Photo by kangbch /

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
     the flames will not set you ablaze.
~ Isaiah 43:2

Perseverance is the song of an exiled believer

One who clenches onto hope

When everything else has been swept away

It can be a journey from the barren depths

It can be forest filled with disappointment

It can be a candle almost burned out in the windowsill of the unknown

It may seem unending.

A continuous laying down of foundations

In communities of displacement, trauma and personal and spiritual poverty

It is easy to think maybe perseverance

Is not my call

Pulling on your faith feels like a waterfall of dominos

Spilling outside of your own control

With shame on your back

A spine already bent by the darkest injustices,

It can seem more convenient  to sit in the shadows where you can be unseen

And let your convictions become less relevant

But, no, this is the very moment to take up your bed and walk.

To trust in the simple truths:

The first burst of pink cherry blooms, a brilliant blue sky and the stillness found in a cup of tea.

Maybe it’s time to return, even if crawling, to the plight our Mighty God calls us to

And remember that we do not have to work against the enemy with our own callused hands


In His name all oppression shall cease

Maybe it’s time to sit at the feet of Jesus with arms  open to His bright light,

Let it be the flame that charges the story He is already written about our lives, our families and our  community.

To see perseverance as the product of your faith, so when you feel undone, alone

And overwhelmed, know that you are just a few steps away from the mountain top

And know that those footsteps leave fertile ground for  seeds of truth and love to


That your soul carries the fire that makes oceans part

That your brokenness is a thread in the tapestry making you whole

So rise…rise because beyond this forest, this mountain top

There is a meadow

Filled with sunburnt wild flowers

Stand in its grace.

Cup your hand to your ears

Hear the echo of hope

The hymn of sojourners

Whose backs are ripe with the fruits of their journeys

Whose eyes flash visions of home

Breathe in

Breathe out

And trust the One capable of making your body more than just bones

But rhythm, and dreams and purpose.

Katelyn Durst is a community artist, creative activist, teacher and youth worker. She has worked within urban youth development and urban community development for ten years and has taught poetry for six years, recently conducting poetry therapy workshops at a youth psychiatric hospital, and for Freedom Schools summer programming in a workshop focused on healing from the unjust deaths of youth of color. Katelyn is currently pursuing a master’s in Urban Studies and Community Arts from Eastern University with a focus on trauma-informed art-making to build sustainable and transformative resiliency within urban/inner-city and displaced communities. In her spare time, she dreams of becoming an urban beekeeper. She is poet-in-residence at The Mudroom.

You may also want to read

Thursday Morning Sabbath

By Elrena Evans

The year my eldest child started middle school, I looked at our family calendar and realized we were going to have a problem. With five children and multiple schools now in the mix, plus after-school activities, music lessons, Bible study, etc., there was no room left on my color-coded spreadsheet to just breathe.

Finding God in the City

By Lyndsay Mathews

I grew up in a small Texas town with a population of around three thousand people. It has one stoplight. Traffic jams only happen if someone is driving their tractor down Main Street.