You would not believe the amount of pivoting my family and I experienced last week. What started as an international vacation to Old Quebec quickly changed course to a Disney vacation within 24 hours.

I was invited to join my cousin and aunt on their yearly vacation. My aunt planned this vacation over the course of eight months, booking lodging, discovering local coffee shops and attractions, and a spa day—an incredible way to vacation in my book. The three of us loaded into the car, checked our bags for our passports, and that’s where the plan started to unravel.

I grabbed my expired passport.

My heart sunk into my stomach and started racing, and I bravely announced my error. I felt awful knowing that I derailed plans. After all, I was invited on their vacation. We strategized and looked into any possible way we could still make the trip happen, and then it hit me: I have airline points! I can book a round-trip flight home for the same day and, with the help of my parents, get my passport.

The trip is still on!

We decided to check out a local craft fair to kill some time before I had to be at the airport. We perused the vendor booths, smelled the most incredible food from the different cultures represented in this suburb of Cleveland, OH, bought a few things to commence the trip, and grabbed authentic Mexican food to take home.

We sat around the table enjoying a late lunch when I exclaimed, “I won’t keep saying it, but I’m so sorry. At least we discovered this before we were at the border.”

Then one of us, I won’t say who, decided they should check their passport’s expiration date.

That’s when the second pivot happened.

Her passport expired in November, and she had no clue. I had to get up and look with my own eyes to believe it. Sure enough, her passport expired.

To give a little more context to all the pivoting, the week leading up to this moment had already required a lot of flexibility. I originally planned to drive my grandparents to Ohio from South Carolina, but a few days before we were supposed to leave, my grandmother had to go to the hospital. Thankfully, she’s okay, but this meant I had to book a flight. At the same time, my aunt and cousin lost their dog sitters and had to piece together help at the last minute. By the time we discovered the expired passport, we were all a bit stretched and tired, and we had to start strategizing fast.

To make the situation even more challenging, we couldn’t get refunded for everything we’d prepaid for. We needed to figure out a feasible way to still take a vacation, and it just so happened Orlando, FL, had some manageable rates.

We’re very familiar with Disney, so it didn’t take much to get excited about a vacation somewhere warm that also had palm trees. Plus, Mickey Mouse lived there, and we really like Magic Kingdom.

I reserved a room at Disney’s Coronado Springs Resort for the first night. That was all we needed to get the trip started. We decided to drive through the night on Saturday, go straight to the resort, and figure everything else out on the drive down.

After fourteen hours, a Buc-ee’s stop, and a couple of driver changes later, we arrived at Coronado Springs!

We were excited to get to the resort, to say the least. But to make the moment even more exciting, the hotel was absolutely beautiful. By the time we grabbed an early lunch, our room was ready. We took a quick nap and visited the pool near our room to start some R&R.

On our drive, we planned to go to Magic Kingdom the next day. If you don’t know, if you stay at a Disney resort, you get early entry before Rope Drop—it’s pretty epic.

As we made our way from the resort to Magic Kingdom, I started thinking about something Disney does remarkably well: it creates worlds where broken things can be restored. Problems have solutions. Wishes come true. The impossible becomes possible. Characters who experience loss, disappointment, rejection, or fear eventually find some version of restoration.

There’s something deeply appealing about that.

Maybe it’s because, underneath all the magic, we recognize the longing.

We want broken things to be made whole too.

I’ve been bouncing between Jeremiah and Nehemiah in my Bible reading. Something struck me as I read Jeremiah a couple of weeks ago leading up to vacation. In chapter eight, we see God speaking against Israel, specifically their wise men. God asks the question, “How can you say, ‘We are wise, and the Law of the LORD is with us’?” God declares their decree erroneous because they have rejected him, so how could they be wise?

After all, wisdom comes from truth, and if you reject truth, how can you be wise?

In verse 10, we see everyone from the least to greatest, even the prophets and priests, practice deceit. Then, in verse 11, God says, “They have healed the brokenness of the daughter of My people superficially, saying ‘Peace, peace,’ but there is no peace.”

Let’s practice good hermeneutics and ask ourselves: What does this passage say about God?

If you’ve read the Old Testament in any capacity, you probably understand that God gives his people instruction, telling them to follow it and they’ll flourish, or don’t and they’ll perish. Why?

From the very beginning of Scripture, we see that God is holy. He designed everything with perfect wisdom, but humanity chose to follow a lie that led to the ruin of that perfect design. The even greater emphasis is God’s response to sin and rebellion.

In God’s holiness, he pronounced judgment, but it didn’t end there. He followed judgment with the promise of redemption.

This cycle is repeated throughout the canon, and we see that evidenced in Jeremiah. God’s people have rejected him and his law, again. The leaders, the prophets, and the priests are supposed to be wise because of God’s Law and minister healing to the people. Instead, they give false assurance of peace apart from truth and repentance. They call something healed that isn’t healed. They say there is peace when there is no peace, and God calls it an abomination (v. 12).

You may be thinking, what does this have to do with Disney magic and healing?

I understand the confusion. I’ll lay it out for you.

One of the things I appreciate about Walt Disney is his love for innovation and dreaming about what the future could be. He didn’t stop at the dreaming stage; he took action to put his dreams on display, inviting other people to dream with him and experience a possible reality, or a make-believe reality that is “wonderful.”

Regardless of your thoughts on the theme parks or movies, or any suspicions you may have about his beliefs, we can all agree he was highly imaginative and stopped at nothing to actualize his dreams.

So many of the stories Disney tells begin with some form of brokenness and move toward restoration.

Think about it. Mulan doesn’t meet her family’s or culture’s expectations. She has nothing to lose when her father, a disabled veteran, is drafted to fight for the empire. She steps in to save her family, and along the way, she saves China. Belle saves her father from a beast and prison, and in the end, helps the Beast break the curse over his kingdom. Ariel longs for a life different from the one she has and accepts a magical solution from Ursula that promises to give her what she wants.

The stories are different, and the solutions aren’t always magical, but the longing underneath them is familiar.

Something is broken, and the characters want it made right.

You and I are no different.

You may not know anything about Disney, but you know there’s brokenness and pain in your life, and you desperately want a solution. So easily, we look to the easiest, closest numbing agent around us to help bring some kind of relief, even if it’s only an escape for a few minutes.

Sometimes it’s a drink, a sweet treat, entertainment, another person, work, achievement, or some other source that promises it can provide everything we need.

And not all temporary relief is bad. Sometimes a vacation really is restorative. Sometimes laughing with people you love, eating something delicious, watching a movie, or walking down Main Street toward Cinderella Castle is simply a gift to enjoy.

The danger comes when we ask temporary relief to provide a kind of healing it was never capable of providing.

That’s what makes Jeremiah’s words so striking.

The leaders gave false assurance to the people that there was “peace,” healing the brokenness of the people superficially. God isn’t satisfied with superficial healing. He refuses to call something healed when it isn’t. He isn’t interested in soothing our minds with half-truths so we can numb the pain a little longer.

He is committed to truth.

Healing starts with truth, humility, and repentance.

The passage in Jeremiah tells us that the people were stubborn and ignored God. They suppressed the truth and numbed the symptoms with false assurances. Jeremiah laments, “Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then has not the health of the daughter of my people been restored?”

This is a rhetorical question.

God is with his people, so yes, there is a Physician. There is a balm.

The problem is that the people are committed to deceit.

Life is full of pivots, tragedy, disappointment, and brokenness. It’s only natural that we would reach for something to relieve the pain, like a crying infant who is cold, hungry, confused, or scared. We want something that will make everything feel okay again.

Sometimes we’re even willing to accept the quickest solution offered to us.

That didn’t work out particularly well in Ariel’s favor with the sea witch, Ursula. She had a real longing, but the solution she was offered came at a cost. What looked like the quickest path to getting what she wanted wasn’t capable of giving her what she truly needed.

We can do the same thing.

Scripture tells us that the truth will set you free (John 8:32). If we want to experience real healing, then we have to start with truth and allow the Physician to meet us with the balm that brings healing. We confess our hearts, our hurts, and our sin to God and to trusted people, allowing light to rush in and clear out dark spaces (James 5:16).

That doesn’t mean every wound disappears immediately or that every broken circumstance will be restored the way we want it to be. The road to healing isn’t fast. Sometimes it’s painful. Sometimes healing looks different than we expected.

But God will never offer us false peace.

He won’t call something whole when it’s broken or ask us to pretend something doesn’t hurt when it does. He meets us in truth and leads us toward the wholeness only he can ultimately provide.

There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a little Disney magic. I certainly did.

But eventually, the fireworks stop, the park closes, and we go home.

The good news is that our hope for healing doesn’t depend on keeping the magic alive. God offers us something better than an escape from reality. He meets us in reality, tells us the truth, and walks with us toward restoration.

Magic might give us a moment of relief.

But truth is where healing begins.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard people say the God of the Old Testament is filled with wrath and vengeance, and then suddenly, in the New Testament, He becomes a God of love—as if He changes over time. If I’m honest, I used to hold the same opinion. All I saw when reading the Old Testament was a throne room filled with a red haze, smoke, and a fiery-eyed, wrath-filled God who had every right to be angry with me. This version of God had a zero-tolerance policy for anything less than perfection, and somehow, I just couldn’t measure up—ever.

Everything changed when I read my Bible. That may sound funny, but when you read Scripture from beginning to end without cherry-picking passages, you begin to see a holistic picture of God. If I could reduce what I’ve discovered to one idea, it would be this: an infinite, majestic God, perfect in love and faithfulness, gives you what you want.

The Parable of the Sower is recorded in three of the Gospels, but Matthew’s account is the most significant for our purposes. Before diving in, let’s take notice of the components of the parable.

“And He told them many things in parables, saying, ‘Behold, the sower went out to sow; and as he sowed, some seeds fell beside the road, and the birds came and ate them up. Others fell on the rocky places, where they did not have much soil; and they sprang up immediately because they had no depth of soil. But after the sun rose, they were scorched; and because they had no root, they withered away. Others fell among the thorns, and the thorns came up and choked them out. But others fell on the good soil and yielded a crop, some a hundred, some sixty, and some thirty times as much.’”
—Matthew 13:3–8

Matthew 13:3–8 introduces the four primary components of the parable: the sower, the seed, the birds, and the four different types of soil. Later in the chapter, Jesus explains that the seed represents the word of God, the birds represent Satan, and the various soils represent the different conditions of the human heart.

The Soil Beside the Road

It’s interesting to consider that a sower would sow seeds in different types of soil, not to mention soil beside a road where the seed is exposed and trampled underfoot (Luke 8:5). My instinct was to question the sower. After all, shouldn’t they know better? Shouldn’t they know that seeds need cultivated soil, prepared for planting, in order to reap a harvest? My question assumes the sower’s intent is to reap a harvest; however, the goal of the sower is not merely to reap a harvest but to test—or prove—the soil. The parable isn’t meant to be an agricultural lesson; its significance is much greater. It’s a masterclass on the character of God and the human condition.

In this instance, the seed is sown on the soil beside the road. Consider the proximity of the human heart to the road. Most of us drive to work every day, and I don’t know about you, but I pass restaurants, businesses, and shops—opportunities for an economy to flourish. This daily reality was no different in ancient Israel. Roads connected towns and facilitated commerce and trade, providing opportunities for the economy to thrive.

Notice what happens to the seed. There’s no depth to the soil, it’s trampled underfoot, and the birds swoop in and steal it. We’re told the birds represent Satan; stealing is in his nature. After all, Jesus warns us in John 10:10a, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy.” But the thief can only steal what has been rejected and abandoned—what is exposed and left unattended.

Jesus draws our attention to the soil as a prophetic picture of the human heart beside the road. These are hearts that fail to obtain salvation because they never take hold of what is truly valuable. There is no room in the soil of their hearts for the Word to take root. Instead, they choose business, commerce, and the road most traveled over the kingdom of God.

The Rocky Soil

Can you think of someone who is easily persuaded by new ideas, gadgets, or fads, but fast-forward a year and the easily stored treadmill they purchased for their New Year’s resolution is collecting dust under the guest room bed? Maybe this isn’t a perfect picture of the rocky-soil heart, but it’s close.

Jesus tells us in Matthew 13:20–21, “The one sown with seed on the rocky places, this is the one who hears the word and immediately receives it with joy; yet he has no firm root in himself, but is only temporary, and when affliction or persecution occurs because of the word, immediately he falls away.”

This heart has enough room to receive the truth, but as soon as trials arise, it abandons the truth for what is comfortable. It never truly embraces the Word of God and allows it to transform life. Something prevents the seed from taking root and producing a harvest. The change is only temporary.

The Thorny Soil

The heart with thorny soil may be the most dangerous of the soils Jesus describes. This person is consumed with the cares of life and naively clings to the illusion that money, “caring,” and hard work can satisfy life’s deepest demands. Consider Mary and Martha in Luke 10—two women and two hearts: one anxious and distracted, the other seated at the feet of Jesus, receiving the word of God.

Luke records, “But Martha was distracted with all her preparations.” What was Martha anxious about? She was anxious to do the good thing, the right thing—to serve. Jesus responds to Martha’s plea for help by saying, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; but only one thing is necessary, for Mary has chosen the good part, which shall not be taken away from her.”

This is not an appeal to feel shame for serving, working hard, or acknowledging the demands of life. Shame, untethered from truth, is a thorn itself. Rather, this account serves as a beacon—a revelation that cultivates understanding and greater discernment. It’s almost as if Jesus, who is the way, the truth, and the life, is showing us what is truly good.

The Good Soil

Jesus tells us that the heart with good soil receives the word of God and clings to it, allowing the truth to take root, grow, and yield a harvest. When we compare the good-soil heart with the thorny, rocky, and roadside hearts, we find someone who is neither too busy nor too distracted to recognize the truth and rightly discern what is good. This heart is free from an unhealthy obsession with the world and its troubles. Instead, it is committed to cultivating its soil so that faith can flourish.

Part of Matthew’s account of the parable references Isaiah 6, where God commissions the prophet Isaiah to deliver a message to the people of Judah following the death of King Uzziah. It was not a pleasant message but a declaration of judgment because of the people’s rejection of God. Uzziah became king at the age of sixteen. Instructed by Zechariah in the ways of God, he initially did what was pleasing in the Lord’s sight. However, as Uzziah grew successful and powerful, he also became prideful. His pride ultimately contributed to Judah’s downfall because, as the saying goes, “As the king goes, so goes the people.”

Judah’s rejection of God’s word—and therefore of God Himself—produced hearts that were dull, deaf, and blind, resulting in destruction. The question isn’t whether the sower is willing to sow, but whether people will recognize, receive, and take hold of the truth. God is always faithful to give; He does not withhold any good thing (Psalm 84:11). As Jesus reminds us, “He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous” (Matthew 5:45).

As I studied the parable, I found myself wondering whether hearts could change. Can distant, distracted, hardened hearts become cultivated, fertile soil that receives the word of God? The answer is found throughout Scripture, beginning with Jesus’ words in Matthew 13:9: “The one who has ears, let him hear.” In Mark’s account of the parable, Jesus goes on to tell His disciples, “Take care what you listen to.” Pay attention. Consider what you hear. To the one who seeks understanding, more will be given; but to the one who disregards the word of God, even what little he has will be taken away.

Consider Jesus’ interaction with the leper in Matthew 8:

“When Jesus came down from the mountain, large crowds followed Him. And a man with leprosy came to Him and bowed down before Him, saying, ‘Lord, if You are willing, You can make me clean.’ Jesus reached out with His hand and touched him, saying, ‘I am willing; be cleansed.’ And immediately his leprosy was cleansed.”

The better question isn’t whether God is willing to heal. The better question is whether we are willing to change.

The image of a red, smoky throne room occupied by a nostrils-flared, angry God never truly existed. Isaiah 6 instead paints a breathtaking picture of the Lord enthroned in glory, the train of His robe filling the temple while the seraphim cry, “Holy, holy, holy.” From the moment Adam and Eve sinned to the death and resurrection of Jesus—and even today—God has always been willing to forgive, restore, and heal.

The cultivation of faith requires two willing participants: the willingness of the Sower to sow and the willingness of the hearer to receive. Throughout the story of Scripture, God proves His faithfulness again and again. The challenge for us is to step off the path most traveled, remove whatever hinders the truth from taking root, and cast our cares at the feet of God rather than allowing the thorns of this world to choke out His word. Cultivate the soil of your heart, and you will see a harvest—thirtyfold, sixtyfold, and a hundredfold.

God gives you what you want—the choice is yours.

I almost didn’t go to church this morning. I laid comfortably in bed with low-grade anxiety, phone in hand, doomscrolling with light bouts of laughter here and there. I noticed the more I scrolled, the more agitated and anxious I became. I couldn’t quite figure out why I felt sad, anxious, and burdened by a growing critical spirit. Once I had the slightest ounce of awareness of this growing anxiety, I stumbled to get off my phone and out from under the covers, greeted my Shepherd/Husky rescue pup who sat by my feet, and started getting ready.

Throughout the morning, I noticed the anxiety never left me, even after I hurled my phone onto my bed while I was in the bathroom. By the time I was ready, there was no time for a coffee stop on the way to church. I made it out the door with a self-poured iced coffee and began my 20-minute drive. I remained anxious but put on worship music, hoping that would help, and uttered a prayer: “Jesus, bring breakthrough.”

I arrived at church with just under three minutes to spare. I made my way closer to the front (old pastor’s kid habits die hard), and the drummer rattled the hi-hats and the lights lifted. The band started playing the first song, and the congregation joined in. The room seemed flat, like everyone was getting acclimated to the service, while my mind raced. I was singing, but I wasn’t worshipping.

I tend to be an overthinker, and my mind continued to race, making observations about the band, the people around me, and the reminder that I was supposed to worship God but wasn’t. The second song started, and I said another prayer: “Father, please help me. Please bring breakthrough.”

Seconds after I prayed, I heard the words I was singing and a gentle whisper in my spirit: “Are you listening?”

I had just sung that God was a good Father and that I’m loved by Him. That’s who I am. Immediately, my spirit lit up with the awareness that I’m loved by God. My countenance changed, my heart posture turned from participation to worship, and I sensed the atmosphere of the room shift with shouts of praise echoing from the man behind me.

We were invited to sit down as baptism began, and I started putting pen to paper. Have you ever received a breakthrough and, along with it, came a heavenly download of revelation? That’s what happened to me—I couldn’t stop writing.

As I wrote down the thoughts that poured out, I reflected on love. When I realized I was loved by God, I was able to have eyes and a heart to love my church, myself, and the people around me. God’s love changed everything. I realized this is where the good things grow.

The pastor invited us to open our Bibles to Psalm 145 and asked his dad to join him on stage to read the passage since it was Father’s Day. He nervously read, and when he got to verse 7, my ears perked up.

“Everyone will share the story of your wonderful goodness;
they will sing with joy about your righteousness.

The Lord is merciful and compassionate,
slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love.

The Lord is good to everyone.
He showers compassion on all His creation.”

Several points stood out to me in these verses, but a few key truths spoke directly to the anxiety I had experienced leading up to this moment and why I’m writing today.

Verse 8 tells us that “The Lord is merciful and compassionate, slow to get angry and filled with unfailing love.” I often lack mercy and compassion for myself and others and have lived much of my life with fear as a primary motivator rather than love. I often struggle with thinking the Lord is short-tempered, angry, and frustrated with me. Can anyone else relate?

All it took for my mind and spirit to change was the gentle whisper of God asking, “Are you listening?”

We are loved by God, and He is merciful and compassionate. Because we are loved by God, we can love Him, ourselves, and others.

As I sat in my chair writing down what was stirring in my spirit, I realized that having a proper view of God and walking in the truth of God’s love changes everything. Have you ever gone to church and started thinking critically of the leaders on stage or the staff? How about the band or worship leaders? What about those sitting next to you, or the ones who didn’t save you a seat or acknowledge your presence?

The list goes on: family, friends, work, coworkers, and more.

Fear is a powerful force. It can lead you to safety, but left unchecked, fear reveals a misplaced faith. “For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline” (2 Timothy 1:7).

Faith in anything other than God is trusting a lie that leads to death and disconnection. Fear fuses you to death, but love bonds you to God. “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you. Abide in my love” (John 15:9).

Abiding in God’s love leads our hearts to rest and eliminates fear and a critical spirit. God’s love allows you to “make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you” (Colossians 3:13). Love eliminates comparison, envy, and preference.

Abiding in God’s love is the soil for patience, long-suffering, kindness, and keeping no record of wrongs. Being proud, rude, or rejoicing in wrongdoing becomes impossible. Love is where the good things grow.

So, are you listening?

If you’ve struggled with anxiety and a critical spirit, feeling condemned by your thoughts and the enemy, here’s your reminder: God is love, and there is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1).

You are loved. Abide in the soil of God’s love and watch the good things grow.