allison elaine writes

Faith foundational reflections for healing, formation, and everyday life.

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I have a heart for advocating, encouraging, and empowering people, and for giving God the glory in every season of life. I’ve spent the last 19 years serving vulnerable individuals in the social service field, an experience that has both humbled me and strengthened my faith. My deepest desire is to be used by the Lord to share the wisdom and experiences He has given me. While faith is the foundation of everything I do, this space also reflects the practical work I’ve been called to—supporting trauma healing, understanding how the brain responds to stress and suffering, and helping people grow in compassionate, effective communication. Much of my work has focused on walking alongside those who are struggling and equipping others to connect people with helpful resources and meaningful support. I am a follower of Christ first, a wife, a mama to two adult children and one teen, and the grateful grandma of a sweet little toddler who fills our family with joy. Here, you’ll find faith, honesty, and hope—rooted in Christ and shared through real-life experience, practical insight, and a deep love for people.
  • January 3

    January 3

    Blessed Be the Name of the Lord

    Thankfully, I went to bed early on New Year’s Day. With the anticipation of one of my closest friends getting married at sunrise on January 2, the night that followed was restless and light.

    After a false alarm call at my home in Phoenix, I had finally fallen asleep—only to be woken five or ten minutes later by a call from my daughter.

    In that moment, I felt gratitude more than anything else. I’m thankful that I am the person she calls in the middle of the night for support and guidance.

    We talked through how many breaths per minute my granddaughter was taking. I FaceTimed with them and could see that her breathing was labored. My daughter made the decision to take her to the hospital.

    Before going further, I need to pause.

    January 3, 2009 was the day my youngest daughter, Caroleen, died from a lung infection at Phoenix Children’s Hospital.

    Seventeen years later—to the exact date—I found myself walking with my daughter as her own child was being admitted for breathing issues.

    By the grace of God, I am living in a regulated body. I have walked with the Lord for twenty-one years and have committed myself to daily, moment-by-moment healing and growth. God knows how I am wired—how deeply I love, how fiercely I show up for the people He has entrusted to me.

    Instead of spiraling into fear at the parallels in front of me, I stepped into love and support. I stayed present. I stayed grounded. I knew this was a redemptive moment the Lord was giving me as a gift.

    And I knew—deep in my spirit—that my granddaughter was going to be okay. I had already imagined the moment we would be released from the hospital.

    I was an hour away and couldn’t be there for the beginning of what my daughter had to navigate. My granddaughter did spend a short time in the ICU on heavy oxygen at Phoenix Children’s Hospital.

    After attending the beautiful sunrise wedding, I headed back to the valley as soon as I could. By the time I arrived, my sweet grandbaby was already on room air—and she was very clear that she did not want her Bama going anywhere.

    She was happy to see me. I got to spend quiet, sacred time with her and my daughter. That night, we all finally rested. I stayed until she fell asleep because she insisted.

    The next morning, I returned before they woke up. When she saw me, her face lit up.

    We spent the morning waiting for the doctor to come in and officially release her from the hospital. And then—just like that—we walked out with my granddaughter riding triumphantly in a unicorn chariot, pushed by a hospital assistant down the hallway.

    The same hospital.
    The same date.
    A completely different ending.

    When I got into my car, I took a moment to sit in the stillness. I turned on the radio and listened to the same song that had been playing when I left that hospital seventeen years earlier.

    The song had been released by Steven Curtis Chapman after the loss of his daughter. Even then, we recognized the sovereignty of God—down to the song playing in that exact moment.

    You’re the King of kings
    And Lord of lords
    And it’s all Yours, God
    Everything is Yours.

    I also listened to Blessed Be the Name of the Lord—the very first song I heard when I returned to church the Sunday after Caroleen died.

    When the darkness closes in, Lord
    Still I will say
    Blessed be the name of the Lord.

    God’s love, care, control, peace, comfort, and strength have carried me through life—even through its deepest hardships.

    “The Lord is my strength and my shield;
    my heart trusts in Him, and I am helped;
    my heart exults,
    and with my song I give thanks to Him.”
    Psalm 28:7

    And on this January 3, joy looked like redemption.

  • There Is No Such Thing as “Good People”

    There Is No Such Thing as “Good People”

    (And How That Truth Leads to True Freedom and Hope)

    For nearly eighteen years, I had been walking with Jesus—aware of my need for Him, grateful for His grace, and continually learning what it means to depend on Him rather than myself.

    Then one conversation shifted something deep in me.

    I was talking with a very close friend about her husband’s infidelity and his ongoing struggle with drug and alcohol addiction. This was not a new conversation. I had seen her heart broken many times. I had prayed with her, supported her, and encouraged her as she continued to fight for her marriage and to follow what God was leading her to do, even when it came at great personal cost.

    In the middle of our conversation, she said something so human and so understandable:

    “But he really is a good person.”

    What came out of my mouth next wasn’t planned. It didn’t feel like my own thought. It simply came out:

    “There is no such thing as good people. We all absolutely need Jesus.”

    I wasn’t trying to correct her.
    I wasn’t trying to judge her husband.
    And I certainly wasn’t trying to minimize her pain.

    But in that moment, the Holy Spirit began to connect Scripture in a way I had never fully articulated before.

    What Do We Mean When We Say “Good”?

    Jesus Himself says:

    “Why do you call Me good? No one is good except God alone.”
    — Mark 10:18

    That statement alone dismantles the idea that human goodness is something we possess apart from God.

    Isaiah echoes this truth with sobering clarity:

    “All of us have become like one who is unclean,
    and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags.”
    — Isaiah 64:6

    Even our best efforts, our most disciplined attempts at righteousness, fall short when measured against God’s holiness.

    Why?

    Because so often—even when we don’t realize it—our actions are motivated by self-gain: approval, fear, control, image, reputation, or self-preservation.

    That doesn’t mean people can’t do kind things.
    It means true goodness has a source, and that source is not us.

    The War Inside Us All

    Paul articulates what every honest believer recognizes:

    “For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.”
    — Romans 7:19

    This isn’t the confession of an unbeliever.
    This is the cry of someone who knows the law, loves God, and still recognizes his inability to overcome sin by sheer willpower.

    Paul isn’t excusing sin.
    He’s exposing the truth:

    We cannot transform ourselves.

    Good Actions vs. God-Led Change

    This is where the distinction matters.

    There is a difference between:

    • behavior modification and heart transformation
    • self-effort and Spirit-led obedience
    • temporary change and lasting fruit

    Scripture is clear:

    “There is no one righteous, not even one.”
    — Romans 3:10

    And yet, in the same breath, Scripture gives us hope:

    “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.”
    — Galatians 2:20

    The only true good we see in this world flows from the Holy Spirit working through surrendered lives.

    A Freedom I Didn’t Know I Needed

    That revelation didn’t just change how I viewed others—it changed how I viewed myself.

    There was a new freedom in fully understanding that my effort is not what ultimately makes me “good.” It lifted a subtle burden I didn’t even realize I was carrying—the pressure to produce righteousness through discipline, resolve, or striving.

    Instead, it became a daily reminder of how deeply I need to seek God:

    • for growth
    • for change
    • for wisdom
    • and for the moment-by-moment actions required to love and serve the world around me well

    Goodness is not something I manufacture.
    It is something I receive and surrender to.

    “It is God who works in you to will and to act in order to fulfill His good purpose.”
    — Philippians 2:13

    Why This Truth Brought Comfort, Not Condemnation

    As our conversation continued, my friend—who is herself a woman of God—recognized that this truth aligned completely with Scripture. She understood that my words were not an indictment of her husband’s worth, but an invitation to deeper prayer.

    My goal was never to label him as “bad.”
    My goal was to point toward the only source of genuine change.

    Because if change is rooted in self-gain, it will eventually collapse.
    But if change is rooted in surrender to Christ, it produces fruit that lasts.

    “Apart from Me you can do nothing.”
    — John 15:5

    That verse is not meant to shame us.
    It is meant to free us.

    Why This Is Actually Good News

    If goodness depended on us, we would all be disqualified.

    But because goodness flows from Christ:

    • there is hope for the addicted
    • there is hope for the unfaithful
    • there is hope for the weary spouse
    • there is hope for all of us

    True goodness is not something we achieve.
    It is the fruit of a life surrendered to Jesus.

    And every single one of us stands in the same place:

    In desperate need of Him.

  • Someone You Don’t Know Yet

    Someone You Don’t Know Yet

    One of the most memorable clients of my career was someone I met early in my work within Arizona’s state behavioral health system, serving individuals living with serious mental illness diagnoses.

    That’s when I was introduced to LT.

    He was a large man with long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He was homeless at the time, malodorous, and carried the unmistakable smell of sour laundry. He presented as gruff, irritated, and deeply annoyed with the world around him.

    But it didn’t take long to see past that.

    Even on days when he came into the center visibly grumpy, the moment he saw me, his face would soften. He’d smile, stand up, and come over to give me a hug. I helped him secure housing—a low-cost room in a large assisted living facility—and although I worked alongside another case manager, LT chose to talk to me about the details of his life.

    Once he was housed, he called me every day. Not because there was a crisis, but for one specific reason—to tell me that he had stayed sober that day. He wasn’t interested in sharing that with anyone else. It mattered that I knew. Every day, I encouraged him, told him how proud I was of him, and how grateful I was that he trusted me enough to share that with me.

    There were several moments with LT that have stayed with me. During a group one day, he suddenly spoke up and said, “You know what a normal person is, right? Someone you don’t know yet.” It stopped the room. And he was right.

    Another moment was far more tender. LT disclosed to me that he had experienced childhood sexual abuse—something he had never told anyone before and said he would never tell anyone else. I encouraged him to seek counseling and additional support, but he declined. Still, I was profoundly grateful that, for that season of his life, I had been a safe place for him to speak that truth aloud.

    He also once said to me, “A lot of people talk about finding God. I never lost Him.”

    Others often saw LT as grumpy and unfriendly. I saw something very different. Over the ten months I worked with him, I saw kindness, humility, humor, and faith—often hidden beneath years of pain and survival. It brings to mind a line from Brené Brown: “People are hard to hate close up. Move in.”

    One afternoon, as I was finishing my documentation, my phone rang. It was LT’s other case manager, calling to tell me that he had died. He had fallen in the shower, and from what I remember, his ribs punctured an internal organ.

    It was a hard day. One that still stays with me.

    LT is someone I will always carry with me. I am deeply grateful that I was able to know him—not just as a client, but as a human being—and that before he died, he had at least one place where he was seen, safe, and known.

    If there is anything LT taught me, it’s this: people are not problems to be managed, diagnoses to be reduced, or behaviors to be tolerated from a distance. They are human beings, shaped by stories we may never fully know. Loving others—especially those who are difficult, guarded, or inconvenient—requires that we move in close enough to see them clearly.

    So here is the invitation: move in.
    Every “difficult” person is just someone you don’t know yet.
    Lean toward the person who is easy to dismiss.
    Stay present with the one who makes you uncomfortable.
    Choose curiosity over judgment and proximity over distance.

    Because love is not passive. It is practiced. And sometimes, the most life-changing thing we can offer someone is simply the decision to see them.

  • Getting Out of God’s Way

    Getting Out of God’s Way

    How Daily Surrender, Obedience, and the Holy Spirit Transform Relationships

    Strong personalities can build things—or break them.

    I was raised by two very strong people. Their strengths were ambition and passion. They were driven, capable, and unapologetic. But those same strengths came with weaknesses: quicker frustration and very little tolerance for baloney.

    That shaped me more than I realized.

    It took significant life events—and a lot of humility—for me to understand how often my strength was actually getting in God’s way. What I once saw as passion, God revealed as self-reliance. What I justified as honesty, He exposed as fear and control, showing me that daily surrender to God was the only path to spiritual growth and freedom.

    Scripture makes it unmistakably clear:

    “I protest, brothers, by my pride in you, which I have in Christ Jesus our Lord—I die every day!”
    1 Corinthians 15:31

    Dying daily is not metaphorical. It is a conscious, repeated choice to step aside and let God lead.

    When my daughter was around 18 or 19, I found myself deeply frustrated and heartbroken. I felt distance growing between us, and I didn’t know how to close it. In desperation, I cried out to God, asking why I felt like I was losing connection with my oldest daughter.

    And God answered clearly:

    She just needs to see Jesus in you.

    My response was honest and immediate. I told Him I didn’t know how to stop expressing fear. I didn’t know how to stop letting anxiety, control, and unhelpful words seep into that relationship. I told God I didn’t know how to simply show Jesus instead of my fear.

    His response was gentle—but firm:

    I’ll do it for you.

    In that moment, something shifted. I can only describe it as the Lord removing fear from that relationship. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, I was given the ability to bridle my tongue, release unhelpful reactions, and stop operating from fear—not through willpower, but through dependence on Him.

    “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness…”
    Romans 8:26

    What I didn’t realize then was that obedience often requires patience.

    Nearly seven years later, my daughter shared something that marked the fruit of that obedience:

    “Mom, you’re one of my best friends.”

    The beauty that has come from submission and obedience has been immeasurable. Getting out of God’s way—dying to myself—has allowed me to witness His mighty hand at work. And every time, it has been for His glory and for the greater good.

    The enemy’s strategy is subtle but effective: to lead us into self-reliance. When we depend on our own strength, wisdom, or control, we become ineffective—not because God steps back, but because we never stepped aside.

    What I’ve Learned

    • Die to your fleshly nature daily
    • Put on the whole armor of God
    • Rely fully on the Holy Spirit

    Reflection & Action

    Where might God be inviting you to get out of His way?

    Is there a relationship, fear, habit, or form of self-reliance that needs to be laid down—not through striving, but through surrender?

    Call to Action:
    Take time today—intentionally and without distraction—to ask the Holy Spirit to show you one area where you are holding on too tightly. Write it down. Pray over it. Then take one deliberate step of obedience that reflects trust instead of control.

    Getting out of God’s way is not passive—it is an act of faith.
    And it may be the most obedient, powerful step you take today.

  • When Frustration Becomes Formation: To the Glory of God in the Everyday

    When Frustration Becomes Formation: To the Glory of God in the Everyday

    Your call to holiness. 

    Every day comes with frustrations—someone cuts us off in traffic, our children talk back, a stranger is rude, or a misunderstanding disrupts our peace. These ordinary moments often stir irritation or impatience, but Scripture reminds us that even these can become places where holiness is formed.

    Many believers have heard the phrase that marriage isn’t designed just to make us happy but to make us holy. But what if that principle extends to all of life? What if the real invitation is that every response to everyday life—every disagreement, every inconvenience, every frustration—is an opportunity to glorify God?

    “Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.” — 1 Corinthians 10:31

    In these moments, our opinions often matter far less than the condition of our heart. Our responses become the testing ground of our holiness—showing how closely we’ve been walking with Jesus and what our priorities truly are.

    “But the things that come out of a person’s mouth come from the heart.” — Matthew 15:18

    “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.” — Proverbs 4:23

    When we are resting in the Lord—allowing the Holy Spirit to shape our attitudes, desires, and reactions—the fruit becomes unmistakable. It shows up in the way we treat others, even under pressure.

    “Walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh… But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” — Galatians 5:16, 22–23

    Holiness is not primarily revealed on mountaintops or in the big spiritual moments. It is revealed in the small, hidden responses of daily life—the places where no one is watching but God. These moments serve as a mirror, reflecting how much time we’ve been spending with Him and how willing we are to submit to His shaping.

    “Be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” — Romans 12:2

    “Just as He who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do.” — 1 Peter 1:15

    Every irritation becomes an invitation.

    Every frustration becomes formation.

    Every response becomes a chance to reflect the One we follow.

    Holiness grows in the ordinary. And God uses these moments—large and small—to make us more like Christ.

    Thanks for reading 😊