When The Desire To Praise Is Immediately Met By The Pressure To Perform

Okay, y'all this one is going to be personal. It's after 10 PM on August 3, 2026 and I'm scheduling this post a few weeks out, because I reference my surgery recovery and that isn't public knowledge yet.

As I write this, I am still amazed at how God is using this surgery and recovery journey to heal me emotionally as well as physically. Part of healing is taking note when something doesn't feel right and taking action when something isn't right. Tonight, I want to share with you something that didn't feel right and led me to confront a deeper wound than the incision across my lower abdomen.

I have never felt a stronger desire to praise the Lord than over the last few weeks recovering from this surgery, because I have felt the Lord's presence each day. I have felt protected by Him, cared for by Him, loved by Him. And I have relied both willingly and necessarily on Him.

When I've been in pain, tormented by anxious thoughts, or just overwhelmed by all the changes happening inside me and around me, Jesus was the only one who could comfort me. Time and time again, I prayed to Him, "Please, Lord, put your healing hands on me and heal me from the inside out." I prayed this prayer multiple times, not because it didn't work the first time, but because it did. Jesus was with me and I wanted Him to continue being with me.

The longing for His presence has never been greater. The longing for His healing touch has never been greater. My dependence on Him has never been greater. And the verse, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9 has never felt truer.

There have been times in my life when I've had to rely on God. When my dad was diagnosed with cancer, I prayed for God's divine healing. When my past relationship crumbled before my eyes, I prayed for God to save it. When my nephew was diagnosed with terminal cancer, still I prayed for God to work a miracle. In all three instances, I was forced to find the silver lining when the prayer wasn't answered. I was forced to praise Him in the heartache, in the loss, in the grief, in the utter confusion.

This time, I didn't feel like I had to rely on Him. I felt like I got to rely on Him. And this time, I get to praise Him from a place of love and gratitude rather than despair. But then came the pressure.

I've found myself thinking of how I can honor God for what He's done for me. How can I honor Him with the body He's preserved? And while this isn't a bad thought at all, where it led is a place I've struggled.

Thoughts of how can I praise Him turned into a feeling of being indebted to Him. I started to feel like I had to be perfect to earn His protection or else I let Him down or else He'll regret what He did for me or else He'll never show up for me again. I started thinking well what happens when I struggle with that sin again? Should I give up cropped tops? What exactly does this mean? What exactly does this praise look like? My spiraling thoughts led me to the place where praise no longer felt like praise. It felt like pressure. And then I realized...this isn't right.

God shows up for us, because He loves us. God protects us, because He's invested in our lives. What we do in response--how we praise and worship Him--comes from a place of love and gratitude not the pressure to perform, not the pressure to earn, not the weight of a debt He never cast on us. And that loving praise is not something I've ever truly had before, but now I do.

I won't let the pressure to perform steal the joy of my praise or steal the feeling of being loved by God.

On a slightly different note...there is one more thing the Lord has shown me through this process.

His presence and intervention has far exceeded anything that I asked for. Truthfully, when it comes to me, I usually don't pray my strongest prayers. It's more of a last minute thing--when I'm already on the plane, when I'm already in the car, when it's the night before surgery. I pray and I release, because on some level, I think I don't care as much what happens to me as I do the people I love.

I have peace in knowing that if it's my time, it's my time, and if it's not, God will protect me. Now, if I had kids or a husband, I'd be more cautious. But I don't. There's no one who needs me to wake up the next morning or get up off that operating table. Yet I have plenty of people waiting for me in Heaven who I can't wait to see. So, I don't worry. I don't worry if the plane goes down. I don't worry if I don't wake up.

And yet, when I did wake up, that's when my self-preservation instincts kicked in. That's when I started being careful. And as I put in all this effort to heal properly and stop the bleeding when I cut my finger on a broken jar of honey, I realized I actually do care if I live or die.

I think this time in isolation, where I've been forced to take things slowly, rest, pray, rely on God and others, and ultimately, give my body time to heal has been a time of healing greater than I could've expected. I pray that when I do get to step out of hibernation, I remember this time and the lessons I've learned. I pray that I remember to praise Him from a place of love and gratitude. I pray that my praise becomes a reminder of this time in my life when I felt loved by God, when God woke me up and said, "I'm not done with you yet, and you're not done with you either."