The Mighty Tenderness of God

     There are times in life when the strength of God feels unmistakable. We read the stories in Scripture and see His power so clearly – seas parting in Exodus, storms stilled just at the sound of His voice. He is mighty, and absolutely nothing stands outside His reach.

     But there are other moments too. Quieter ones. Moments when the heart is tired and grief sits heavy, when even the simplest prayer feels like too much. 

     Does anyone else know that feeling? 

     In those places, we don’t need the God who shakes the earth. We need the God who sits beside us. The God who stays close and who holds us gently. And the beautiful thing is – He wants to. He isn’t reluctant or distant. He delights in drawing near to His children, especially when we have nothing left to offer but our tired selves. His strength is made perfect in weakness, after all (2 Corinthians 12:9-10). When we come undone, He doesn’t step back. He comes closer than ever. 

     I’ve walked through losses that have shaped me in ways I didn’t expect. Some people knew about them; others I kept between my heart and God, settling on the pages of my private journal. Time and time again I’ve learned the same thing: God's strength and tenderness aren’t opposites. Both come from the very same heart – His. And I don’t know about you, but there are lessons I seem to need more than once. They come from different angles but are still the same truth. Slowly sinking into my soul.

     There are days when I need Him to be strong for me, to carry what I can’t. Days where He reminds me that rather than wrestling, I could stop, breathe, and hand over what I can't control. I tell myself I should know this, but I still need reminding that darkness doesn’t get the final word. 

     And then there are days when I need Him to be gentle – to sit with me in the ache and hold the grief without rushing it. I love the patience God has with me. He reminds me that I’m not alone, even when I feel lost. There are in-between days too, when I’m not even sure what I need, or when what I think I need isn’t actually what’s best. But He knows; He always knows, and He meets me there too.

     His strength and gentleness are both true of Him; they’re both part of who He is. Both are grace – the kind that meets you where you are and stays. Oh yes, He stays. 

     The following poem grew out of that place. I wanted to capture both His mighty strength and His gentle grace within the same breath – power and kindness together. One heart, both gifts.

Fluorescent Sky  

He thunders through the storm’s wild cry, 

Yet shelters me beneath His wing.  

A clash of glory lights the sky – 

Softened by grace, His mercies sing.  

He splits the sea with sovereign power, 

Then cups the sparrow in His hand. 

A field of tender white flowers blooms 

where I learn to trust and stand.  

His breath shakes Heaven’s trembling blue, 

Yet warms the coldest grief I bear. 

I feared I wandered far from home – 

Yet He was still beside me there.  

Strength that breaks the iron chains, 

And gentleness that binds the heart.  

He is the fire that guards the plains, 

The hush where quiet grace can start.  

The fluorescent sky begins to clear;

New things arise, as He foretold. 

Though I was hidden, lost in fear, 

His promises still unfold.  

So I can sing through thunder’s tumultuous roar,  

And rest where silence meets the waiting shore; 

Because His fingers trace the windswept sand – 

The path that leads me to His open hand. 

     When we begin to see God is strong enough to carry us and gentle enough to hold us, something settles inside. We realise we’re not held by a distant God but by a Father who knows how to look after His children. One moment He stills the sea; the next He leans in to comfort a hurting heart. He won’t hurry you, won’t abandon you, and will never change His mind about you.

     If you're grieving or waiting, may you meet this God – the One who thunders and then whispers, who holds the whole world and still holds you. 

     He is mighty. 

     He is tender. 

     And He's ever so near.

About the Author  

Heide is a wife and mother, author and poet, whose writing explores faith, grief, and the tender ways God meets us in the real places of life. She seeks to honour the stories people carry, give language to the aches that often stay unspoken, and offer hope to those walking through seasons of waiting or loss. Her desire is that each reader would sense God’s nearness and find room to breathe, even when life feels rough.

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