“Let my heart be broken by the things that break the heart of God.” Maybe you’ve prayed that too, not knowing just how deeply God would take you at your word. Maybe, like me, you once scribbled hopes in the margins of your Bible. Dreams that looked like maps, tracing the outline of a life you longed to pour out for others. You wanted your life to matter. You wanted to love well. You wanted to be part of His great rescue story.

And then came the detours. The storms you didn’t see coming. The valleys of grief and disappointment. Pages tear-stained by heartbreak, others smudged with laughter. If you’re like me, I’m sure you’ve made mistakes, some loud and humbling, some silent and aching, and still, somehow, grace kept finding you. Maybe you’ve stood on mountaintops where the view was breathtaking, the miracles so close, and the air so clear.

If any of this sounds like your story, I want to tell you this: the melody hasn’t stopped. Even if it’s quieter now, and more complex, it’s deeper too. The song of calling has become a song of becoming. And every scar you carry tells a story, not of failure, but of love, growth, and presence.

You were never called to perfection, only to presence. To keep your heart soft in a hard, unforgiving and gnarly world. You were called to carry grace like a lantern into the darkest of dark places.

Even if the path looks different from what you imagined, the truth remains: it’s never too late. The story isn’t over. And the melody still plays, only it’s stronger and steadier now. A song only time and surrender could write.

So take heart. He’s still weaving beauty into the lines you thought were lost. Listen closely as your younger self still whispers beneath the noise, reminding you of who you are and why you began. The calling hasn’t changed. The story is still unfolding. And grace, His unexpected, unearned, extravagant grace, still seeks hearts that are tender, yielded, and willing enough to break for what breaks His.