We217;ve all looked at this world and thought, it just doesn217;t seem like God217;s will is being done. Underneath that thought is a deeper fear that God217;s reserve of will and ability runs dry the way ours does. That fear is exactly what Jesus targets when He teaches us to pray 220;your will be done.221;
We can be full of hope and still put that hope in plans, forecasts, and outcomes that never arrive. When disappointment turns us into expert worriers—or convinces us that life will only get worse—we217;re reminded to look to our true hope and the Power behind it.
You think the picnic went great until you start to itch and realize you brought ticks home with you. What tick bites—those sneaky sins whose venom is already inside before you notice—do you have? Those are the ones Jesus came to rescue us from.
You open what looks like a personal Christmas card and it217;s just a pitch for insurance. There217;s always the something being snuck by us, isn217;t there? Jesus faced that same suspicion 212; how can we know He is really who He says He is?
If we217;re all fools, what217;s it matter if one fool hurts another? Does anything matter? To God, the answer is it does 212; and not all fools are alike because of Him.
You217;ve said it in the middle of the pain: there has to be more to this life than this. Israel lived that distance in Egypt—promised milk and honey yet making bricks from dawn to night, their cries seemingly unheard. Exodus 1–15 traces that groan toward a sea no one can part alone, and asks who can carry a captive people across it.
It is easy to look at a life that way and decide you are not ready to speak for God—too inexperienced, too uncertain, too likely to say it wrong. Jeremiah 1 opens with a prophet making exactly that case — and God’s answer to him.
What if zeal aimed at God can still be working against Him? The future Apostle Paul had plenty of zeal as he persecuted the church, but he would soon learn that isn217;t enough.