Today’s Reading: Job 5-8
Today, nothing significant happened.
And strangely enough, I think that’s important.
When I read this morning, I had a feeling that I wasn’t finished with today’s reflection yet. Nothing immediately jumped out as this is what I’m supposed to write about.
So I went through my day.
I noticed.
I prayed.
I listened.
And tonight, one word kept coming back to me:
Discernment.
Because right now, there is something in my life where I genuinely feel pulled in two different directions.
I’m going to keep the details of that private.
They aren’t really the important part of this story anyway.
The important part is:
I don’t know which direction is right.
And tonight, for perhaps the first time in this journey, I’m writing the story before I know what happens next.
How Do We Know What We’re Hearing?
This is something I’ve wondered about throughout this journey.
When we feel pulled toward something, how do we know where that feeling is coming from?
Is it God?
Is it our own intuition?
Is it something we simply want?
Is it fear?
Is it our need for control?
Is it the Holy Spirit?
And how do we tell the difference?
Tonight, my devotional focused on discernment and specifically on how we might recognize the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
Several things stood out.
Does what I’m sensing align with God’s Word and character?
Does it ultimately lead toward peace rather than deeper chaos and fear?
Does it produce growth and wisdom?
Those questions made sense to me.
But then came another suggestion:
Pray and ask God to confirm His direction.
That landed differently.
Because maybe I don’t have to figure this out tonight.
Maybe Discernment Isn’t Thinking Harder
I have an overthinking brain.
So when I’m uncertain, my natural response is usually to think more.
Analyze.
Compare.
Run through possibilities.
Predict outcomes.
Question my original conclusion.
Then question why I questioned the original conclusion.
And somewhere around there, we’ve opened approximately 47 mental browser tabs. 😂
So naturally, tonight I tried something.
I thought about each direction and asked myself:
What does my heart tell me?
And I noticed things.
Fear.
Anxiety.
Peace.
Trust.
Then almost immediately, I started questioning those things too.
Is that really peace?
Is that actually fear?
Am I interpreting this correctly?
Am I feeling that because it’s God’s direction – or because it’s what I want?
And eventually I realized:
Maybe thinking harder isn’t going to give me discernment.
Maybe I need to listen longer
Peace Doesn’t Necessarily Mean Easy
This is something else I want to be careful about.
I don’t think discernment can be reduced to:
Anxiety means no.
Peace means yes.
Sometimes doing the right thing is terrifying.
Sometimes growth requires walking directly into something uncomfortable.
Sometimes uncertainty naturally produces anxiety because we’re human.
Peter stepped out of a boat onto water.
I doubt his nervous system was particularly relaxed about it.
So perhaps the question isn’t simply:
Which option makes me feel calmer?
Maybe it’s deeper than that.
When I stop trying to predict every outcome…
When I stop trying to convince myself of an answer…
When I pray…
When I release my need to control what happens…
What remains?
I don’t know yet.
And tonight, I’m okay saying that.
Job and Our Need for Answers
Then I started thinking about today’s reading.
Job 5-8.
Job is suffering enormously.
And the people around him are trying to understand why.
Eliphaz begins offering explanations.
And some of what he says can sound incredibly wise.
That’s what I find interesting.
Because we, as readers, know something the people standing inside Job’s situation don’t know.
They don’t have the whole picture.
Yet human beings are incredibly uncomfortable with unanswered questions.
We want things to make sense.
This happened because…
God must be doing this because…
If you do this, then…
Clearly this means…
An explanation makes uncertainty feel more manageable.
But what if we simply don’t know yet?
Something sounding spiritual doesn’t automatically make our interpretation of God’s purpose correct.
Someone sounding certain doesn’t mean they have the full picture.
And maybe one of the things Job is already teaching me is this:
Confidence isn’t the same thing as clarity.
We Don’t Have to Fill the Silence
That connects directly to what I’ve been learning these last several entries.
Recently I wrote about not having to decide what the miracle looks like.
Today I’m realizing:
Maybe I don’t have to decide what the silence means either.
I don’t have to manufacture an answer because I want one.
I don’t have to interpret every development.
I don’t have to turn every feeling into a sign.
I don’t have to convince myself that one direction is God’s direction simply because I desperately want certainty.
And I don’t have to let someone else confidently tell me what God must be doing in my life either.
I can pray.
I can read.
I can listen.
I can ask for wisdom.
I can watch what develops.
And I can say:
I don’t know yet.
Not Knowing Isn’t the Same as Not Trusting
I think that’s the biggest thing I’m learning tonight.
For a long time, uncertainty could feel like something I needed to solve.
If I didn’t know what was happening, I needed to figure it out.
If I couldn’t figure it out, I needed to do something.
If there wasn’t anything to do, I would probably just think about it harder.
But I’m starting to understand something.
Not knowing isn’t the same as being lost.
And:
Not knowing isn’t the same as not trusting.
I can trust God and still have absolutely no idea what happens next.
Actually, maybe that’s where trust becomes real.
Faith isn’t particularly difficult when I already know the answer.
Trust becomes necessary when I don’t.
This Isn’t My Weight to Carry
I’ve been practicing something lately.
When my brain starts picking things up that don’t belong to me, I’m trying to recognize it faster:
This isn’t my weight to carry.
And I can feel that becoming more natural.
Not perfect.
But more natural.
That’s something I’m genuinely proud of throughout this journey.
I’m not just writing about surrender anymore.
I’m practicing it.
I’m trying to become more conscious throughout the day.
Is this mine?
Am I trying to control this?
Am I acting from fear?
Am I being led – or am I desperately trying to create certainty?
And instead of waiting until I’ve already spiraled to finally say:
Lord, Take Control,
I’m trying to say it before I pick the weight up in the first place.
That feels like growth.
Maybe Discernment Grows Too
A few entries ago, I wrote about the seed and the soil.
About roots growing where nobody can see them.
And now I’m wondering if discernment works similarly.
Maybe recognizing God’s guidance isn’t something we automatically know how to do perfectly.
Maybe it develops.
We read His Word.
We learn His character.
We pray.
We listen.
We make mistakes.
We learn our own patterns.
We start recognizing what fear sounds like in our minds.
We notice what control feels like.
We become more aware of what produces good fruit in our lives.
And maybe, over time, we become better at recognizing God’s voice because we’ve spent more time learning who He is.
The Word doesn’t simply give us answers.
It changes the person doing the listening.
And perhaps that’s another kind of root growing beneath the surface.
This Is the Part Before I Know
There is something different about writing tonight.
Usually when I share a Godwink or recognize a connection, I’m looking backward at something that has already happened.
Tonight, I’m writing from inside of it.
There are two directions in front of me.
I genuinely don’t know which one is right.
And as I write these words, I’m also praying.
Not for God to give me the answer I want.
I’m asking Him to confirm His direction.
I don’t know what I’ll write about this tomorrow.
I don’t know what I’ll understand a month from now.
Maybe I’ll eventually return to this entry and recognize something I couldn’t possibly understand tonight.
Maybe the answer will become obvious.
Maybe it won’t.
Maybe neither direction is where I’m ultimately going.
I don’t know.
And that’s what makes documenting this journey feel important.
This is the part before I know.
For several entries, I kept writing that Joseph couldn’t turn the page.
Tonight, neither can I.
And Maybe That’s Okay
Something else feels different this time.
I’m not panicking about the lack of movement.
I’m not convinced that because nothing happened today, I need to make something happen tomorrow.
I actually feel peace in saying:
Maybe I wasn’t ready for the answer today.
Maybe there’s more I need to learn.
Maybe something else needs to unfold.
Maybe I simply need to wait.
I don’t know.
But I don’t need to know tonight.
My responsibility is not to write the next chapter before I get there.
My responsibility is to continue living this one faithfully.
Read.
Pray.
Listen.
Notice.
Do what’s mine to do.
Put down what isn’t.
And ask:
Holy Spirit, lead me.
Questions I’m Leaving With
When I want an answer immediately, am I seeking discernment – or certainty?
Am I listening for God’s direction, or trying to make one of my own choices sound like His?
Can I recognize the difference between peace and simply choosing the option that feels safest?
Can I allow God to confirm something in His time instead of hunting for signs?
And can I trust Him enough to remain where I am until the direction becomes clearer?
Today’s Takeaway
You don’t have to understand everything you’re living while you’re living it.
You don’t have to fill every silence with an explanation.
You don’t have to manufacture clarity because uncertainty makes you uncomfortable.
Sometimes faith sounds like:
I don’t know yet.
I’m still listening.
I’m still praying.
And I still trust You.
So tonight, there is no ending to this story.
There is only the prayer I’m saying while I’m still inside of it:
Holy Spirit, lead me.
Confirm what needs to be confirmed.
Help me recognize what comes from You.
And until I know, help me remember that waiting does not mean I am lost.
Lord, Take Control.
Until next time… keep noticing.