When a promise feels too big to carry alone

There are moments when God places something in our hearts that feels far bigger than our understanding. A calling. A promise. A season that doesn’t yet make sense.

Scripture reminds us that even Mary, who was chosen to carry the Savior of the world, felt the weight of that reality.

Luke 1:39 tells us, “At that time Mary got ready and hurried to a town in the hill country of Judea.”

She didn’t isolate herself. She didn’t try to carry the promise alone. She ran to Elizabeth.That detail has always mattered to me, because my instinct, when things feel tender or confusing, is often to pull back. To protect my heart. To process privately. But Mary shows us a different way: she moved toward safe community before everything made sense.

Elizabeth, too, was carrying a miracle, one that had come after years of waiting and wondering if God had forgotten her. When these two women met, something holy happened. Joy leapt. Faith was affirmed. Blessing overflowed before either miracle had fully come to pass.

This sacred friendship gives us a powerful picture of what it looks like when women walk together with spiritual awareness. Elizabeth didn’t question Mary’s story. She didn’t minimize the mystery or demand clarity. Instead, she spoke life into Mary’s calling, declaring, “Blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her!” (Luke 1:45).

I think about how hard that kind of response can be sometimes. I’ve walked through seasons where someone else’s calling or opportunity brushed right up against my own insecurities. There was a time in my previous career when a woman close to me stepped into something I deeply wanted. God was clearly opening doors for her, but if I’m honest, my first response wasn’t celebration. It was comparison. Jealousy. The quiet fear that maybe her “yes” meant my “no.” I had to learn, slowly and humbly, how to show up like Elizabeth. To bless instead of compete, to recognize God’s hand in her story without assuming He had forgotten mine. And in that process, God did something just as meaningful in me. He loosened my grip on comparison and taught me that calling is not a limited resource.

Elizabeth didn’t have to respond the way she did, but she chose to. And I think that choice often grows out of being loved well ourselves. I am so grateful that the Lord has brought me friendships at just the right time. Women who choose to celebrated me when I felt unsure, who spoke encouragement when I was tempted to shrink back. In seasons when I needed cheering more than advice, God gave me friends who showed up with joy and generosity. Those experiences changed me. They taught me what kind of friend I want to be and what kind of presence I want to offer others. This type of friendship is such a gift!

So often, we are tempted to wait until things are clearer or more presentable before inviting others into our lives. But Mary reminds us that faith-filled community is not something we earn after the miracle; it’s something God provides during the waiting.

That truth became painfully real again in a season of secondary infertility and loss. It really is mind-blowing how sometimes you can get pregnant quickly the first time, but the second time around it becomes your Everest. Praying month after month, getting that positive, and painfully enduring recurring losses, while friends around me seemed to get pregnant with ease. Baby announcements came quickly. Due dates stacked up. And I had to decide over and over again whether I would isolate in my disappointment or stay present in community. Some days, being an “Elizabeth” felt impossible. Other days, I desperately needed one. And God met me there, not always with answers, but with women who sat with me in the waiting and reminded me that delayed does not mean denied.

And then God met us there. Our rainbow baby was a constant reminder that God was present in every prayer, every loss, every month we thought we couldn’t endure again. That season taught me that God’s timing is not cruel, even when it’s painful, and that His promises are not undone by delay. That journey also reshaped the way I understand friendship. It taught me that spiritual community isn’t built on having the right words or perfect faith, but on presence. On choosing to stay, to speak hope carefully, and to trust that God is at work even when the outcome is still unknown. To be seen, to be affirmed, to have someone walk alongside us, that is how God often shows His faithfulness before the miracle even appears. And it’s a gift we can extend to others in return, offering hope and encouragement in the midst of uncertainty.

In this season, may we be women who both seek out and offer this kind of friendship. Women who listen with discernment. Who celebrate faith before fulfillment. Who name God’s hand at work when it’s easier to doubt than believe. And may we walk together with expectation, trusting that even when we don’t fully understand what God is doing, He is growing something beautiful in each of us.

Because sometimes the greatest encouragement doesn’t come from answers, but from a friend who says, “I see God in this, and I see Him in you.”