When I first sat down to write to you today, I almost walked away.
I told myself I didn't have anything
"newsworthy" to report—no giant leaps, no flashy announcements,
no major wins to show off. But as I sat with that feeling, I realized how
mistaken I was. I didn't need a headline to sit down with you and offer
encouragement. Sometimes the most important updates are the quiet, real ones
about where we are internally.
Reclaiming Strength in the Arena
I am four weeks into my time with my therapy horse, Cash.
Typically, I rely on a plastic step stool to mount and
dismount. But last week, the stool was out of town. Standing in the arena next
to Cash, I realized my only choice was to mount straight from the ground.
I genuinely didn't know if I had the coordination or the
strength to do it. But I took a breath, gathered myself, and made it up
into the saddle.
It made me feel incredible. It was proof that beneath the
surface, quiet strength has been building. It made me realize I am moving
closer to tackling other physical goals that have felt elusive—like climbing a
rock wall—and doing it under my own strength without relying on assistance.
Cash
Reading Job with New Eyes
That physical milestone coincided with a deep reflection
from my daily audio devotion on the Book of Job.
I’ve read Job multiple times over the years, but listening
to it this time unlocked something new in his long monologues. Job was
processing overwhelming grief—the loss of his children, his health, and his
entire livelihood. He was desperately trying to understand why, because Job
didn't know what we know from Chapters 1 and 2. He didn't see the
behind-the-scenes permission God granted; he was simply enduring the affliction
in the dark while holding onto his faith.
As Job reminisced about the man he used to be and how people
once viewed him, it struck a deep chord in me.
I have lost a lot over the years, and I realized that
part of my own sadness has been grieving the person I used to be. It’s not
necessarily a desire to turn back the clock, but rather a longing for what I
used to be capable of accomplishing. That is a very real, personal struggle—learning
to navigate the space between who you were and who you are becoming.
Losing the step stool in the arena was a small, physical
reminder that while I may be grieving past capabilities, I am actively
rebuilding new ones. We don't always know what's happening behind the
scenes of our hardest seasons, but we are capable of far more strength than we
give ourselves credit for.
God Works in the Dark: What Movies Get Wrong About the
Red Sea
We’ve all seen the Hollywood movie versions of the Red Sea
crossing. Moses lifts his staff, the ocean suddenly splits in two with dramatic
thunder, and the Israelites immediately march across on dry ground. It’s
instant, spectacular, and cinematic.
But when you read the account in Exodus, the reality is far
more profound. It wasn’t an instantaneous event. It was an all-night
process—one that teaches us how God works behind the scenes long before we can
see the path ahead.
Protection Before the Pathway
Exodus 14:19–20 "And the angel of God, which
went before the camp of Israel, removed and went behind them; and the pillar of
the cloud went from before their face, and stood behind them: And it came
between the camp of the Egyptians and the camp of Israel; and it was a cloud
and darkness to them, but it gave light by night to these: so that the one came
not near the other all the night."
Before God opened a door in front of the Israelites, He put
a shield behind them.
The Egyptian army was pursuing them, but God moved His
presence—the Angel of God and the pillar of cloud—from leading the front to
blocking the rear. All night long, that divine barrier kept the enemy at bay.
Before the Israelites ever saw a way forward through the water, God had already
secured them from behind. The miracle began not with an open sea, but with
quiet protection while they waited.
God Works in the Dark
Exodus 14:21 "And Moses stretched out his
hand over the sea; and the Lord caused the sea to go back by a strong east wind
all that night, and made the sea dry land, and the waters were divided."
Notice those three words: "all that night."
The sea didn't part in a split second. All through the
pitch-black hours, while the Israelites were trapped between an enemy and an
ocean, God was blowing a strong east wind.
To the people waiting in the dark, it might have felt like
hours of uncertainty and wind howling in the night. But behind the scenes, God
was continuously moving millions of gallons of water and drying muddy ground so
it would be firm enough for millions of feet to walk on by morning. Just
because you can’t see the path yet doesn’t mean God isn't actively preparing
it. He works hours before the outcome is visible.
"Stand Still" is an Act of Faith
Exodus 14:13–14 "And Moses said unto the
people, Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord, which he
will shew to you to day... The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your
peace."
When Moses told the people to "stand still," it
wasn't a call to passivity; it was a call to deep, disciplined trust.
Standing still in the middle of the night, knowing an army
is behind you and a sea is in front of you, requires active faith. God asked
them to hold their peace and trust His quiet labor in the dark. By the time
morning appeared, the wind had done its work, the ground was dry, and the
miracle was ready for them to step into.
The Small Victories and the "Buried Treasure"
This realization about the Red Sea resonated deeply with me
because of how it mirrors my own journey.
It is so easy to fall into the trap of only celebrating the
"instant" split-sea moments—the massive, overnight breakthroughs. But
God’s work, both in scripture and in our personal lives, often unfolds in those
quiet, all-night hours. The small, seemingly insignificant shifts are actually
the strong winds drying the ground beneath our feet.
That is why I choose to notice and celebrate all
things—even the things that might seem tiny to someone else.
Recently, while walking through the grocery store, I noticed
my shoe was untied. For a long time, dealing with an untied shoelace meant I
had to stop and find somewhere to sit down just to handle it. But this time,
without even thinking, I was able to simply bend over, tie my shoe, and keep
going.
To an outsider, tying a shoelace in an aisle is completely
ordinary. But to me? It was a milestone. It was evidence of strength, balance,
and progress that had been building quietly over time.
If we don't pay attention, we can easily dismiss these small
wins as "no big deal." But small changes snowball. Every tiny victory
is proof that the wind is blowing, the ground is drying, and progress is being
made.
Digging for the Good
It’s often far too easy to spot the negative and the
critical in ourselves. The flaws and the long road ahead tend to jump right
out at us. While I consider myself a realist who knows there is still
plenty of work ahead, I choose to be an optimist.
We have to intentionally look for the good.
Sometimes the good isn't standing on a mountaintop screaming
to be seen. Sometimes the good is like buried treasure—you have to dig deep
for it. But when you start looking for those hidden treasures in your daily
life, you realize that God is always working hours before the results are
obvious, moving things behind the scenes, and carrying you forward one small,
significant step at a time.
If you're in a season of quiet processing, grieving past
capacity, or rebuilding your footing—know that your journey matters, even when
it doesn't feel "newsworthy."
Have you ever experienced a quiet moment where you realized
you were stronger than you thought? I’d love to read your thoughts in the
comments below.
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