will be confusing one minute and blindingly clear the next.
It will be miraculous.
It will be God-ordained, Christ-won, Spirit-sustained.
But it will never be fine.
The universe was not flung into being for fine.
Death was not conquered for fine.
Your faith is not strengthened, steadied, and carried for fine.
So don’t settle there.
Don’t live there.
Don’t shrink yourself to fit a word that small.
Live where love gets ridiculous.
Give grace until it spills down your arms and onto the floor.
Forgive like you trust God to keep the books better than you ever could.
You cannot outlove God.
You cannot outgive Him.
You cannot exhaust what He keeps pouring in.
When you let go of fine, space opens up—
for miracles you would’ve missed,
for people you would’ve overlooked,
for the fierce, tender, wonderfully alive woman God has been shaping all along.
And maybe—just maybe—
you look at her tonight and like her
a little more than you did yesterday.
