trust Archives - Gina Brenna Butz

Manna for the Moment

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 11, 2021
Post category:dependence on God faith grace

It’s safe to say we’re all worn a little thin these days. As Bilbo Baggins said, “Like butter scraped over too much bread.”

Sometimes it’s just because we’re looking down the road and we see all that’s ahead. We’re at the beginning of diagnosis. Getting our kids to college feels daunting. We wonder how we’ll keep our heads above water with all the work we have to do.

Sometimes life comes at us hard. We’re reminded of our frailty, of how little we can actually control in our lives, or in the world.

I felt that way a few weeks ago, burdened by the weight of a situation in my life. I realized the anxiety I felt was because I wanted the grace, not just for this moment, but for all the moments. Looking ahead, I wanted all the grace for all that might happen in this area of my life.

And God said, “I only give you manna for this moment.”

What Is Manna?

Manna, the bread the Israelites were given as they wandered in the desert. The bread that literally made them say, “what is it?” I mean I’m not a foodie, but the thought of that same old same old every day for years sounds blech.

And yet it sustained. It was enough. From the hands of a God who knew what they needed, it was just right.

But it was daily provision. Not “store up for tomorrow” or “store up for when you really need it” provision.

Manna for the moment.

So when that anxiety tried to creep back in, I went to God to remind myself that I don’t need now what I will need then. I only need Him to give me what I need for where I am right now. And a few hours later, still-manna for this moment.

I thought of it again a week later when I stared ahead with anticipation to a new project I started at work. It was to start on a Thursday. I worried about it on Monday, and God said, “Are you doing this today?”

“No.”

“So I will give you manna for today. And when we get to Thursday, I will be there too. I will give you the grace you need when we get there.”

Manna for Each Moment

It’s such an invitation into trust that not only will God be there but His grace will be too. It doesn’t run out. His storehouses don’t empty. We don’t have to store up out of fear that we will lack later. Perfect provision for the place where we are.

But gosh, it’s hard, this moment-by-moment dependence. It keeps us close to our need, aware of our lack. But it’s also this amazing opportunity to turn our eyes off our weakness and onto His strength, His sufficiency.

Whatever circumstance we’re in today, God will give us the grace we need. Not for what comes tomorrow. Just for what we see today. Because then tomorrow we get to wake up and do this dependence dance all over again.

This dependence disciplines us. It humbles us. But it also frees us to live in the moment. Why do we worry about tomorrow? His grace will be there.

This is how we traverse the wilderness; one manna moment at a time. We walk with God as He feeds us His grace.

Leaning into Mystery

Post author:Gina B
Post published:March 5, 2020
Post category:expectations faith

Last summer at a spiritual retreat, the question was posed, “How do you feel about the idea of mystery?”

The woman next to me took the words out of my mouth, “I like the idea of mystery, just not as it applies to me.”

I’ll have what she’s having.

While there’s something about mystery that intrigues and invites us, leaning into mystery can be frightening. It’s unknown, unpredictable and uncontrollable.

And God is mysterious.

Pondering the idea that there is so much about Him that is beyond our comprehension, that He is a being unbound by our limitations, is exciting. It’s an invitation to experience awe, wonder, the miraculous.

That’s what I like about the idea of mystery. It’s humbling in a way that frees us. We don’t have to know everything-we can trust what is simply beyond us.

But leaning into that means letting go of whatever modicum of control we might think we have. It calls us to surrender to something we can’t grasp, something greater than we can imagine. We have to submit to a God whose ways are often unpredictable and incomprehensible. We cannot shape Him in our own image anymore.

My friend Catherine McNeil, in her new book, All Shall Be Well, says, “We’re dying to leave the mystery behind for an idol, to form God, life, and the future into something that makes sense . . . sometimes we just can’t handle the wildness of it all.”

Like I said, less appealing when it applies to my own life.

But everything about God screams mystery.

He says Himself that His ways and thoughts are so much higher than ours. Would any of us have written the redemption story the way He has? Would we lead people to wander in a desert for 40 years or make predictions of a Messiah 400 years before His birth, or send that promise in the form of an infant?

But think of what all that mysterious work has given us. Would I substitute my salvation for a knowable, predictable god who does exactly what I ask? When I balk at mystery, what I think I’m really doing is thinking somehow that my version of the story would be better.

It never is.

Leaning into mystery is contingent on a dogged faith in the love of God for us. To believe that, as C.S. Lewis said with regard to his Christ figure Aslan, “Of course he isn’t safe. But he is good.”

I can have a safe God or a good one. I will not allow myself to be caught up in mystery if I’m not convinced that the Mystery is relentlessly committed to loving goodness toward me.

2019 was a mysterious year in many ways. I didn’t understand what God was doing with my health. I wondered how this book would turn out in the end. We waited on answers to prayer, wondering what on earth He would do. How easy it is to want to grasp for that which is in our control rather than to surrender to His ways.

But as I look back on my life and the seasons where I most wondered, “What is He up to?” I see the fruit. I see that the ways He worked things really were better than I could have imagined. That gives me hope to keep leaning into the mystery of God.

This is the life of faith. We may not always understand Him, but we can trust Him.

Complaining vs Honesty

Post author:Gina B
Post published:February 20, 2020
Post category:trials truth

I read once of a missionary woman who determined not to complain about anything in her situation, even the weather.

A good principle it seems, but as a young missionary overseas, I wondered about it. If I didn’t speak of the the challenges of that life, what did I do about them?

What should I do with the days when suddenly the water in our building was shut off, the moments when I couldn’t make myself understood, when I ached for family and comfort?

Was I just meant to swallow all that? If I did, would it just go away? Or maybe my recourse was just to look on the bright side. Maybe enough positive thoughts submerge the hard aspects of life.

I don’t disagree that complaining that keeps us focused on our lack is a practice to avoid. But I’ve seen (and experienced) the ways a commitment to not complaining becomes a subtle way of shaming and minimizing the impact of suffering on our souls.

I began to wonder if there was a place for honesty in the life of a missionary. Is there a way for us to name that which weighs on us without it leading to discouragement and negativity?

The Difference between Complaining and Honesty

You may think honesty is simply a cleaned-up way to say complaining, but I disagree. Because I see honesty in scripture, particularly the Psalms. David brings his honest heart before God again and again.

In fact, in some verses, David straight up calls it complaint: “Hear me, O God, as I voice my complaint” (Psalm 64:1) and, “I pour out before him my complaint; before him I tell my trouble” (Psalm 142:2). He names that which wars against his soul. He names the cost of it.

But he does it as one with hope and trust. He doesn’t take it to his neighbor-he takes it to God first. He speaks his truth to the One who He believes will hear and answer. This, to me, is the opposite of complaint.

Complaint keeps our eyes on ourselves and our circumstances. It speaks from a place of entitlement, so easy for us to slip into when we are doing “God’s work.” As though God owes us a good life since we’re “sacrificing” for Him.

Complaint leaves us longing and believing that we’ve been shorted. It’s a path toward disillusionment and bitterness.

But honesty turns our eyes back to God. It reminds us that even in the hardest situation, God is there and what He has given us cannot be shaken.

Our honest complaint to Him says, “This is hard, but I’m not going to pretend it isn’t because You are here. I won’t try to muscle through this in my own strength. I know You see how difficult this is and You have compassion. Please help me, heal me, give me the strength I lack to keep doing what You’ve called me to do in the middle of this mess.”

Complaint shuts God out. Honesty invites Him in. Click To Tweet

His Perfect Timing

Post author:Gina B
Post published:October 10, 2019
Post category:transition

God's Perfect Timing — photo by Ales Krivec

When I learned I was pregnant with our son, it did not feel like the most opportune time to have a child.

We were at the first weekend of our training to live cross-culturally. That fall, we were going to move overseas and lead a team of missionaries. I had language learning and cultural adjustment and leadership to do. A baby did not fit into the plan.

But the thought occurred to me one day, “What if this kid needs to come into the world at this time instead of when I had planned? And because of that, someday, he’s going to be in just the right place at just the right time to do something God wants him to do?”

Fast forward 19 years, and I look at my son, who in high school ran for president of his student government with the kid who ended up being just 3 months older than him, the one he grew up with. I think of the people our son knows, whom he has impacted, and I know this: God’s timing is perfect.

This concern about timing doesn’t just crop up in my circumstances. It permeates deeper, to the core of my walk with Him.

Recently, I spoke with a group of women I gather with regularly for some good old deep-end-of-the-ocean soul-baring. When we share, it’s inevitable one of us sighs with the realization, “I thought I’d learned this already.”

You know what I’m talking about. It’s that realization, “hey, this lesson seems familiar.” I thought I was past this. But no, here we are again. Or maybe worse: how am I just now figuring this out?

It’s tempting to get down on ourselves, to wonder why it’s taken us so long to learn something, or to realize what we thought we’d learned didn’t sink in deep enough. But I am learning this: we’re right on time.

“You’re right on time.”

It’s a phrase a friend of mine uses to encourage me when I wonder why I’m just now getting this or learning some lesson all over again.

This phrase invites grace. It invites us to trust in God’s patience, His wisdom, His ways, rather than our own. If God had wanted me here sooner, He would have brought me here sooner.

He says it to remind me that God knows the path of growth he has for me, and his timing is impeccable.

This is when God chose to bring me to this lesson. Or back to this lesson. Again. He doesn’t condemn. He doesn’t wonder why we didn’t get it sooner. There is a time for everything.

God’s timing is not ours.

Because who knows that you haven’t come to this moment for such a time as this? Who knows that you didn’t learn this lesson now for a specific reason?

Who says there’s a timeline we have to follow? If we really believe God numbers our days and knows the plans he has for us, we have to trust that we are where we are because it’s the timing he has for us.

Whether it’s our circumstances or our growth, God knows what He’s doing with us. From our minutes to our years, He is at work.

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.”

Related posts:

This Is Assigned

On Waiting Well

Called to Do Today (And Just Today)

Finding God in the Wilderness

Post author:Gina B
Post published:May 16, 2019
Post category:dependence on God faith transition trials Uncategorized

In March, I spoke at a women’s conference about finding God in unexpected journeys.

I talked about the Israelites as they left Egypt (when a season isn’t the good you expected), wandered in the wilderness (when God makes you wait and you don’t know why), and experienced the promised land (when life is just the way you want it to be).

Last fall, when I was writing these talks, I was living in a pretty good season. I resonated with the promised land experience.

And then God invited me back into the wilderness.

Suddenly, I need to listen to my own words.

Finding Myself in the Wilderness

I warned the retreat attendees about this: our real promised land is ahead. God doesn’t leave us long in those seasons. He has more for us to learn. Hence, the journey back into the wild.

See, for most of 2019 so far, I’ve experienced bouts of dizziness and headaches that at times have been debilitating. At the least, they are rarely completely gone (thanks for nothing, new year).

Finally, after an MRI (thankfully clear) and a trip to the neurologist, I was diagnosed with basilar migraines, a diagnosis that still leaves me skeptical, but at least gives me some direction.

It’s been a strange season to walk through. It’s hard not knowing how I will feel from day to day, how long it will last. I’ve wondered what He is doing, what He wants to teach me through this.

Like the Israelites, once I realized I was back in the wilderness, I started asking God for the shortest way out. Sure, You can teach me something, but could you make it fast? And easy?

It’s hard to be in a place where we realize we aren’t the ones in control. The wilderness is tiring, humbling, and at times confusing. A friend of mine put it recently, “God has you in a fog.” Indeed.

I don’t know about you, but I can’t see well in the fog. Yet as I said at the retreat (curse my words coming back to haunt me!) we can find God in the wilderness, no matter how foggy it is.

Better yet, He can see through the fog. He knows the way out of this wilderness.

So I’m looking for God in all of this.

And I’m finding Him.

Finding God in the Wilderness

He is using this season to slow me down even more (I swear pretty soon I’ll be going backward). As much as I hate doing less, He reassures me that it doesn’t diminish me.

Prayers I have prayed are being answered through this (be careful what you pray for!).

In my hardest moments, I have heard His voice speak tenderly and consistently to me words of comfort and invitation. He has felt closer than ever.

Friends have stepped in and wrapped my weakness, fears, and grief with love and care, and in the process taught me more how to let others care for me (a much needed and on-going lesson).

In a sweet moment, our daughter asked me, “What would you do if this was happening to me?” It invited me to consider how to extend compassion, kindness, tenderness, and patience to myself as I would want to give to others.

Finding He Is Enough

I believe it’s in the wilderness where God tries us to see what we really want. Do we want Him? Or do we just want what He gives us?

Will we sit in this desert place long enough to experience His sufficiency, regardless of our circumstances?

This has been a hard season, yes. At my lowest times, I beg God to just make it better. I decide I don’t want the lessons I know He wants to give me.

But God is with us in the wilderness. He meets us in the middle of it to show us more of Him, to transform us, to shake us loose from the trappings that hold us.

He uses these places to bring us to our knees. They humble us to receive from Him and others what we’ve wanted all along but have been too proud and self-sufficient to cry out for.

So I’ve tried to sit patiently in this. Keep my eyes focused on Him. Giving thanks for the good I see, trusting Him for the things I cannot see.

It’s easier to have peace on the days when I feel better. But I want peace no matter what. God keeps bringing to mind Psalm 131:2, “But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content.”

God grant us that kind of trust in the wilderness. Calm and quiet souls who wait on Him.

I know it won’t last forever. God will lead me out eventually.

Maybe you’re in a wilderness too. He will lead you out as well.

So let’s stay close to Him. Let’s trust. Know that He is with us. He will do good to us in this place.

Related posts:

It’s Going to Be Okay

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier

What to Do When It’s Hard

What God Doesn’t Need Us to Tell Him

Post author:Gina B
Post published:August 2, 2018
Post category:anxiety dependence on God faith prayer

Sitting in a time of silence one morning, I felt led to pray for our son. In the words that poured out, I sounded like I was informing God of our son’s situation. Like He didn’t know.

I do this sometimes. Talk to God about my life like He needs more information. Like if only He really knew what was going on, He would spring into action in a way He seems to not be.

Alongside this news briefing is a desire to get God to care as much about the situation as I do.

As if He doesn’t.

I beg God to love my kids as much as I do. Care about this crisis in my life as much as I do. As though He’s indifferent.

Why do we do this? Why do we pray this way? God is not a sleeping giant we must rouse to compassion and action on our behalf. He doesn’t come help the ones who scream the loudest and seem the neediest.

God already knows

He is able to do more than we ask or imagine. We are engraved on the palm of his hands. Nothing escapes Him. He’s got this. He’s got us.

Even the care we feel about our part of the world pales in comparison to how He loves it. He IS love. I can’t say that about myself, even toward those who most have my heart. He aches for what we love, more than we ever could.

May that perspective fuel our prayers.

[ictt-tweet-inline]Rather than screaming for God’s attention, may we sink into the awesome awareness that we already have it. [/ictt-tweet-inline]The hairs on our head numbered. His thoughts of us more than the grains of sand on the shores of the world.

Every one of those thoughts fueled by love, goodness, compassion, grace, mercy. Fortified with wisdom, power, insight, sovereignty.

Then our prayers won’t be us waving our arms to be seen but raising them in praise and gratitude. Instead of wringing our hands, we open them to release these things we love and hold so tightly. Rather than pleading, our prayers will bring us to peace and perspective.

We join in with what He’s already doing for our people, the world. Step into the confidence that comes from knowing He is at work. Rejoice that our hearts are known, and already His plans are laid for us. He doesn’t need us to tell him anything. He just needs us to trust.

Related posts:

On Waiting Well

Ask God for the Pony

What We Don’t Have to Carry

Post author:Gina B
Post published:August 31, 2017
Post category:dependence on God peace

I woke up one morning recently, and in that space between sleeping and waking I had a clear picture in my head of a room. Scattered around the room were objects that represented aspects of my life that were causing me to worry.

It was right in the middle of a crazy week. Our kids had started school and I was trying to get back into my role at work, bringing a thousand minute decisions and needful things screaming for my attention.

The night before, as I reviewed my day, I had been aware of how those worries had occupied my thoughts and energy during the day. It occurred to me how much I had been holding onto them, rather than stopping to pray and release them to God. I determined that the next day would be one of peace. Surrender would be my course of action.

But as I woke up that morning and pictured that room, my eyes found those worries lying around me. I immediately felt a heaviness in my soul as I saw myself reaching to pick them up again, throw them over my shoulders, and trudge on. But as I leaned to take hold of one of these burdens, I heard God say,

“That is not yours to carry.”

There was in that instant a momentary sense of relief, and a reminder of my determination to stay in a place of peace this day. But in the next second, another worry popped up, whispering over my shoulder that surely I needed to carry it. As I turned in my mind to pick it up, again I heard His voice,

“That is not yours to carry.”

And then I breathed a sigh of surrender.

Sitting down that morning to pray, I thought of all those worries I was tempted to bear. I thought about this invitation from God to release my grip on them. They are good and important things that do require attention and care, but they are beyond my control. It’s best I admit that. That’s a good place to start.

So I wrote them all out one by one, writing a prayer of release for each detail. And then, I asked God to make me carefree.

I like that word-“care free.” To be free from care. Not that I stop caring what happens in our lives, but I stop being the carrier. I stop believing that without me at work, they will be forgotten and lost. I believe that the God who is stronger, wiser, bigger, and more powerful carries them for me.

That morning, a friend of mine posted 1 Peter 5:7, “Cast all your anxieties on Him because He cares for you.” I took a few minutes to read that verse in other translations, and I had to laugh when I opened The Message. It reads, “Live carefree before God; He is most careful with you.”

Full of care for us. Fully able to carry all those burdens that threaten to weigh us down with worry. Whatever is calling for you to pick it up and bear it today, don’t. Live care-free. Let Him carry it.

Related posts:

Don’t Forget to Breathe

Doubting in the Darkness

Let Go and Let Him Hold You

Surviving Your Child’s Senior Year

Post author:Gina B
Post published:August 17, 2017
Post category:parenting perspective

It’s finally here: our son is a senior in high school. This thought instills in me an equal mix of terror and grief. We have to help our son navigate all the craziness of this year to do the very thing we don’t want him to do, which is to leave us. Cue tears.

I want to do this well, though. Hopefully, we look back and say we navigated this year with grace, wisdom, and hope. We feel like we made the most of it. I’ve been pondering what that might look like, and I’ve decided on four words as our mantra:

Celebrate

Let’s begin with a hearty celebration for getting to this place. He’s come a long way from the boy who put an unpopped kernel of corn in his own ear because his sister wisely wouldn’t let him put it in hers. He has learned to navigate life in three countries, discovered life passions, learned to drive, held down a job, made deep and lasting friendships, and embraced his own walk with Jesus. This is all worth celebrating.

But God’s goodness to him has only begun, and it is sure. The word “celebrate” leads us to a mindset of gratitude and expectancy. When we are tempted to be overwhelmed and we need prayer, begin by thanking God for what He is doing.

And after we plant ourselves in God’s goodness, we need to:
Breathe

It is easy to look at the business of AP classes and college applications and financial aid, and run for the hills. But getting through this year will be the kind of journey that is “one day at a time,” and probably “each moment at a time.”

So when it all feels like too much, take a deep breath and be in the moment, both to experience it fully, but also to remember that it’s all going to be ok. This breathing has already begun in our house, in earnest. I’ve grabbed my son by the shoulders and done it with him. Lots of deep breathing happening around here.

We breathe in God’s strength, wisdom, and guidance in every second. Then breathe out the fears and uncertainty, letting His presence with us be our rock of refuge and rest. Next, we:
Trust

Easier said than done, but what a great opportunity this year will be to grow in our trust that God is greater than anything we face. The older our kids get, the greater the challenges. We could let that cause us to up the control ante, or we could release the reins altogether. Trust that even though we have to release them more and more, His grip on them is greater than ours, and never loosens.

Isaiah 26:3 says that the perfect peace we seek for this year is found as we depend completely on the One we trust. And as our school administrator shared with us during orientation, “You feel like you’ve been dropped in the deep end of the ocean. But remember that God is the Creator of the ocean.” He will guide each step. He can be counted on to carry us.
Savor

When life feels tough, it’s tempting to rush through the stress and exhaustion to reach the finish line, but if we do that, we will miss the journey God has for us along the way.

Instead, let’s savor every moment. Linger over meals and family times and the last ponderings of each day. Live this year fully present, putting aside our tasks to make space for just being together. Hold each minute just a little longer and recognize the gift it is. We want to slow down time, but if we can’t, at least we can relish it like the richest of fare.

If you’re with me in this boat, let me know. I’d love to hear how you hope to journey well as you launch your child. If you’ve already been through this, I welcome wisdom. If this is your future, it’s never to early to start practicing these attitudes.

Wherever are you on your journey, would you pray for me? With God’s help, we won’t just survive this year, but it will be a year when we experience Him deeply.

When You Just Have to Do One Day at a Time

Running from God

Post author:Gina B
Post published:June 21, 2017
Post category:dependence on God faith trials

“What would make you run from God?”

A pastor asked us this question one Sunday as he began a series on the person of Jonah, the poster prophet for running from God.

The pastor suggested we might be tempted to run from a calling to another country, maybe one where westerners aren’t welcome. I found myself surprised that a specific location hadn’t even crossed my mind.

No, for me it’s not “please don’t call me to that place.” My “places” are more internal. Maybe I’m not alone.

We are, at the core, self-centered people, which is the heart of the book of Jonah. God was calling him not just to a place, but to a surrender of the heart. That, maybe more than Nineveh, was the place he didn’t want to go.

So he ran toward Tarshish. Not sure what made Tarshish so appealing. Me, I run too, but in smaller, less obvious ways (because I don’t know how to get to Tarshish).

I run by staying busy, too busy to reflect on my heart, too busy to hear from God.

I run until I feel I’ve given enough, done enough, been enough.

I run from insignificance, from feeling small or forgotten.

I run from silence, where I might encounter emotions or truth I don’t want to own.

I run from being exposed to God, or more aware of my sin, is not a place I want to be.

All places where He is calling me to surrender, to let go of what I cling to that I think is life.

I want Him to call me somewhere else, some place where I look good and successful and admirable, and I don’t have to own the mess inside.

God calls us to places of surrender in order to do a deeper work in us. For Jonah, it was a big fish for three days. I can’t say how grateful I am that God has never felt He needed to throw me in a whale to get my attention.

For me, it’s places of unanswered prayer, unexpected disappointment, unmet desire, loneliness, trials. Those are places we would rather not be, but they are the places where God can bring us to the surrender that needs to happen for us to go deeper in Christ and further in mission.

This was a good reminder for me, to ask myself whether I am willing to sit in the places where He takes me, rather than trying to scramble out to a more pleasant existence. I need to surrender to His work within me.

What about you? Are you running from Him, or are you surrendering to His work?

Lean In

Why God Won’t Just Make It Easier

Faith for the Small Life

Post author:Gina B
Post published:June 8, 2017
Post category:faith

I’ve always been small, the runt of the litter. In all my pictures growing up, I’m the shortest one. People regularly assumed I was a few years younger than I was. In response, I became what you might call “scrappy.” Trying to appear bigger, stronger, more capable than I was.

I still do.

Our kids finished school a couple weeks ago, and, in true Gina form, I made a summer schedule for myself that belies the fact that they still live in our home and require some level of interaction. By the end of the first week, I was disappointed. So much of my time was spent not on the grand plans I had, but on the seemingly mundane tasks of laundry, driving, cooking, and cleaning.

I wanted more to show for my time. Many of us do. We want a broader influence, greater opportunities, upward mobility. Significance is the goal. Ordinary feels mediocre. The world calls us to accomplish visible, important tasks, not the day-to-day.

In contrast, the question was posed once at a conference I attended, “Do you have enough faith to live a small life?”

Do we have faith that God is just as much at work, just as glorified, just as powerful, in the small things? In us doing the ordinary? Doing less? Do we have faith that we would still be just as important?

Confession: most times, no. I do not have that kind of faith. I suspect many of us don’t.

A small life might ask more faith of me than a grand one.

I want that kind of faith.

In the eyes of the world, most of what I do is not spectacular, nor does it need to be.

So I should embrace my smallness.

I want to live every little moment fully, seeing God in every detail, experiencing His power in my weakness and my limits.

Give me faith, God, to believe that it is enough that You see what I do in secret, that You are honored by my willing sacrifice in the day-to-day.

Make me faithful with little, not that I would then gain much, but simply because it pleases Your heart.

May I be small so that others can be bigger, believing that them having more space does not diminish my worth.

I want to occupy only as much space in this world as God would have me occupy, no more, no less.

We might be small in the eyes of the world, but in those ordinary moments we can live lives that glorify Him when we do it willingly, joyfully, and with faith that it is enough.

“He must become greater, I must become less.” John 3:30

Related posts:

Redefining Success

A Willing Sacrifice

What Is Manna?

Manna for Each Moment

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The Difference between Complaining and Honesty

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“You’re right on time.”

God’s timing is not ours.

Finding Myself in the Wilderness

Finding God in the Wilderness

Finding He Is Enough

God already knows

Celebrate

Breathe

Trust

Savor

A small life might ask more faith of me than a grand one.