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Noonday Notes, Issue 20

Break on Through (to the Other Side)

Noonday Notes, Issue 20

Noonday Notes

Issue No. 20

October 17th 2025


There are weeds you can pull without thinking, the ones that come out with ease. And then there’s Bermuda grass. It seems to never leave. It runs beneath the surface, tangling itself into every root around it. You can’t just grab the top. You have to dig, tug, get your hands dirty, and even then, it often grows right back.


I’ve been in a long battle with weeds (on the farm and in life). The ones you feel like you’ve been fighting forever. The kind that makes you think, “Will this ever get better?”


But this week something shifted. The weed pressure is lighter. The battle didn’t feel impossible. For the first time, I thought: We’re actually beating this grass back. I felt it in my spirit too.


There are patterns in our lives like Bermuda grass. Habits. Behaviors. Ruts of thinking. Coping mechanisms. Sin. Wounds. Things so old or familiar that we barely notice them until we try to remove them. And then we feel how deep they go.


They don’t come out with “good intentions”. You can’t “manifest” their removal. Often it takes persistence. Time. Grace. Help. And the hard, unglamorous work of digging down to the root.


But sometimes after doing the hard inner work of digging, confessing, healing, and choosing differently, you start to notice the weeds are not as strong as they used to be. They don’t own you like before. There is space to grow.


“For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.” Hebrews 12:11 (ESV)


God isn’t indifferent to the Bermuda grass in our souls. He doesn’t shame us for it. It’s from His love that we are able to endure the labor and discipline of pulling our weeds. And sometimes, after a long season of digging, we finally feel the joy of that root giving way.


Where in your life are you seeing signs of breakthrough? Not perfection. But progress. Not a finished garden. But a breath of relief. Lightness. Hope. Evidence that healing is real and change is possible. The “root of bitterness” is getting gone.


Read the rest of the newsletter here.

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