Monday of Holy Week: Seam Ripping and Sacred Rage

Undoing what no longer fits to make space for something beautiful

Psalm 40:1–3
“God drew me up from the desolate pit… and put a new song in my mouth.”

I’ve had to rip some things out of my life lately. Big, emotional seams. The kind where you sit with your seam ripper and say, “I really thought this would hold.” Letting go—of people, of patterns, of beliefs that no longer serve—takes time. It takes discernment. But it also creates space. By removing what doesn’t fit, I’ve begun to stitch together something better: a theology of affirmation, a life that is still unfinished, but so beautiful it might take a whole lifetime to complete.

And sometimes, it’s not just about letting go—it’s about speaking up. I’ve felt that righteous anger lately—the kind that rises when you’re overlooked or not fully seen. It’s easy to brush that off, to keep the peace. But sometimes the Spirit stirs with fire, not just comfort. I’ve learned there’s a holy way to flip tables. Not with cruelty, but with clarity. A way to say, “I deserve better,” without apology. To name the wound while still leaving the door open. Because sometimes, calling out what’s broken is the first step toward healing. It clears the ground—not just for justice, but for grace, for forgiveness, for deeper relationship. It makes space for something sacred to take root, and maybe, even bloom.

I remember once spending five hours unpicking a misaligned Celtic knot I had embroidered into a quilt. Five hours. But if I hadn’t, the whole thing would’ve looked off.

Double Irish chain quilt with embroidered Celtic knots—made with love, patience, and a seam ripper.

Sometimes the only way to honor the beauty of what you’re building is to take the time to undo what doesn’t belong. And when everything does line up—when the seams meet and the points are precise—it’s a feeling that almost makes the world feel whole again.

This is what a new song looks like for me now: falling in love with all of me, not just the parts others find easy to accept. Refusing to let anyone pick and choose which pieces are worthy of love. I’m not here to be edited down. I’m here to become—the version of myself God dreamed into being. Psalm 40 reminds me that God pulls us out of the pit and sets our feet on solid ground. And right now, that feels like a reset. The storm has passed. The mud is drying. The sun is rising again. And I’m ready to walk forward—whole, worthy, and singing something entirely new.

A Benediction for the Ones Unpicking and Becoming

May the One who holds all your loose threads
bless your unraveling and your re-stitching.
May she guide your hands when the seams won’t line up,
and soften your spirit when you’re tempted to give up.

May you have the courage to rip out what no longer serves,
and the grace to believe that beauty still waits ahead.

May you trust that God is pulling you up from the pit,
laying down solid ground beneath your feet,
and humming a new song for you to sing—
one stitched with love, sung in your voice,
and written just for you.

Amen.