“Don’t point.”
We were taught this as children, and many of us have taught it to our own.
I remember those tiny fingers and the excited, “Look, Mommy!” and the quiet hope that what they had spotted was a butterfly, a bird, or even the candy counter at the grocery store. Please, not another person.
Children learn quickly that pointing at others can embarrass and can wound. In their innocence and honesty, they don’t yet understand the weight their words and actions can carry.
And yet, pointing does have its place.
It can be helpful, even necessary, when showing someone the way.
The other day, while walking with my husband, he spotted a deer I couldn’t see. “Look, honey… no, over here. If you stand there and look between that tulip poplar and the maple—you’ll see a twisted branch. Look right under that. Yes, right there.”
He stood near my line of vision and gently pointed me toward something beautiful I would have otherwise missed.
That stayed with me.
This morning, during my time with God, I found myself overwhelmed with gratitude for all He has done for me, and for how much lighter life feels when it is fully surrendered to Him.
And I do mean fully.
Because when surrender is partial, when we hold tightly to the very things He is asking us to release, life remains heavier than it needs to be.
Let me be clear: life is difficult. We live in a fallen world, and following Christ does not remove that reality.
But it does change how we walk through it.
We are given a peace that passes understanding.
We are given Someone to run to—Someone who hears us, holds us, and understands us.
Jesus Himself walked this earth. He was mocked, betrayed, and ultimately crucified. He knows what it is to be rejected, to grieve, to watch others choose sin over life.
He understands.
And because of that, I’ve come to see that the only way for me to walk this life with joy is through complete surrender.
Which brings me back to pointing.
At this stage of life, what I long for most is not to point out flaws or differences, but to point others to Him.
To gently guide, as my husband did, toward something they might not yet see.
To point out His radiance, His beauty, His creativity, and His forgiveness.
To help others find what is already there, waiting to be seen.
I want to point people to Him,
fully, completely, and faithfully.
Long walks and dark chocolate 