"I Can’t Love This Until It’s Better"

Myth: I’ll love my life when it changes.

Truth: You can love it while it’s changing.

Sometimes we treat joy like it’s on layaway.

When I lose weight.

When the kids are older.

When we move.

When the dream finally happens.

Then, and maybe only then, we give ourselves permission to love our life.

But what if joy isn’t waiting on the other side of change? What if joy is something we’re freed to hold even here?

If we were always comfortable, would we feel the need for a Comforter?

Loving your life doesn’t mean you love everything about it. It means you learn to see God in it even before the breakthrough.

The gospel doesn’t promise us a pain-free life; it promises us a present God. Immanuel. God with us.

Not just in the holy moments or the highlight reels. But in the tension. The laundry piles. The doctor’s offices. The waiting rooms. The disappointments. The days we feel out of place—because this world really isn’t our forever home.

Look at Paul and Silas, who worshiped in a prison cell before they saw the miracle (see Acts 16). Or the Israelites, who were commanded to celebrate Passover while still enslaved in Egypt because joy wasn’t a response to freedom, it was a declaration of faith that God was already moving (see Exodus 12).

And Jesus. He didn’t come to perfect our lives. He came to be present in them. He walked dusty roads, wept over death, shared meals with the overlooked, and was tired, hungry, and misunderstood—not to avoid the ache of earth, but to enter it. And in doing so, He made it holy.

Because of Him, we can stop holding our breath for heaven and start inhaling the beauty of what is, even in its brokenness.

When you know this world isn’t your final stop, you’re freed to love it without clinging to it. You can say, “This isn’t all there is,” and still say, “Thank You for this day.” You can love your life without demanding it be flawless—because your Savior already carried the weight of perfection for you.

And one day, He will return and make all things new. But until then, He makes your life new, bit by bit—in the kitchen, in the carpool line, in the quiet grief, in the daily yes. The gospel isn’t just your rescue. It’s your invitation to live—joyfully, fully, freely—because He’s already here.

Joy is not the reward at the end of your journey. It’s the evidence that God is present now.

You don’t have to wait until it’s better to love your life.

You can love it now—because Jesus is in it.

A few things to ponder:

• Where in your life are you tempted to hold back from love, joy, or celebration until things improve?
• What would change if you saw God’s presence as the breakthrough—not the circumstances?
• How has the gospel made space for you to live with joy even in the tension?