Leigh Leigh Speaks

For the past year and a half, I’ve been on a profound spiritual journey with the Lord. I’ve granted myself grace to let it unfold naturally—a process that involved plenty of trial and error. Flipping through my journal now, I see the raw struggles: the internal wrestling between logic and faith that kept me up at night. Logic craves explanations, demands answers to every “why.” Faith, though? It trusts. It hopes and believes, even without seeing the evidence.

This clash traces back to childhood. To cope with daily trauma behind our home’s closed doors, I leaned hard on the logical side of my brain. Secrets no child should endure forced me to mask my emotions, burying them so deep I couldn’t even access them for guidance later in life. Making sense of the chaos meant analyzing it logically: understand the “whys,” hide the pain, and pretend it away. I’m sharing this to explain why a logical lens has dominated my mindset—and maybe yours too. Perhaps you’ve never realized how this analytical filter shapes (or limits) how you see the world.

The dam broke on a sweltering Texas summer day. I was driving home, trailing my husband on his newly tuned Harley, the air thick with heat. Leading up to it, I’d been devouring faith-based podcasts, grappling with my identity, coping mechanisms, and survival strategies—all built on logic. I’d just ended a call with an Alongside Nurse prepping me for my first dose of DMT (a treatment I’d sworn off but finally accepted to fight the autoimmune disease diagnosed three years earlier). My husband’s gentle words still echo: “I think you should try the meds. Your body could use the extra help right now.”

In that moment, I realized I couldn’t do it all alone—no matter how stubborn I was. It’s okay to ask for help when you need it (and honesty check: we always do at some point). But back to the call—I was wrecked. Disappointed in “bowing down” to medication after vowing natural healing only. Why now? Why this chronic illness? God! Hot tears streamed as frustration boiled over. Finally, I confessed what I’d buried: “I don’t trust you, God!”

There it was—raw honesty. Now He could work. The Holy Spirit began uprooting that deep lie of distrust. My wrestling softened from a grip to horseplay. “But I want to trust You,” I whispered. And so it began: little by little, I let go of logic as my idol, my false truth, my substitute god. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

I’d love to say transformation hit by fall—haha, nope. Emotional turmoil lingered, but I pressed on. I surrendered running life on my terms, ditching logic’s dictation for grace-fueled living. One day, one moment at a time. I dropped what I’d clung to: setting tough boundaries with loved ones, even stepping away from two ministries I’d poured myself into. In hindsight, I was shedding hides and retreating to a cave for healing. Weeks blurred into months—a full season. Just over a year since that confession, I’m still releasing logic for faith: trusting He holds the answers, freeing me from masking my true self.

In this season, it means slowing down, hushing external noise. Chasing logical “evidence” exhausts you—bombarding your mind with facts, or burying issues in busyness to avoid facing them. I promised myself grace to just be. No fixing flaws I hated, no overanalyzing. Live present: this moment, then the next. Until distractions crept in—meh, work in progress, right?

This summer brought the freedom I’d craved. I stopped self-demands, ditched expectations, quit performing for validation. My husband’s extended leave (a blessing from his company’s foster care support) catalyzed it all. We manage our foster child together, and his 12 weeks off felt like a gift.

Imagine life on a rigid routine, where alone time was your only relief to logically dissect shortcomings. Imagine believing unmet goals meant total failure—a downward spiral. Interruptions used to crush me: restart, do better, be better. Yada yada.

But after his first four weeks off—leaving me 5 pounds heavier, out of shape, house chaotic—I shifted. The next chunk? Pure enjoyment. I told the devil to shut up, kicked back, and savored lunches out, DQ Blizzards (worth every calorie!). No fear of his return or mental chaos.

Slowing down with him was a soul vacation. How to carry it forward? By releasing body image obsessions and cardio guilt, I stopped fixating. Truth hit: All we have is now. Yesterday’s gone; tomorrow’s not promised. Why obsess over future shame or past regrets? What’s the point?

Slowing down isn’t stagnation—it’s beholding the moment, making it count. We’re passengers in these earthly bodies. Why rush monumental tasks? Logic bosses us, craving control. Faith invites imagination, carefree presence.

Choosing Faith Today: Your Turn

I’ve decided: Let logic go. Manage time and energy by faith—it creates space to slow down.

How about you? Live the rest of today trusting God’s goodness and love. He values you without checklists or performance. He’s after the love He’s placed in you—steward that well.

What’s one way you can release control today? Share in the comments—I’d love to hear your story.

Much love,

Leigh Leigh