Let’s be honest.

Easter can feel like a spiritual exhale.

You made it through Lent.
You showed up on Sunday.
The room was full, the music was loud, and the message hit just right.

Then Monday came.
And it felt… normal.

Back to the inbox.
Back to the routine.
Back to the unresolved things you didn’t leave at the tomb.

But resurrection was never meant to be a one-day event.
It’s a rhythm we’re invited to live.

Let’s be honest.

Fasting can get weird fast.

What starts as a spiritual practice can easily slip into performance.
A hunger strike for holiness.
A secret scoreboard we’re not supposed to admit we’re keeping.

You skip the meal, but deep down, you hope God is noticing.

You say no to food — or screens — or noise —
But quietly wonder if your sacrifice is “enough.”
If maybe this will finally unlock a breakthrough.
If maybe now He’ll show up.

But fasting was never meant to be a way to get God’s attention.
It’s a way to give Him yours.

Let’s be honest.

Sometimes prayer feels like one more thing you should do but can’t quite bring yourself to start. Especially when you’re tired.
Not just physically tired — but soul-tired.
Decision-fatigued. Emotionally drained. Spiritually dry.

Maybe you’ve been there:

• You sit in silence and feel… nothing.

• You try to pray and your mind spirals.

• You can’t string together words without it sounding forced or fake.

And in those moments, the temptation is to believe prayer doesn’t “count” unless you’re alert, articulate, and fully engaged.

There’s this subtle pressure that creeps into our faith sometimes — the kind that tells us if we’re not praying “enough,” reading scripture “right,” or fasting “correctly,” then it doesn’t count. Maybe we don’t say it out loud, but it lingers in our inner critic, in the guilt that rises when we fall asleep during prayer or forget which gospel we’re in.

But spiritual practices were never meant to be performance-based. They’re not spiritual auditions for God’s approval. They’re invitations into relationship — into presence. And good relationships, the kind that grow and last, don’t require perfection. They require intention.