Embracing the Journey

Today’s Reading: Exodus 25-28

I think I found a question I didn’t know I was missing.

For a long time, I’ve been learning how to surrender.

Fear still shows up, but I’m getting better at noticing it.

When the spiral starts, I catch it sooner.

And I keep returning to:

Lord, take control.

Lately, another phrase has joined it:

Surrender, Kristine.

All of that has helped.

A lot.

But there is one question that has started changing everything for me:

Is this actually mine to carry?

That check has become a missing piece I didn’t realize I needed.

Sometimes I was trying to surrender the entire situation while still carrying pieces of it that were never mine.

Someone else’s reaction.

Their decision.

Their opinion of me.

The outcome.

The timing.

The ending.

I would say I surrendered…

while quietly keeping all of that tucked under my arm.

Lately, though, something feels different.

Not because circumstances have suddenly become easier.

They haven’t.

There are still unanswered questions.

More work stress has actually been added.

Plenty of things remain that I would really like clarity on.

And yet, as I sit here writing this, I feel something I don’t know how to explain any other way.

Peace.

Joy, even.

Not because I know how everything ends.

Maybe because I’m finally learning what belongs in my hands – and what doesn’t.

What Is Actually Mine?

This question has become almost automatic lately.

Something happens.

Fear rises.

My mind starts moving.

And then:

Wait. What is actually mine to carry here?

My response?

Mine.

Integrity?

Also mine.

The words I choose?

Mine.

How I treat someone when I’m frustrated?

That belongs to me too.

So does whether I tell the truth, act with kindness, and do the next right thing in front of me.

But someone else’s reaction to that?

Not mine.

Their assumptions belong to them.

An outcome I cannot control does not become my responsibility just because I care about it.

And how everything eventually works out?

That isn’t mine either.

There is so much freedom in that distinction.

Because surrender becomes less vague.

It becomes practical.

Do my part. Release the rest.

Then My Devotional Said Almost Exactly That

This morning’s devotional was called “Upside Down and Inside Out.”

And there was a part that immediately stopped me.

The message was essentially:

Do your part and leave the rest to God.

I almost laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because…

There it is.

Again.

That is exactly what I’ve been practicing.

Not carry everything and ask God to help me manage it.

Not solve everybody’s reactions before they happen.

Not predict the outcome so I can feel safe.

Do your part.

Leave the rest.

It also talked about the way faith can become visible through how we live.

Sometimes people may never hear the prayer.

They may never know about the internal struggle.

They may not know how many times you had to stop yourself and say:

Lord, take control.

But they might see what happens afterward.

The patience.

The peace.

The honesty.

The way you handle something difficult.

The way you choose not to add more chaos to an already chaotic situation.

That brought me right back to something I’ve been realizing lately:

Maybe sharing God isn’t only about what I say. Maybe it’s also about what my life shows.

And Then I Read Exodus 25-28

At first glance, these chapters could be easy to skim.

There are a lot of details.

Materials.

Measurements.

Colors.

Furniture.

Garments.

Instructions.

Roles.

Specific people assigned to specific responsibilities.

But this time, all of those details fascinated me.

Because God didn’t simply say:

Build Me something.

He gave guidance.

Detailed guidance.

What materials to use.

How things should be made.

Where things should go.

Who should do what.

How the priests should be clothed.

How worship would be structured.

There was purpose behind the details.

And once again, I found myself thinking:

The guidance is there.

Not always the answer to the question I’m asking.

But often guidance for the part I’m actually responsible for.

God Didn’t Give Everyone the Same Assignment

That might be what stood out to me most.

Not everyone was assigned everything.

There were different roles, responsibilities, and instructions.

Aaron and his sons were set apart for priestly service.

Other people would build.

Some would give.

Others would make.

Each person had a part in something much bigger than any one of them.

That made me stop.

Because how often do I carry something simply because I can see it?

How often do I notice a problem and immediately assume I’m supposed to solve it?

And how often does knowing about something make me feel responsible for the entire outcome?

Maybe awareness and assignment are not the same thing.

Just because I can see something does not automatically mean it is mine to carry.

That feels huge for me.

Knowing Your Assignment Can Bring Peace

Maybe part of peace is being able to say:

This is my part.

Then I can focus on doing that part faithfully.

Not everybody else’s part.

Not the entire project.

Not the final result.

Just the piece that has actually been placed in my hands.

That doesn’t mean we stop caring about other people.

It doesn’t mean becoming passive or ignoring something that truly is our responsibility.

Instead, it means learning the difference between responsibility and control.

My choices are mine to make.

What someone else does with those choices is not something I can control.

Speaking truth belongs to me; forcing someone to believe it does not.

Leading with integrity is my responsibility. Managing every interpretation of that leadership is not.

I can offer help without being able to make someone accept it.

Prayer is mine.

Demanding a particular answer on my timeline is not.

Maybe that distinction is one of the things God has been teaching me this whole time.

The Details Matter Too

Something else about Exodus 25-28 really stayed with me.

God cared about the details.

That made me think about how easy it is to believe faith only lives in the big moments.

The crisis.

The breakthrough.

The enormous decision.

The dramatic answer.

But maybe faith is built just as much in the details.

How you speak when you’re frustrated.

Whether you repeat something you haven’t verified.

How you treat someone when you’re tired.

Whether you keep your word.

How you respond when no one is watching.

Whether you pause.

Whether you pray.

Whether you rest.

Whether you recognize:

This is mine.

Or:

This is not.

Those things can look small.

But small things repeated become patterns.

Patterns become responses.

Responses become part of who we are.

Even the Structure of Worship Fascinated Me

I also found the instructions around Aaron and the priests fascinating.

This wasn’t the Christian church as we know it today.

These chapters are establishing Israel’s priesthood and the tabernacle system of worship.

Still, I found myself thinking about how early we can see structure beginning to form around worship.

There were designated people.

Certain responsibilities belonged to them.

Sacred space was created intentionally, and preparation mattered.

The community was learning how to approach God together.

Order mattered.

So did responsibility.

Reverence was built into the process.

And once again, the idea of roles kept standing out to me.

Nobody was being asked to be everything.

That matters.

Because sometimes we think serving God means taking on more and more and more.

Maybe sometimes serving God well means understanding what He has given you to do – and resisting the urge to take ownership of everything else.

Maybe This Is Why I Feel Different

I’ve been trying to understand why I feel so much peace lately.

Especially because externally?

Not much has changed.

Some questions remain unanswered.

Some situations are more complicated.

There is still stress.

Still uncertainty.

Still plenty I could worry about.

And yet something in me feels settled.

I don’t think it’s because I suddenly know what God is going to do.

I don’t.

I don’t think it’s because every devotional or Scripture passage is promising me some specific outcome.

I’m careful about that.

But I do feel like everything I’ve been learning is beginning to work together.

Notice.

Check.

Choose.

Surrender.

And now:

What is mine to carry?

That one question changes so much.

Because once I know what is mine, I can focus on doing it well.

And once I recognize what isn’t mine…

I can stop trying to be God in places where I was never asked to be.

Maybe I Am Where I’m Supposed to Be

This is harder for me to put into words.

Because I don’t mean:

God has confirmed every decision I’ve made.

Or:

Everything happening around me must be exactly His plan.

I don’t know that.

What I mean is something much quieter.

I feel at peace continuing what I’m doing right now.

Reading.

Learning.

Writing.

Sharing.

Trying to live it.

Practicing surrender.

Trying to do good with what is directly in front of me.

And for the first time in a while, I don’t feel the same need to force myself to know where all of it is going.

Maybe that is what I mean when I say:

I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be.

Not because I can see the destination.

Because I feel peace about the next thing I’m doing.

And right now?

This is part of it.

Sharing This Journey Has Become Part of the Journey

I never expected writing about all of this to help me as much as it has.

The blog started as a place to document what I was learning.

But writing forces me to stop.

Notice.

Think.

Go back to Scripture.

Ask questions.

Be honest about what I’m feeling.

Test the thoughts I’m having.

And then try to turn what I’m learning outward:

Could this help somebody else too?

That part matters more to me now.

There are people who feel overwhelmed and are carrying things that were never theirs.

Others are afraid to talk about faith because they don’t have all the answers.

Some assume they need to understand the entire Bible before they can start reading it.

And plenty of people are waiting until they feel “better” before approaching God.

To all of them, I want to say:

Start.

Just start.

Read.

Question.

Notice.

Pray.

Learn.

Come back tomorrow.

You don’t have to know where the journey will take you before you begin it.

I certainly didn’t.

What If Your Part Is Smaller Than You Think?

Maybe you’re carrying an entire situation right now.

A family problem.

A work problem.

Someone else’s choices.

A relationship.

A future decision.

The way somebody sees you.

Or maybe it’s a result you desperately want.

Your brain may have decided:

I need to figure all of this out.

But what if you don’t?

What if there is a smaller question?

What is actually mine here?

Your part might be one conversation.

Perhaps it is an apology.

It could be a boundary that needs to be set.

Maybe honesty is what belongs to you today.

For someone else, it could be making the phone call, offering kindness, or finally taking a day of rest.

Your next right thing might simply be refusing to participate in something you know is wrong.

It may be one prayer.

One decision.

One step.

And then maybe the rest…

isn’t yours.

Questions I’m Leaving With

What am I carrying right now that was never actually assigned to me?

Where have I confused caring about something with being responsible for controlling it?

What is my actual part in the situation in front of me?

Am I doing that part faithfully?

Whose reaction am I trying to manage?

What outcome am I trying to force?

Where has God already given me guidance that I keep overlooking because I want certainty instead?

Do I believe small acts of faithfulness matter?

Am I allowing what I believe to shape how I actually live?

And if I released everything that isn’t mine…

what would be left in my hands?

Today’s Takeaway

Maybe you’ve been trying to surrender too.

But every time you put the burden down, you somehow find yourself carrying it again.

Before judging yourself for that, try asking one more question.

Is It Actually Yours

Maybe you’ve been trying to surrender too.

But every time you put the burden down, somehow you find yourself carrying it again.

Before judging yourself for that, try asking one more question.

Separate Caring From Carrying

Instead of starting with Do I care about this?, ask whether you are actually responsible for it.

Something can affect you deeply without being yours to control.

You can see what you think should happen without being responsible for making it happen.

So ask:

Is this mine to carry?

If it is, do your part.

Do it with honesty.

Integrity.

Compassion.

Courage.

Faith.

Then look again.

Some parts belong to other people.

Others belong to time.

There may be an outcome you simply cannot control.

And some things belong with God.

Release those.

You may have to release them again tomorrow.

That’s okay.

Peace May Come From Knowing Your Part

Maybe peace doesn’t always arrive because the problem disappeared.

Sometimes it comes when you finally understand:

I know what my part is.

That part, I can do.

Everything else does not have to come with me.

That’s what I’m learning right now.

God gave detailed instructions in Exodus because the details mattered.

Different people were given different roles because no one person was meant to carry the entire assignment alone.

Maybe that same principle can help us now.

You do not have to carry every person.

Someone else’s opinion does not belong in your hands.

Neither does every reaction, possibility, or ending.

Do your part.

Leave the rest.

And if you forget?

Notice.

Check.

Choose.

Surrender.

Then ask again:

What is mine to carry?

Keep moving from there.

Maybe that is enough for today.

Until next time… keep noticing..