More of you


“More of You, less of me.”


Every single morning lately, this has been my prayer. It’s such a simple phrase, yet it has the power to completely shift the posture of my heart and the perspective of my day.


• Dealing with a stressful situation at work…more of You, less of me. 
• When life feels like turmoil…more of You, less of me.
• When insecurities as a mom and wife start eating me alive…more of You, less of me. 
• When someone hurts my feelings or upsets me…more of You, less of me. 


I think when I get so wound up in life’s problems and disappointments, I slowly stop putting Him first. I lose sight of the truth that I am not on this earth to build my own kingdom….I am here to serve His.


While He already knows the desires of my heart, I’ve been asking the Lord to help my heart’s desires align with His will, not the other way around.


Lately, it feels like the Lord has been doing some pruning in my life. And pruning is uncomfortable. It feels like loss, pressure, and things being stripped away that I didn’t even realize I was holding onto. But pruning isn’t meant to push us away — it’s meant to draw us closer. It slows us down and reminds us that we were never meant to carry everything on our own. When things are cut away, we’re left with fewer places to run and more reason to rest in Him. It gently turns our hearts back to the Vine, where true strength and peace are found.


Scripture tells us, “He prunes every branch that bears fruit so that it may bear even more fruit”.


At the same time, I’ve been reminded that seasons like this are when roots matter most. When everything feels dry and heavy, shallow faith won’t sustain us. Only deep roots in Him will. Roots grow in the dark. They grow unseen. They grow when nothing on the surface looks impressive.


And while valleys often teach us to turn to Him, we are also called to seek “more of You, less of me” in the mountains. When life feels good, when prayers are answered, when blessings are visible, surrender must still be intentional. He deserves our dependence in every season, not just the hard ones.


So while 2026 hasn’t been especially kind so far. Not because of one major event, but because of a million little things that have quietly drained the joy from my heart. I’m choosing to believe that God is doing a deeper work.


I’m also reminded that the pruning and the rooting are never just for us. What God grows in the hidden places eventually becomes our testimony. The valleys, the waiting, the cutting back — all of it shapes a story He will one day use to help others come to know Jesus.


That is our life’s mission: to live in a way that points people to Him. Not through perfection, but through obedience. Not through striving, but through abiding.


Less of me clinging to control.
More of Him producing fruit.


Even if I can’t see it yet, I trust that what He is pruning and what He is rooting will one day bring forth something far more beautiful than what I would have chosen for myself. Not just for me, but for His glory.

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