Invisible String

March 4, 2026

Jeremiah 18:1-11, 18-20  | Matt 20:17-28 |   Psalm 31: 9-16

14 But as for me, I have trusted in you, O Lord. *
I have said, “You are my God.

 

15 My times are in your hand; *
rescue me from the hand of my enemies,
and from those who persecute me.

 

16 Make your face to shine upon your servant, *
and in your loving-kindness save me.”

This Lent feels different for me this year. I’m at college now, living in a new rhythm where Sundays don’t always look the way they used to. Back home, I was at church every Sunday . Most  Sundays I stream the service from my dorm room, half-awake and still in sweatpants. It feels different from sitting in a pew or singing in the choir or even up front acolyte, being fully present instead of halfway distracted by notifications or assignments waiting to be finished.  Lately my life has been late nights working on homework or hanging out with my friends and going to my club meetings. My life has been so busy. I’ve started to see how easy it is for faith to drift into the background. And yet, when I read the words, “You are my God… my times are in your hand,” I feel both convicted and comforted  because even in this inconsistent, in-between season, I am still held.

I keep thinking about the idea of an invisible string, something steady and unseen that connects where I am now to where I’ve been, and even to where I’m going. College feels scattered sometimes, like a series of disconnected moments: missed Sundays, streamed services, rushed prayers before exams. But maybe none of it is random. Maybe God’s hand has been gently threading through all of it, even when I haven’t been fully paying attention. Even when I feel spiritually inconsistent, there is still something holding me fast, a quiet, faithful presence tying this version of me to the girl who once sat faithfully in a pew every Sunday.

Catherine Pilkington