When God Becomes Enough
I’ve been quiet lately.
Not because I’ve stopped loving people, and not because I’ve stopped enjoying time with my friends. If anything, my friends have been one of God’s greatest gifts during this season. We still go out, laugh together, and make memories I’ll always treasure.
My quietness has come from somewhere much deeper.
This season has been one of the hardest seasons of my walk with God. Not because I’ve doubted Him, but because I’ve found myself wrestling with things I never thought I would. The questions haven’t been about whether God is real. Those have never crossed my mind. My faith in Him has only grown stronger.
The questions have been about people.
I’ve struggled with the gap between what we say we believe and how we sometimes live. I’ve wrestled with inconsistencies that have been difficult for me to understand. More than once I’ve asked myself, “Am I the one getting this wrong?”
Whenever those thoughts come, I find myself praying the words of David:
“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.”
Psalm 139:23
I want God to correct me if I’m wrong. I don’t ever want pride to convince me that I have everything figured out. But I also don’t want to ignore the convictions He has placed in my heart simply because they’re uncomfortable.
If I’m honest, these thoughts have affected the way I’ve experienced church. There have been Sundays when my body was in the building, but my heart was carrying questions I couldn’t seem to put down.
For a while, I thought that made me a bad Christian.
Maybe if I prayed harder, these feelings would disappear. Maybe if I served more, I wouldn’t notice them anymore.
But that isn’t what happened.
Instead, God met me somewhere I wasn’t expecting.
He met me in the quiet.
He met me while reading my Bible at home. While cooking dinner. While hiking with David. While watching Aaron throw rocks into a lake. While holding Ezra. While sitting on my couch after everyone had gone to bed.
That’s when I realized something that I had known in my head for years but had never truly experienced.
The church is a gift.
But God isn’t confined to a building.
I still believe gathering together matters. Hebrews reminds us not to neglect meeting together because we encourage and strengthen one another. But this season has also taught me that God is just as present in my kitchen, on a hiking trail, or in the silence of an ordinary Tuesday as He is inside a sanctuary.
“Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together…”
Hebrews 10:24–25
This season has also exposed something about my own heart.
I like certainty.
I like plans.
I like peace in my home.
I want my boys to grow up seeing examples that point them toward Christ. When things don’t line up with that desire, I immediately want to fix them. I want to protect my peace. I want to defend what I believe is right.
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But over the last few months, I feel like God has been whispering the same words to me over and over again:
“This isn’t your battle.”
At first, I didn’t like hearing that.
I wanted God to change my circumstances. I wanted Him to fix what I couldn’t fix. Instead, He began changing me.
Every time I wanted to carry a burden that wasn’t mine, I kept coming back to this verse:
“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.”
Exodus 14:14
Being still doesn’t come naturally to me.
Trusting God while nothing around me seems to change doesn’t come naturally either.
But maybe that’s exactly what He’s been teaching me.
People will disappoint us. Sometimes they’ll misunderstand us. Sometimes they’ll fall short of the very things they believe. And if I’m not careful, I can become so focused on everyone else’s walk with God that I stop paying attention to my own.
I don’t want that.
I’d rather ask God to search my own heart first.
These days, life has become much slower, and maybe that’s not such a bad thing. I’ve been cooking more, reading more, watching movies with my family, spending time outdoors, and planning little adventures with David, Aaron, and Ezra. Summer is finally here, and I’m excited for slow mornings, pool days, hiking trails, and celebrating Ezra’s first birthday in August.
I’ve also been learning that healing doesn’t always happen in loud places.
Sometimes healing happens in the quiet.
“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.”
Isaiah 30:15
Maybe that’s why Psalm 46 has meant so much to me lately.
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
Psalm 46:10
The more I try to control everything around me, the more tired I become.
The more I surrender it to God, the more peace I find.
I still don’t have every answer. I still have questions. I still have days when I don’t understand why God allows certain things. But I’ve stopped asking Him to make everything around me easier.
Instead, I’ve started asking Him to make me more like Christ.
Because at the end of the day, people are going to disappoint me.
God never has.
And maybe that’s been the lesson all along.
“Whom have I in heaven but You? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides You. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
Psalm 73:25–26
If you’re walking through a quiet season too, I pray you find peace in knowing that God is still there, even when life feels confusing. May He give you wisdom, patience, and the strength to keep trusting Him one day at a time.
Until next time, take care of yourself, hug the people you love, and don’t forget to enjoy the quiet moments. Sometimes they’re the ones that change us the most.
Blessings!!
