As I walk through this season of struggle, confusion, and uncertainty, it seems that every time I dare to write down a goal or make a plan, I feel an overwhelming sense of defeat. It is as if a voice whispered, "How dare you try to be God? How dare you assume you know what's coming next?"
The more I try to build a roadmap for the future, the more helpless I feel. Eventually, I cried out to God.
In His kindness, He reminded me of something important: those feelings of hopelessness, confusion, and fear were not from Him. God does not punish His children, He does not delight in our anxiety, and He is not the author of confusion.
Within a week, He completely transformed my perspective.
It began with Matthew 6:26:
"Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them."
God reminded me of His daily provision.
As the Israelites wandered through the wilderness, He provided manna each day. Not enough to store away for months, not enough to eliminate their dependence on Him, just enough for that day. Daily bread.
Then He reminded me that the Israelites still had a responsibility. Every morning they had to go out and gather what God had provided.
The provision was God's. The gathering was theirs.
How often do I pray for provision while neglecting the simple act of faithfully gathering what He has already placed before me?
The birds of the air don't stockpile food for years in advance, they don't know what tomorrow holds; yet every day they wake up and gather what God has provided for that day.
Perhaps faithfulness isn't found in having a perfect five-year plan; it's found in gathering today's manna.
Then God brought me to 2 Corinthians 4:8:
"We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair."
What a beautiful reminder. Perplexed. Not enlightened, certain, possessing all the answers. Perplexed. And nowhere is it concluded that God abandons me to fend for myself.
God never promised that I would understand every twist and turn of my journey nor that I would know how every prayer would be answered or how every need would be met, but He did promise that confusion would not have the final word.
I may not know the outcome, but He does. I may not see the path, but He does. And because He does, I can trust Him.
Next, the Holy Spirit led me to Matthew 11:28-30:
"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
The invitation wasn't to work harder and to figure everything out; it was simply to come. To lay down the burdens I was never meant to carry and to stop gripping tomorrow so tightly. To rest.
Not because my circumstances had changed, but because my Savior had not.
Finally, God brought me to Lamentations 3:21-26.
In the middle of a book filled with grief and sorrow comes one of the most hope-filled declarations in all of Scripture:
"It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness."
New every morning.
His mercy is sufficient for today. His grace is sufficient for today. His provision is sufficient for today. His faithfulness is sufficient for today.
And if all of that wasn't enough, God graciously gave me a few uninterrupted hours with my husband on a beautiful afternoon. We spent time together on the golf course, soaking in the sunshine, listening to birds sing, and simply enjoying the gift of being together.
For a moment, the striving stopped. The anxiety faded. The noise quieted. And I was reminded that God is present not only in the mountaintop victories but also in the ordinary moments of rest.
Then He placed one final confirmation in my path: Pastor Jonathan Pokluda's sermon, "Trusting God in Your Storm." (find the link here.)
The message felt as though it had been prepared specifically for this season. What struck me most was the realization that trusting God does not require understanding Him.
The disciples didn't understand why Jesus was sleeping during the storm. Job didn't understand why he suffered. Ruth didn't understand how God was working through her loss. The widow with the oil didn't understand how a nearly empty jar could become abundance. Yet in every story, God was already at work before they could see it.
And perhaps that's where I find myself today.
Not with all the answers, not with certainty about the future, not with a detailed roadmap of where God is leading; but with a renewed confidence in the One who does.
The same God who provided manna in the wilderness, calmed the storm on the sea, sustained Ruth through uncertainty, multiplied the widow's oil, and faithfully carried His people through every season has not changed.
My circumstances, my plans, my understanding may change But God never does.
The future still holds questions. There are still prayers unanswered and doors yet unopened. Yet I no longer feel the weight of needing to know what comes next. God has gently reminded me that my responsibility is not to control tomorrow, but to trust Him today. To gather the provision He places before me each day.
Because peace is not found in having all the answers—it is found in knowing the One who does.
And no matter what tomorrow brings, I know where my eyes belong.
On Him.