From What You Have: Beginning Again When Worship Feels Empty
Begin Again: Why Willingness is Worship
Everyone else was cheering as my husband was inducted into his new role.
Everyone, that is, except me.
I was sobbing. Big fat, snot-sniffing, can’t-quite-breathe ugly crying. Hollowed out from two-plus years of ‘will-we-won’t-we’ and the exhausting move from one side of the world to the other. While others smiled with hope, seeing the answer to their wait in the form of my husband, I felt the weight of transition pressing into my chest.
Ever felt similar?
You’re physically in church, but emotionally, you checked out long ago. You’re showing up to the service, but spiritually there’s a disconnect and you just feel… numb.
It’s easy in those moments to wonder:
What do I bring to God when I feel this empty?
Friends, it’s a big fat lie that says you have to muster up more energy, more faith, more something before you can come to God. That if you don’t arrive with abundance, you’re somehow failing at being the good Christian guy or girl.
On those Sundays when my feelings don’t match where I’d like my faith to be, I take a lot of comfort in God’s invitation to the Israelites:
“From what you have, take an offering for the Lord. Everyone who is willing is to bring the Lord an offering...”
Exodus 35:5 (NIV)
From what you have.
If you’re willing.
That’s it.
The people of Israel are in the wilderness. They’ve just come out of Egypt, and they’re certainly not living in luxury. They’re wanderers without land, schedule, or certainty. And yet, God invites them to participate in building His sanctuary.
They weren’t asked to go out and get more. They weren’t told to wait until they felt spiritually ready. They were simply invited to bring from what they already had—and only if their hearts were willing.
God isn’t asking you to craft something out of thin air. He’s not waiting for you to feel a certain way before He’ll accept you. He invites you to offer what’s already in your grasp—even when it feels painfully small.
In displaced in-between seasons often all I’ve had are tears.
No energy. No words. Just an exhausted, honest heart.
And yet, even tears can be your offering.
What if that’s all God’s looking for today?
If all you have is a whisper, bring it.
If all you have is a weary heart, offer it.
If all you have is silence, let it become your sacred space.
Worship begins with willingness, not perfection, not performance, not poetic prayers expertly crafted, not abundance.
Willingness. To begin again. To come again. To show up again. To persist again. To trust again. To let God be God in your life… again.
When we offer God what we have, even if it feels insufficient, it can become the starter for divine multiplication. Not because of the thing itself, but because of the One who receives it.
Small things, when surrendered to a big God, become sacred.
Which means this:
Your quiet faith is enough.
Your hidden tears are seen.
Your faltering prayers are powerful.
Your showing up and beginning again—however weary—is worship.
So shall we collectively agree to take the pressure off? To stop beating ourselves over our backs when we’re not feeling it? To remember again that actually, our intimacy with Father God was never dependent on what we brought to the table anyway? Shall we agree to take a breath and celebrate that the heart is willing even if the emotions numbed out? Let’s stop waiting to be ‘enough’ before we begin again.
Let’s choose to marvel instead that we’re invited, invited, to be part of what God is building in and through us. Not in our own strength, not with abundance and overflow, but from what we have, right where we are, for His glory in Jesus’ name. He wants to build His sanctuary aka, He wants to build you, His bride, the Church. And you’re a vital part of that regardless of how shiny or spectacular you may or may not feel.
So this weekend, begin again. Go to church. Approach His throne as you are, knowing that you’re welcomed by the King of Kings. Rely on His strength and power. Give Him your loaves and fish, your tears and trials, and watch as He multiplies and does the impossible with your willing heart and what you have.
Lord, I come to You with what I have.
Not what I wish I had. Not what others expect of me. Just the truth of this moment.
Take my tears, my silence, my weariness.
Let it be worship.
Let it be enough.
And help me begin again—
not in striving, but in surrender.
In Jesus’ name, amen.
Let’s chat and grow together:
What do you have in your hands right now—even if it feels small—that you can offer to God today?
If this devotion met you in a tender place, I’d love to hear from you. You can reply, share, or pass this along to someone who needs it.
And if you’re looking for a fresh way to begin again with God this coming year, make sure you’re subscribed so you don’t miss what’s next.
Grace for the next step,
Em 💛
Ready to Begin Again in 2026?
If this devotion stirred something in you, I’d love to invite you to journey even deeper.
My new devotional, 31 Days of Beginning Again, was written for anyone who’s ever needed a fresh start—not just once, but over and over. Whether you’re navigating transition, recovering from burnout, or simply longing for a do-over with God, this book is a companion for the quiet, courageous work of starting again.
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Let’s begin again—together—in the new year.
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Thank you, Em. I have been in raw places and filled with fear. God wants our honesty. I understand better what "I bring a sacrifice of praise into the house of the Lord" means when I'm in the pit.
I heard about a group of POWs having a worship service and picturing putting themselves in the offering plate - this visualization has an impact.
I have hope that there is a plan for me ……