Saturday, January 24, 2026

Saying Yes to Life: Faith, Fire, and the Quiet Holiness of Love

Movie poster for Soul on Fire showing a silhouetted man with arms raised against a glowing light background and the text “Based on the Incredible True Story.” A smiling portrait of John O’Leary appears on the right side of the image.
Tonight, after watching Soul on Fire, I didn’t immediately reach for my phone or turn on another show. Instead, I sat quietly and let the weight of the story settle into my heart. There was something sacred about that stillness, as if God Himself was inviting me to linger in the moment and listen. The film stirred emotions I wasn’t fully prepared for: gratitude, sorrow, hope, and a renewed awareness of how fragile and precious this life truly is. It reminded me that faith is not lived only in churches or prayer books, but in hospital rooms, kitchen tables, late-night conversations, and the ordinary spaces where God quietly meets us.

As the credits rolled, I felt an unmistakable nudge toward reflection. Not the kind that stays surface-level, but the kind that reaches deeper and asks uncomfortable and holy questions. Am I truly living the life God is calling me to live? Am I saying yes to love even when it costs me something? Am I allowing suffering to soften my heart instead of hardening it? Soul on Fire did not simply tell a story of survival. It proclaimed a testimony of surrender, perseverance, and grace, reminding me that every breath we are given is an opportunity to choose faith again.

These words by John O'Learly continue to echo in my heart:

“To move through the adversities of life we must have a reason to thrive that is bigger than all the challenges that we face. My purpose is simple. Because God demands it. Jack was teaching me to say yes to life. The good and the bad.”

Those words carry the weight of the Gospel. To say yes to life is to say yes to God’s will, even when it is inconvenient, uncomfortable, or unclear. It is to trust that suffering does not have the final word. It is to believe, as our faith teaches us, that resurrection always follows the cross.

Earlier today, before I even watched the movie, I had nearly a two-hour FaceTime “date” with Josie. We read books. We did activities. We laughed. We shared small moments that felt surprisingly sacred. In that time together, I realized something deeply personal.

Josie is my Jack.

Being her Godmother has transformed me. It has reshaped how I understand vocation, service, and love. God did not give me this role by accident. Through Josie, He teaches me patience. Through her joy, He reminds me of wonder. Through my responsibility to her, He calls me to live with greater intention and integrity.

Spiritual motherhood is not symbolic. It is real. It is sacrificial. It is a daily yes to praying for her, showing up for her, guiding her toward truth, and loving her in a way that reflects Christ’s love. When John speaks about purpose being rooted in God’s demand, I hear that call clearly. Love is not optional. Presence is not optional. Faith is meant to be lived, not simply believed.

Soul on Fire also reminded me that healing is not instant. Transformation is rarely dramatic. Most of the time, holiness grows quietly. It grows in choosing forgiveness when it is hard. In trusting God when answers are delayed. In continuing to love when exhaustion sets in. In staying faithful when the road feels long.

The movie’s message about community struck me deeply as well. None of us are meant to walk alone. God designed us for relationship. He heals us through others. He strengthens us through shared burdens. Whether it is friendship, family, mentorship, or spiritual kinship, grace often arrives wearing the face of another person.

John O’Leary’s words, “You get one life, make yours matter,” feel like a modern echo of the saints. The saints did not seek comfort. They sought fidelity. They made their lives matter not through perfection, but through surrender. Through daily choices to love God and neighbor more fully.

Making life matter does not require grand gestures. Sometimes it looks like missionary work. Sometimes it looks like quiet service. And sometimes it looks like sitting on FaceTime for two hours reading children’s books and laughing with a little girl who has no idea she is helping shape a woman’s faith.

Tonight, I am grateful. Grateful for stories that remind me of God’s faithfulness. Grateful for John O’Leary’s witness. Grateful for Josie, who unknowingly teaches me how to say yes to life every day. And grateful for a God who continues to invite us into purpose, even in ordinary moments.

May I keep saying yes to love, to faith, to service, to joy, and to the good and the hard because this life is a gift. And by God’s grace, I want mine to matter.


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