Even Here, Even Now – God Is Still Good

There are mornings, Mama, when the world feels like it’s splitting at the seams — headlines ache, tempers flare, the earth groans, and you can almost feel the fracture under your feet.

And yet, the light still spills slow across the kitchen floor.

The coffee brews. The child laughs.

Hope hums quiet between the cracks.

You stand at the sink and whisper it — half-prayer, half-plea — God is still good.

Not because the world feels steady, but because His heart never wavers.

Because even when everything shakes, mercy still rises — soft as dawn, sure as breath.

Maybe this is the gospel we pass down when the world feels hard —not that faith makes life easy, but that love makes it possible to keep showing up anyway.

We can tell our children that God’s goodness isn’t something fragile that breaks under the weight of the world.

It’s the goodness that kneels — hands muddy, heart open — to bind up wounds, to share bread, to hold on to one another when the wind howls through what’s left.

Maybe we show them that being the hands and feet of Jesus isn’t grand or loud —it’s the casserole dropped off at the neighbor’s door, the whispered prayer in the grocery aisle, the quiet giving when no one sees.

Because this is what it means to live like we believe —that goodness still grows in the soil of sorrow, that grace still seeps through the cracks, that light still leaks through every broken thing.

So when the world quakes and questions rise, we gather them close and say:

“Even here, even now — God is still good. And we can still be His love.”