Fulfilled by Faith: A Yearning Only God Could Satisfy!

The thing about surrender is that it doesn’t always start with clarity. Sometimes, it begins with yearning—a deep desire that you don’t yet understand needs to be released. For me, this yearning was for a friendship that felt like home.

This struggle reminds me of Proverbs 3:5-6, which says:

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight."

These verses remind us to stop relying on our limited perspective. Building conviction around this truth means pausing in the midst of our frustration to declare, "Lord, I don’t understand this now, but I trust You." This trust is an act of surrender, a choice to believe that God’s plan is greater than our own. I remember when I first learned this lesson in a way that deeply transformed me.

I had always thrived in community. Growing up, I played sports and had a close circle of friends. Even as those friendships shifted after I became a Christian, I maintained a deep love for the people I’d grown up with. I loved being surrounded by friends, and those relationships often brought me joy and laughter. But my church experience felt different. Although I was surrounded by kind and generous people, I felt out of place. I was usually younger than most of the women, or we didn’t share similar interests that could take our conversations beyond surface level. I prayed for a year straight, but despite my prayers, nothing changed.

That yearning turned into frustration, and eventually, I stopped asking. Instead, I focused on my relationship with God, leaning on Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Iliana Dawson, Guest Contributor: Trust God and Drink Tea

This scripture grounded me, reminding me that God’s plans were still unfolding even when I couldn’t see them. But the journey wasn’t easy. I often felt isolated, unable to voice my struggles or doubts within my church community. There were moments I wanted to share concerns about the red flags I saw, but I hesitated. I didn’t have the kind of close, spiritual sisterhood that would allow for that kind of honesty. Instead, I reminded myself that faith is personal—something I had to work out on my own, even if it felt lonely.

And then, an old high school friend reached out. This was someone I had known since we were freshmen. Back then, we were both naive, living with no discernment, and making reckless decisions. We ran around the streets of Chicago, lying to our parents about where we were going, meeting boys, and getting into situations we had no business being in. As we grew older, we began to value ourselves more but still lived with very worldly priorities.

When we were 21 and 22, she moved back from London, and we started hanging out more often. At that time, neither of us had committed our lives to Christ. We were both deeply focused on hustling for money, to the point that I was working three jobs, sometimes staying out until 4 a.m., and then taking my son to daycare by 9 a.m. No one else in my life knew the extent to which I idolized this lifestyle—except her. She was my confidant in that season, someone who understood my grind and mirrored it in her own life. Our friendship back then was rooted in support, but it wasn’t what you’d call healthy. We both worked jobs that left us emotionally drained, lived paycheck to paycheck, and spent money irresponsibly. We were in noncommittal relationships and chasing dreams without direction. At the same time, my other friendships were filled with fun but shallow experiences—partying, drinking, or smoking. These friendships gave me moments of laughter and familiarity but lacked depth.

When I began studying the Bible, I didn’t anticipate that it would change everything about our friendship. She reached out to me because she wanted to know more about God, and she believed I could explain it in a way that made sense. That summer, we spent countless hours pouring over the Scriptures together, going beyond the surface-level conversations we used to have. We talked about God’s Word, our struggles, and our dreams in ways we never had before. As her faith grew, so did mine.

By the end of that summer, I had the honor of baptizing her. In that moment, watching her come up out of the water, I realized how deeply God had transformed not only her heart but also our friendship. The young, reckless girls we once were had become women revering God together. What we had before—fun, loyalty, and trust—was now infused with something far greater: a shared faith, a purpose, and a bond stronger than anything we’d experienced in the world.

This brings to mind Ephesians 3:20, which says: "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us."

God didn’t just answer my prayer; He exceeded it. Through this experience, I learned that surrender isn’t about giving up. It’s about letting go of our expectations to make room for something greater. When we stop trying to control the narrative, we allow God to write a story more beautiful than we could ever imagine. He’s the ultimate storyteller, weaving together threads we don’t even see. And when we surrender—when we truly let go—we give Him the space to create something extraordinary.

Love,

Iliana

Guest Contributor: Iliana Dawson is a devoted mother of three who embraces the beauty in life’s chaos. By day, she thrives as a dedicated marketing professional, and by passion, she is a skilled freelance digital strategist, helping brands build meaningful connections. Beyond her career, Iliana leads a monthly women’s group for Christian women, weaving together faith, wellness, and community to inspire growth and holistic well-being.