Shaken for a Purpose

I’ve been waiting for today for months.

Not the waiting where you casually circle a date on the calendar and forget about it until the week of. The kind of waiting where it sits in the back of your mind while you’re folding laundry, driving carpool, answering emails—because you already know what’s coming is holy.

Tonight, my Bible study special guest is my mom.

I can’t even say that without smiling.

When I first started preparing to lead this study, I did what I always do—I read through the book start to finish with a pen in hand, highlighting, underlining, writing little “YES” notes in the margins like I was talking back to the page.

But when I hit two particular chapters, I stopped.

Not because I didn’t like them.

Because they felt… too familiar.

Like someone had put language to something I’ve watched play out in real life.

I grabbed my phone and texted my mom:

“Will you please be my guest for this? I need you to tell your story.”

She texted back almost immediately:

“Yes, I will.”

And I sat there for a minute, just holding my phone, feeling that mix of gratitude and weight—because there are stories that inspire you… and then some stories mark you.

My mom’s story is one of the ones that marked me.

And if I’m being honest, it’s one of my favorites—not because it’s easy, but because it’s true.

Because if there is anybody I know who had every reason to be angry, bitter, closed off, and unforgiving—it’s her.

And yet, she chose the opposite.

Over and over.

The Kind of Faith You Can’t Fake

When I think back on my childhood, I don’t remember a perfect life. I remember a mom who was anchored.

Even as a kid, I could sense it: my mom’s foundation was on something solid.

Not on outcomes.

Not on comfort.

Not on what other people thought.

Not even on what she felt.

It was built on Jesus.

That sounds like the “right” thing to say in a Christian blog post—but I don’t mean it as a slogan. I mean it as survival. I mean it as the only explanation for how someone can go through repeated betrayal, deep loss, and life-altering heartbreak… and somehow still come out tender.

Still loving.

Still believing.

Still whole.

Because the storms of life absolutely blew through our family.

And the enemy did what he loves to do—he tried to destroy.

He tried to divide.

He tried to weaken what was already wounded.

He tried to convince us that pain meant God wasn’t good.

But that’s not what happened.

Not because our family was strong.Because my mom’s faith was.

Shaken Doesn’t Always Mean Destroyed

There’s this assumption we make when life starts shaking:

“If things are falling apart, God must be punishing me.”

Or—

“If it hurts this badly, something must be wrong with me.”

But I’ve watched shaking up close. I’ve watched it in real time. And what I learned from my mom is this:

Not every shaking is punishment.

Sometimes it is formation.

Not because God authored the sin—but because He refuses to waste it.

That sentence holds the tension perfectly.

Because God is not the author of betrayal. He is not the creator of evil. He is not the one who whispers lies, destroys trust, or breaks homes.

But God is the One who redeems.

He is the One who takes what the enemy meant to fracture and uses it to form.

He is the One who makes a battlefield become a birthplace.

And when I think about what “shaking” actually does, I see five purposes written all over her story.

1. Shaking Brings You Back to the Foundation

When something is loose, shaking exposes whether it’s anchored.

Storms don’t create the foundation. They reveal it.

My mom’s life was shaken in ways that would have knocked most people out permanently. And what it exposed wasn’t perfection—it was a real foundation.

A Rock.

I watched her cling to Jesus when clinging felt like the last thing she had strength to do.

And I learned early: if you build your life on comfort, the first storm will take everything.

But if you build your life on Christ, storms may hit you… but they can’t own you.

2. Shaking Removes What’s Dead

Shaking sifts.

It separates what’s real from what’s hollow.

There were things my mom had to let fall away—pride, false security, the need to be understood by people who didn’t want to understand, the desire to control what could not be controlled.

And I saw this: God didn’t just restore her life. He refined her heart.

Some things only die when you stop carrying them.

And sometimes God lets the shaking do the releasing.

3. Shaking Harvests What’s Ripe

This one still gets me.

Because some fruit only shows up under pressure.

I watched patience grow where bitterness could have lived.

I watched endurance form where quitting would have made sense.I

watched humility take root where resentment was justified.

Shaking didn’t reveal her weakness as much as it revealed her maturity.

It exposed fruit I didn’t even know could grow in a person.

4. Shaking Awakens You

Shaking interrupts autopilot.

It makes you pay attention.

It forces questions you’ve avoided. It exposes what you’ve been numbing. It wakes you up—not just to pain, but to reality.

And sometimes, awakening is the kindness of God.

Because you can’t heal what you won’t face.

5. Shaking Unifies What You Believe With How You Live

This is where everything changes.

Because faith isn’t proven in what you post or what you say—it’s proven in what you do when life is unstable.

And this is where I think 1 Peter says it better than any of us ever could:

“Clothe yourselves… with humility… Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God… casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:5–7)

That’s not a verse for pretty days.

That’s a verse for shaking days.

It’s for the moment when you realize, “I cannot carry this.”

And you choose humility—not as a weakness, but as a surrender to the mighty hand of God.

You cast the anxiety.

You release the weight.

You refuse the lie that you’re alone.

Because He cares.

So tonight, when my mom shares her story, it won’t just be inspirational.

It will be proof.

Proof that the enemy can attack—but he doesn’t get the final word.Proof that betrayal can devastate—but it doesn’t have to define you.Proof that storms can blow through your life—and still, you can stand.

What was meant to separate, destroy, or divide… God used to anchor, refine, awaken, and strengthen.

And I know that’s true because I watched it happen.

Not from a distance.

From the front row.

My Prayer

Jesus,

For the one reading this who feels like everything is shaking, give them clarity.

Show them what’s real. Shake loose what is dead. Strengthen what remains.

Anchor them back to You—the only foundation that holds.

Teach us humility under Your mighty hand.

And help us cast every anxiety on You, not as a spiritual phrase, but as a real act of surrender—because You care for us.

Redeem what has been broken.

Restore what has been stolen.

And let the shaking become formation, not destruction.

Amen.