IN CHRIST
Journey 1 — A New Beginning
Two lives. Two broken beginnings. One God already at work.
Daniel believes in God, but he has never truly known Him. Rachel knows Christ, but after heartbreak and loss, she is learning to trust God's plans for her future.
Neither knows the other exists.
Yet while Daniel begins again in a new town and Rachel waits upon the Lord, God is already working in both of their lives.
Sometimes what looks like the end of everything we knew is only the beginning of what God has prepared.
Scripture for the Journey:
2 Corinthians 5:17 (NKJV)
Listen To Journey 1
In Christ.
Journey 1 — A New Beginning
The highway stretched ahead of Daniel for miles.
Everything he owned . . . or at least everything he had decided was worth taking . . . was packed into the back of his SUV.
Clothes.
A few boxes of books.
Some tools.
A coffee maker.
And several cardboard boxes filled with pieces of a life he wasn't quite ready to sort through.
His phone rested in the holder beside the steering wheel, quietly giving directions to a town he had never seen.
Three hundred and twelve miles remaining.
Daniel glanced at the number and sighed.
“Nothing like starting over.”
The words disappeared beneath the hum of the tires.
Three months earlier, he would never have imagined himself here.
Divorced.
Leaving the company where he had worked for nearly twelve years.
Moving to another state.
Starting a new job.
Finding a new place to live.
Starting over at an age when he thought most of life's biggest decisions would already have been made.
Daniel had grown up believing in God.
At least, that was how he would have explained it.
His parents had taken him to church when he was young.
He knew many of the Bible stories.
He knew Christmas was about Jesus.
He knew Easter was about the resurrection.
He believed Jesus was the Son of God.
He believed Jesus died on the cross.
If someone had asked Daniel whether he was a Christian, he probably would have answered yes.
But God had always seemed more like a subject Daniel knew about than Someone he actually knew.
Church had given him information.
Life had given him questions.
And lately . . .
the questions seemed to be winning.
Daniel reached toward the radio and turned it on.
A preacher's voice filled the vehicle.
“Sometimes God allows everything we've used to define ourselves to be shaken.”
Daniel almost laughed.
“Great. Just what I needed.”
His hand moved toward the radio.
Then the preacher said something that stopped him.
“You are not your job. You are not your possessions. You are not your failures. And you are not what someone else has said about you.”
Daniel's hand remained suspended near the radio.
The road continued rolling beneath him.
“What does that leave?”
The preacher couldn't hear him, of course.
But the next words almost sounded like an answer.
“The real question is not simply, Who am I? The question is . . . Who am I in Christ?”
Daniel frowned.
He had heard words like that before.
In Christ.
Church words.
Religious words.
Words people said without ever explaining what they meant.
Daniel turned the radio off.
Silence returned to the vehicle.
But the question didn't.
Who am I?
For most of his adult life, Daniel could have answered that easily.
Husband.
Employee.
Provider.
Homeowner.
Someone who had his life reasonably well put together.
Now the marriage was gone.
The house had been sold.
The job was behind him.
And somewhere ahead was an apartment he had rented after seeing six photographs on the internet.
Daniel tightened his hands around the steering wheel.
For the first time in years, he wasn't certain how to answer the question.
Who am I?
. . .
Several hundred miles away, Rachel stood beside her kitchen window with a cup of coffee between her hands.
Her Bible lay open on the small table behind her.
Morning sunlight filled the room.
It had taken a long time for mornings to feel peaceful again.
There had been a time when mornings began with uncertainty.
Questions.
Arguments.
Eventually . . .
truth.
And then the painful discovery that the man she had trusted had been unfaithful.
Rachel had prayed for her marriage.
She had cried over it.
She had asked God questions she thought Christians weren't supposed to ask.
And when the marriage finally ended, she had wondered whether part of her had ended with it.
But God had remained faithful.
Slowly, she had learned something.
Her husband had been part of her life.
Her marriage had been part of her life.
But neither had ever been the source of her life.
Jesus was.
Rachel walked back to the table and looked at the passage she had been reading.
Second Corinthians, chapter five, verse seventeen.
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”
She had read the verse many times.
But today, one phrase seemed to remain in her heart.
In Christ.
Rachel smiled slightly.
“That's where my life is.”
Not in her past.
Not in what had happened to her.
Not in what someone else had done.
In Christ.
She closed her eyes.
“Father, thank You for bringing me through everything You've brought me through.”
She paused.
There was another prayer she had been praying for some time now.
“Lord . . . if marriage is still part of Your plan for me, I trust You with that too.”
Another pause.
“But this time, Father . . . You choose.”
Rachel remained quiet for a moment.
There had been a time when being alone frightened her.
Not anymore.
She had discovered something in those quiet months.
Being alone and being lonely were not the same thing.
She had Jesus.
And somewhere along the way, that truth had stopped being merely something she said.
It had become something she knew.
She didn't need another person to tell her who she was.
She didn't need another marriage to make her complete.
Her identity wasn't waiting somewhere in the future.
Her identity was already secure.
She belonged to Christ.
If God chose to bring another husband into her life someday, she would be thankful.
But she wasn't going to run ahead of Him.
She had done enough running.
This time . . .
she would wait.
Rachel opened her eyes, closed her Bible, and carried her coffee toward the kitchen sink.
She had no idea that at that very moment a man named Daniel was driving toward her town.
She didn't know that his entire life had just been turned upside down.
She didn't know that he knew many things about Jesus . . .
but had never truly surrendered his life to Jesus.
Daniel didn't know Rachel existed.
Rachel didn't know Daniel existed.
But God knew them both.
Daniel thought he was moving because of a job.
He thought he was leaving one chapter of his life behind and beginning another.
A different state.
A different town.
A different company.
A different apartment.
A fresh start.
But changing addresses could not change Daniel's heart.
A new job couldn't give him a new identity.
A different town couldn't erase his past.
And another relationship could never fill the place in him that belonged to God.
Daniel didn't understand any of that yet.
As far as he knew, he was simply driving toward a new town and trying to rebuild his life.
But God was already at work.
Not merely preparing Daniel to meet Rachel.
God was preparing Daniel to meet Jesus.
And before Daniel could truly understand who he was . . .
he would first have to discover whose he was.
The greatest new beginning of Daniel's life would have nothing to do with where he lived.
It would begin when the things he had known about Jesus moved from his head . . .
to his heart.
And someday, Daniel would understand the words he had heard on the radio that morning.
Who am I?
The answer was waiting for him.
In Christ.
Scripture for the Journey
Second Corinthians, chapter five, verse seventeen.
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”
The Light to Carry
You can know many things about Jesus without truly knowing Him.
Our identity in Christ begins when we first belong to Christ.
And sometimes what looks like the end of everything we knew . . .
is only the beginning of what God has prepared.
Journey 1 — A New Beginning
End
In Christ
Journey 2 — The Promise
A promise spoken. A future unknown. Two lives still moving toward a purpose only God can see.
Daniel is settling into a new town, a new job, and a life he never expected to be living. Changing his surroundings may be easy, but the questions and emptiness he carries with him are harder to leave behind.
Rachel knows God has spoken. Three times He has assured her that He will give her another husband. Yet knowing the promise doesn't mean knowing when—or how—it will be fulfilled. As she waits, Rachel begins learning that trusting God sometimes means surrendering even her expectations of how His answer should come.
They still haven't met.
Rachel has a promise. Daniel has questions. And from where either of them stands, the pieces don't seem to fit.
But God can already see the finished picture.
Scripture for the Journey:
Proverbs 3:5–6 (NKJV)
This sets up the artwork without giving away too much, and I especially like “They still haven't met.” After seeing Daniel and Rachel together in the artwork, that little line makes their separate journeys very clear.
Listen To Journey 2
In Christ
Journey 2 — The Promise
Daniel stood in the middle of his new apartment surrounded by cardboard boxes.
He had been there less than an hour.
Already, he hated the place.
Not because there was anything particularly wrong with it.
The apartment was clean.
The neighborhood seemed quiet.
The kitchen was small, but adequate.
There was even a little balcony overlooking a row of trees behind the building.
It simply wasn't home.
Daniel set another box on the kitchen counter and looked around.
Home.
He wasn't sure what that word meant anymore.
For years, home had meant a house, a wife, a familiar job, familiar streets, and knowing exactly where everything was supposed to be.
Now home was an apartment with bare walls and somebody else's idea of beige carpet.
Daniel opened a box marked Kitchen.
He pulled out a frying pan.
Then a screwdriver.
Then three coffee mugs wrapped in newspaper.
Daniel stared into the box.
“Apparently I had a packing system.”
He set the screwdriver on the counter.
“At least I'll be able to fix breakfast.”
For the first time that day, he laughed.
It felt good.
Daniel had always been able to find humor somewhere.
Even when life wasn't particularly funny.
He carried another box into the bedroom and dropped it beside the bed.
Tomorrow he would report for his first day at the new job.
New boss.
New coworkers.
New responsibilities.
Nobody there knew about the divorce.
Nobody knew what had happened.
Nobody knew the mistakes he had made or the things he wished he could change.
There was something strangely comforting about that.
He could simply be Daniel.
Then the question from the radio returned.
Who am I?
Daniel shook his head.
“Not that again.”
He went back to unpacking.
. . .
The first day at the new job went better than Daniel expected.
There were introductions he knew he would forget by lunchtime.
A tour of hallways and offices that all seemed to look alike.
Forms to complete.
Passwords to remember.
And more than once, Daniel found himself nodding as though he understood directions he was fairly certain he would have to ask someone to repeat later.
But the people seemed friendly.
His supervisor seemed fair.
And the work itself was familiar.
That helped.
By the third day, Daniel was beginning to recognize faces.
By Friday, he could find the break room without making a wrong turn.
It wasn't much.
But it was progress.
One of his coworkers stopped beside him near the end of the day.
“You settling in all right?”
Daniel nodded.
“Getting there.”
“Family make the move with you?”
The question was innocent.
Daniel hesitated.
“No.. Just me.”
The coworker nodded, apparently sensing there was more to the answer.
“Well, if you need anything, let us know.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.”
The conversation lasted less than a minute.
But Daniel thought about it on the drive home.
Family.
For years, the answer to that question had been easy.
Now even simple questions seemed to require explanations.
When he reached the apartment, Daniel unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Silence greeted him.
He tossed his keys onto the counter.
For a moment he simply stood there.
At work there had been voices.
Phones.
People walking past.
Questions.
Laughter.
Here there was nothing.
Daniel turned on the television without really caring what was on.
The sound helped.
He heated something for dinner, sat down, and stared at a program he wasn't watching.
Moving had changed his surroundings.
It hadn't changed him.
That realization bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
. . .
Rachel sat at her kitchen table with her Bible open and a notebook beside it.
At the top of the page she had written:
What I Don't Want.
Underneath it was a list.
Dishonest.
Unfaithful.
Selfish.
Controlling.
Someone I can't trust.
Rachel stared at the words.
Every one of them had come easily.
Too easily.
She rested her pen on the table.
“Lord, I seem to be pretty good at knowing what I don't want.”
She looked down at the list again.
The problem was that almost everything on the page came from pain.
Her past was writing her future.
Rachel slowly drew a line through the heading.
She turned to a fresh page.
This time she wrote:
What Should I Want?
She paused.
“That seems like a better question.”
Rachel opened her Bible.
If God truly intended to bring a new husband into her life, she didn't want to choose merely by attraction.
She had done enough trusting her own judgment.
This time she wanted God's wisdom.
She began writing.
A man of integrity.
Faithful.
Kind.
Patient.
A man who keeps his word.
Someone who will love my children.
Someone who will put God first.
Rachel stopped.
That last one mattered more than all the others.
She underlined it.
Someone who will put God first.
She leaned back in her chair.
The list wasn't about finding a perfect man.
Rachel knew enough to understand that such a man didn't exist.
It was about character.
And it was about trusting God enough not to settle simply because she was lonely.
And Rachel was lonely.
She didn't like admitting it.
She loved the Lord.
She loved her children.
She had friends.
She had a church family.
Her life wasn't empty.
But there were evenings when the house became quiet and she wished there were someone beside her.
Someone to talk with.
Someone to laugh with.
Someone with whom she could share the ordinary parts of life.
Rachel looked toward the ceiling.
“You already know that.”
She smiled.
“I'm not telling You anything You don't know.”
. . .
And then she remembered the promise.
The first time it happened, Rachel had not been expecting anything unusual.
She had been going through an ordinary day when the words came clearly enough that she stopped what she was doing.
God was going to give her a new husband.
Rachel stood still.
A new husband?
After what she had just lived through, the thought was almost frightening.
“Lord . . . are You sure?”
She immediately realized how ridiculous the question sounded.
Of course God was sure.
Rachel was the one who wasn't.
For a while she wondered whether the words had simply come from her own desire.
Maybe she wanted companionship badly enough that she had mistaken her own thoughts for God's voice.
So she didn't build her life around that one moment.
She waited.
Then it happened again.
The same message.
The same assurance.
God was going to give her a new husband.
This time Rachel didn't dismiss it so easily.
“Again?”
She carried those words with her.
She prayed about them.
She wondered about them.
And then . . .
a third time.
The promise came again.
Three times.
By then Rachel understood.
This wasn't simply wishful thinking.
God had spoken.
He was going to give her a new husband.
Rachel didn't know his name.
She didn't know where he lived.
She didn't know what he looked like.
She didn't know when he would appear.
She only knew what God had promised.
And somehow, knowing made the waiting both easier . . .
and harder.
Because now every quiet evening carried the possibility of tomorrow.
Every new face raised a question.
Every passing month made her wonder.
“When, Lord?”
There were days when Rachel felt completely content to wait.
And there were other days when waiting felt like one more thing she had to endure.
She sometimes felt guilty about that.
Shouldn't trusting God be enough?
Shouldn't knowing Jesus mean she never felt lonely?
But Rachel was learning that faith did not require her to pretend.
She could love Christ completely and still desire companionship.
She could trust God's promise and still wonder when it would happen.
She could be grateful for the life she had and still hope for something more.
God already knew her heart.
There was no reason to hide it from Him.
So Rachel talked to Him.
Sometimes reverently.
Sometimes tearfully.
And sometimes with the comfortable honesty of a daughter talking to her Father.
“When?”
. . .
Sunday morning, Rachel sat in her usual place at church.
The worship had ended, and the pastor had begun his message.
Rachel was listening.
Mostly.
Then she noticed a man sitting several rows ahead.
She tilted her head slightly.
He seemed nice enough.
He had a Bible.
That was a good start.
Rachel looked toward the front again.
A few seconds passed.
Then her eyes wandered back.
“Lord?”
She waited.
Nothing.
“What about him?”
Still nothing.
Rachel tried to focus on the sermon.
A minute later she glanced toward the man again.
Nothing.
She sighed quietly.
The following Sunday, there was someone else.
Rachel noticed him talking with several people after the service.
She gave God another little inward nudge.
“What about that one?”
Nothing.
Week after week, Rachel kept watching.
And asking.
She knew God had promised.
So surely the obvious place to find a godly husband was church.
Her mother had certainly made that clear.
If you wanted a Christian husband, you looked for him among Christian people.
It made perfect sense.
Rachel continued giving God her little spiritual elbow.
“Him?”
Nothing.
“How about him?”
Nothing.
“Lord, I'm trying to help You here.”
Rachel caught herself and nearly laughed out loud.
“All right. Maybe You don't need my help.”
Another Sunday came.
Rachel deliberately tried not to look around.
She was going to worship.
She was going to listen to the message.
She was not going husband hunting.
At least that was the plan.
Then someone she hadn't noticed before walked across the sanctuary.
Rachel's eyes followed him.
She caught herself.
“Lord . . .”
She stopped.
“No.. I'm not doing it.”
A few seconds passed.
“What about him?”
Rachel lowered her head and smiled.
She could almost imagine God patiently waiting for her to finish.
Then came the answer.
Clear enough that Rachel stopped smiling.
You're not going to meet him in church.
Rachel sat very still.
“What?”
She looked around the sanctuary.
Surely she had misunderstood.
Not in church?
That didn't make any sense.
Everything she had been taught told her that church was exactly where she should meet him.
Rachel lowered her eyes.
“Lord . . . my mother is not going to understand this.”
She almost smiled again.
But underneath the humor was a serious question.
If she wasn't going to meet him in church . . .
where was she going to meet him?
At work?
At a grocery store?
Standing in line somewhere?
Rachel shook her head slightly.
God had told her what she needed to know.
Apparently He had decided she didn't need the rest yet.
So Rachel did the only thing she knew to do.
She waited.
. . .
Across town, Daniel's alarm went off before sunrise.
He reached for it, missed, knocked something off the nightstand, and finally found the button.
His first week at the new job had gone better than expected.
He liked the people.
The work was familiar enough that he didn't feel completely lost.
His new boss seemed fair.
For the first time in months, Daniel felt as though something in his life might actually work out.
He made coffee and stood beside the window while the sky slowly brightened.
There were still boxes everywhere.
But fewer than before.
He had found the coffee maker.
That alone felt like progress.
Daniel looked out over the unfamiliar town.
Somewhere down there were grocery stores he hadn't found yet.
Restaurants he'd never tried.
Streets he didn't know.
People he'd never met.
A whole life he couldn't see.
Daniel took another drink of coffee.
“Guess we'll find out.”
He didn't know what he meant by it.
Maybe the job.
Maybe the town.
Maybe his life.
But Daniel was beginning to understand that starting over wasn't something that happened in a single day.
You could change your address overnight.
You could change jobs.
You could cross a state line.
But some things traveled with you.
Questions.
Memories.
Regrets.
And an emptiness Daniel still didn't know how to name.
Several miles away, Rachel closed her Bible and looked again at the list she had made.
Someone who will put God first.
She had no intention of compromising that.
Daniel didn't know Rachel existed.
Rachel didn't know Daniel existed.
She had God's promise.
Daniel had questions.
Rachel was waiting for a man who would put God first.
And Daniel had not yet learned what it meant to truly know God at all.
From where either of them stood, the pieces didn't fit.
But God could already see the finished picture.
And sometimes faith begins right there . . .
when we trust Him with pieces that don't seem to fit.
Scripture for the Journey
Proverbs, chapter three, verses five and six.
“Trust in the LORD with all your heart, And lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, And He shall direct your paths.”
The Light to Carry
God's direction does not always look the way we expect.
Rachel had a promise, but she didn't have the answer.
Daniel had a new beginning, but he didn't yet understand its purpose.
Neither could see what God was doing.
But God was already directing their paths.
Sometimes trusting God means letting Him write a story we could never have planned for ourselves.
Journey 2 — The Promise
End
In Christ
Journey 3 — He Knows What You Need
When there isn't enough for tomorrow, faith learns to trust God for today.
Rachel is doing everything she can to provide for Ethan and Lily. Two part-time jobs, bills that keep coming, a nearly empty gas tank, and two children depending on her can make tomorrow feel overwhelming.
Yet in the middle of ordinary struggles, Rachel keeps discovering something extraordinary: her heavenly Father already knows what she needs.
Sometimes His provision comes through an unexpected meal. Sometimes through someone willing to help with the children. Sometimes it's simply enough for one more day.
Across town, Daniel's circumstances couldn't look more different. His paycheck covers the bills. His truck has gas. His new life is beginning to settle into place.
Yet something is still missing.
Rachel has needs she cannot always meet—but she knows her Father.
Daniel has nearly everything he needs—but he's beginning to wonder why God still seems so far away.
Two different lives. Two different kinds of emptiness. And one God already at work in both.
Scripture for the Journey:
Matthew 6:31–33
The Light to Carry:
God may not show us today how He will provide for every tomorrow. He asks us to trust the Father who already knows what we need.
Listen To Journey 3
In Christ.
Journey 3 — He Knows What You Need.
. . .
The alarm went off at five thirty.
Rachel opened one eye.
For several seconds, she considered pretending she hadn’t heard it.
Then came a small voice from the hallway.
“Mom?”
Rachel closed her eye again.
Maybe if she didn’t move . . .
“Mom?”
Rachel sighed.
“I’m awake, Lily.”
A six-year-old face appeared around the bedroom door.
“I can’t find Bunny.”
Of course.
Bunny was a stuffed rabbit who had apparently developed the ability to disappear at the worst possible times.
Rachel pushed back the covers.
“Did you look in your bed?”
“Yes.”
“Under your bed?”
“Yes.”
“Bathroom?”
Lily looked confused.
“Why would Bunny be in the bathroom?”
Rachel sat up.
“At five thirty in the morning, I’m not prepared to answer that question.”
Lily giggled.
Rachel smiled despite herself.
“Come on. Let’s find Bunny.”
They found him less than two minutes later.
In Lily’s bed.
Under the blanket.
Exactly where Rachel had suggested looking first.
“I looked there.”
“Of course you did.”
Rachel handed her the rabbit and kissed the top of her head.
“Back to bed for a little while.”
“But you’re up.”
“I’m the mom. Moms make questionable decisions.”
Lily didn’t understand the joke, but she laughed anyway.
Rachel watched her disappear down the hallway.
Then she looked at the clock.
Five thirty-seven.
Seven minutes gone.
Her day had officially begun.
. . .
By six thirty, the quiet house had become controlled chaos.
Mostly controlled.
“Ethan, breakfast.”
“Coming.”
“You said that five minutes ago.”
“I’m getting dressed.”
“You were getting dressed five minutes ago.”
Silence.
Rachel poured cereal into a bowl.
“Ethan?”
“I’m coming!”
Eight-year-old Ethan finally appeared wearing one sock and carrying the other.
“Where are your shoes?”
Ethan looked down at his feet as though surprised to discover shoes were required.
“I know where they are.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow.
“That wasn’t my question.”
Lily came into the kitchen carrying Bunny.
“Ethan lost his shoes.”
“I did not.”
“You don’t have them.”
“I know where they are.”
“Then why aren’t you wearing them?”
“Lily.”
“What?”
Rachel set two bowls on the table.
“Both of you. Eat.”
For the next several minutes there was peace.
Rachel leaned against the counter with a cup of coffee and watched them.
Ethan was becoming more independent every day.
He was thoughtful.
Sometimes too thoughtful for an eight-year-old.
He noticed things.
He noticed when Rachel was tired.
He noticed when money was tight.
He noticed when his mother said, “Maybe next time,” instead of telling him they couldn’t afford something.
Rachel wished he didn’t notice quite so much.
Lily was different.
Six years old and full of questions.
She could move from laughter to tears and back to laughter before Rachel had figured out what caused the tears.
Together, they were exhausting.
And wonderful.
Rachel wouldn’t have traded either of them for anything.
She glanced at the clock.
Wonderful was about to make her late.
“Okay. Let’s move.”
. . .
Rachel worked two part-time jobs.
Neither paid much.
Together, they paid enough.
Usually.
Her morning job gave her hours while the children were in school.
Her second job was at a convenience store several evenings a week and some weekends.
It wasn’t the life Rachel had planned.
But plans had become something she held much more loosely these days.
Her first marriage had taught her that.
She had learned how quickly life could change.
She had also learned something else.
God didn’t change with it.
That didn’t mean everything became easy.
Some months Rachel looked at the bills and honestly didn’t know how everything was going to get paid.
There was rent.
Utilities.
Food.
Gas.
School expenses.
Shoes that children seemed determined to outgrow three weeks after she bought them.
And all the little expenses no budget ever seemed to remember.
That morning, Rachel sat in her truck in the parking lot before going inside to work.
She opened her wallet.
Twenty-three dollars.
Payday was still several days away.
The fuel gauge was getting uncomfortably close to empty.
Rachel rested her head against the seat.
“All right, Father.”
She took a breath.
“You know what I have.”
Another breath.
“You know what I need.”
She looked at the building in front of her.
“And You know I’m tired.”
There.
She had said it.
Rachel wasn’t complaining.
At least she didn’t think she was.
She was simply tired.
Tired of calculating.
Tired of deciding which bill could wait two more days.
Tired of stretching one paycheck until the next one arrived.
Tired of being responsible for everything.
For just a moment, she allowed herself to feel it.
Then Rachel closed her eyes.
“Thank You for my jobs.”
That one wasn’t quite as easy to say.
She said it anyway.
“Thank You that the kids have food. Thank You that we have a home. Thank You that You’ve taken care of us.”
Rachel opened her eyes.
Nothing outside had changed.
Twenty-three dollars was still twenty-three dollars.
The fuel gauge was still low.
The bills were still waiting.
But something inside Rachel had changed.
She wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.
She picked up her purse.
“One day at a time.”
And went to work.
. . .
Across town, Daniel was discovering that his new routine wasn’t terrible.
He had even begun to like it.
Coffee on the way to work.
The same parking spot most mornings.
Lunch with a few coworkers.
Home in the evening.
Television.
Sleep.
Repeat.
There was a predictability to it.
After the upheaval of the last several months, predictable felt good.
Laura stopped beside his desk.
“You ever actually leave this place for lunch?”
Daniel looked up.
“There’s a break room.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
Daniel smiled.
“I’ve been here, what, two weeks?”
“Exactly. And you still don’t know where anything is.”
“I know where the break room is now.”
Laura laughed.
“Congratulations.”
She pointed toward the door.
“There’s a little place about five minutes from here. A few of us are going.”
Daniel hesitated.
Then shrugged.
“Sure. Why not?”
It was nothing important.
Lunch with coworkers.
Conversation.
Laughter.
For an hour, Daniel almost forgot that he was the new guy starting over.
Someone complained about the boss.
Someone else told a story that grew more ridiculous every time he added another detail.
Laura caught Daniel laughing.
“There. You do know how.”
“How to what?”
“Have fun.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I’ve been known to do it occasionally.”
For the first time since moving, Daniel felt something that resembled normal.
He didn’t know how much he had missed it.
. . .
That evening Rachel stood behind the convenience-store counter watching the minutes move far too slowly.
Her feet hurt.
Her back hurt.
And she still needed to go home, check Ethan’s homework, make sure Lily had everything ready for school, and somehow get everyone into bed at a reasonable hour.
The store was quiet.
Rachel looked toward the clock.
Another hour.
The door opened and an older woman from Rachel’s church walked in.
Rachel recognized her immediately.
“Hi, Miss Carol.”
“Well, hello.”
Carol walked toward the counter carrying a small bag.
“I was hoping you’d be here.”
Rachel smiled.
“That sounds dangerous.”
Carol set the bag on the counter.
“I made too much.”
Rachel looked inside.
There were several containers of food.
Enough for more than one meal.
Rachel looked back at her.
“You made too much?”
“That’s my story.”
Rachel knew better.
Carol lived alone.
She hadn’t accidentally cooked enough food for a family.
“Carol . . .”
“Don’t argue with me.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were thinking about it.”
Rachel laughed.
“Maybe.”
Carol pushed the bag toward her.
“Take it home. Feed those babies.”
“They’re not babies anymore.”
“They’ll always be babies to somebody.”
Rachel looked into the bag again.
Dinner.
Maybe two dinners.
Money she wouldn’t have to spend at the grocery store.
Carol couldn’t possibly know what Rachel had prayed that morning.
Could she?
Rachel swallowed.
“Thank you.”
Carol smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
Then, almost as an afterthought, she added:
“Oh, and I can take the kids Saturday if you need me to.”
Rachel stared at her.
Saturday.
Rachel had been offered an extra shift Saturday afternoon.
She had turned it down because she didn’t have anyone to watch Ethan and Lily.
“Why?”
Carol shrugged.
“Why what?”
“Why are you offering to take the kids?”
“Because I like them.”
“You voluntarily want Ethan and Lily together for several hours?”
Carol laughed.
“I didn’t say I was wise.”
Rachel laughed with her.
But she could feel tears beginning behind her eyes.
She blinked them away.
“Actually . . . I was offered an extra shift Saturday.”
“Well, there you go.”
Rachel looked down at the bag.
Then at Carol.
“Did somebody tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“That I needed help.”
Carol’s expression softened.
“No..”
Rachel didn’t say anything.
Carol reached across the counter and squeezed her hand.
“But maybe Somebody did.”
. . .
Rachel drove home later with the bag of food on the passenger seat.
The fuel light came on.
Normally that little orange light would have tightened something inside her.
Tonight Rachel smiled.
“Yeah. I see you.”
She stopped at a gas station and put ten dollars into the tank.
Not enough to fill it.
Enough to get where she needed to go.
For now.
And somehow, tonight, enough felt different.
. . .
When Rachel walked through the front door, Lily came running.
“Mom!”
Rachel barely had time to put the food down before Lily wrapped both arms around her.
Ethan appeared behind her.
“Miss Carol brought us food?”
“How did you know?”
“She told us at church she makes good chicken.”
Rachel laughed.
“Well, apparently we’re going to find out.”
Ethan looked into the bag.
“Can we eat it tonight?”
“It’s late.”
“I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry.”
“I’m growing.”
“That seems to be the problem.”
Ethan grinned.
Rachel watched the two of them unpack the containers.
Something warm settled over her.
That morning she had sat in her truck with twenty-three dollars and a nearly empty gas tank.
Nothing dramatic had happened.
No check had arrived in the mail.
Nobody had handed her hundreds of dollars.
Her bank account hadn’t mysteriously changed.
But dinner had been provided.
Childcare had been provided.
An extra shift had become possible.
And she had enough gas for today.
Today.
Rachel was beginning to understand something about God’s provision.
She wanted God to show her how everything would work out next month.
God kept giving her what she needed for today.
. . .
Later, after Ethan and Lily were asleep, Rachel returned to the kitchen table.
The bills were still there.
She picked up one envelope.
Then another.
She added the numbers again.
They hadn’t changed.
Rachel smiled.
“I thought maybe You might have changed the math.”
She waited.
Nothing.
“Worth a try.”
She reached for her Bible.
It opened near a passage she had read many times before.
Matthew chapter six.
Rachel read slowly.
“Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’”
She stopped.
That felt a little too specific tonight.
Rachel continued.
“For after all these things the Gentiles seek. For your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.”
Rachel’s eyes remained on those words.
Your heavenly Father knows.
Not guesses.
Not discovers after she asks.
Knows.
Before Rachel had counted the money that morning, He knew.
Before the fuel gauge dropped toward empty, He knew.
Before the extra shift became available, He knew.
Before Carol cooked too much food that she hadn’t really cooked too much of . . .
He knew.
Rachel smiled.
Then she read the next verse.
“But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“I’m trying, Father.”
She rested her hand on the open Bible.
“Some days I’m better at trusting You than others.”
The house was quiet.
But Rachel didn’t feel alone.
. . .
Daniel sat in his apartment that same evening with his feet on the coffee table.
His paycheck had been deposited that morning.
The bills were paid.
There was food in the refrigerator.
His truck had plenty of gas.
The new job was going well.
He had even made a few friends.
Daniel should have felt satisfied.
Instead, the television played while he stared past it.
That question was back again.
Who am I?
Daniel picked up the remote and changed the channel.
Then changed it again.
And again.
Nothing held his attention.
He turned the television off.
The apartment became silent.
Daniel looked around.
Everything was beginning to find its place.
Pictures had been hung.
Most of the boxes were gone.
The kitchen actually looked like someone lived there.
His new life was taking shape.
So why did something still feel missing?
Daniel stood and walked onto the balcony.
The night air was cool.
Lights stretched across the town below him.
Thousands of people living thousands of lives.
Somewhere a dog barked.
A car passed on the street below.
Daniel leaned against the railing.
He had spent most of his life believing in God.
At least that’s what he had always said.
He believed God existed.
He believed the Bible was important.
He believed Jesus was the Son of God.
Those were facts Daniel had known since childhood.
But standing there alone, another question began to form.
If he believed all of that . . .
why did God seem so far away?
Daniel didn’t have an answer.
Not yet.
. . .
Several miles away, Rachel turned off the kitchen light and walked down the hallway.
She stopped first at Ethan ’s room.
He was asleep sideways across the bed.
Rachel pulled the blanket over him.
Then Lily.
Bunny was tucked beneath one arm.
Rachel kissed her forehead.
At the doorway, she stopped.
That morning she had wondered how she was going to make everything work.
Tonight she still didn’t know how everything was going to work.
But she knew something more important.
Her Father knew what she needed.
And He had been faithful today.
Tomorrow would belong to Him too.
. . .
Scripture for the Journey.
Matthew, chapter six, verses thirty-one through thirty-three.
Jesus reminds us not to be consumed with worry over the necessities of life, because our heavenly Father already knows what we need.
And then He gives us the direction for where our attention belongs:
“But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.”
. . .
The Light to Carry.
Rachel still had bills.
She still had two jobs.
Her gas tank wasn’t full.
And tomorrow morning, Ethan would probably lose his shoes again.
Nothing about following Christ promised Rachel a life without difficulty.
What she had was something different.
She had learned where to take the difficulty.
Her Father knew.
He knew about the twenty-three dollars.
He knew about the empty gas tank.
He knew about Saturday’s extra shift before Rachel knew how she could possibly work it.
He knew about dinner.
He knew about Ethan and Lily.
And He knew exactly how tired Rachel was when she sat in that parking lot and prayed.
God’s provision did not always arrive the way Rachel expected.
Sometimes it was an answer she could clearly recognize.
Sometimes it came through another person.
Sometimes it was simply enough strength for another day.
And sometimes His provision was the quiet assurance that she didn’t have to understand tomorrow because God was already there.
Daniel was beginning to discover something from the opposite direction.
His paycheck could fill his gas tank.
His job could pay his bills.
His apartment could give him somewhere to live.
But none of those things could answer the question growing inside him.
He had spent much of his life knowing things about God.
Sooner or later, Daniel would have to discover whether knowing about God was enough.
Rachel already knew the answer.
There is a difference between believing God exists . . .
and knowing Him as Father.
That relationship doesn’t mean there will never be an empty cupboard, an unexpected bill, a difficult day, or a night when the answers don’t come.
It means that when those days arrive . . .
we know Who holds tomorrow.
And because we are in Christ, we can trust the Father who already knows what we need.
. . .
In Christ
Journey 3 — He Knows What You Need.
End.
In Christ
Journey 4 — When the Answer Looks Right
Sometimes the hardest thing to discern isn't a closed door. It's an open one.
An unexpected message brings someone from Rachel's past back into her life—an old school friend she once had feelings for. The memories are warm, the conversations are easy, and suddenly Rachel begins to wonder:
Could this be the husband God promised?
There is nothing obviously wrong with the possibility. But Rachel is learning that trusting God means more than finding something that seems to fit. It means allowing Him to write the story without rushing ahead to write the ending herself.
Across town, Daniel is dealing with an emptiness of his own. A visit to an animal shelter introduces him to Sadie, a Sheltie mix who quickly makes his apartment—and his life—a little less lonely.
And when Daniel finally opens the guitar case that's been sitting untouched since his move, another small piece of his future quietly begins to appear.
Rachel has found a possibility.
Daniel has found companionship.
Both are good things.
But good things can never take the place of God's direction.
Scripture for the Journey:
Psalm 37:5
The Light to Carry:
Sometimes the answer looks right. Faith waits long enough to ask whether it is God's answer.
Listen To Journey 4
In Christ
Journey 4 — When the Answer Looks Right
Saturday morning began with pancakes.
Or, more accurately, Saturday morning began with an argument about pancakes.
“I want chocolate chips.”
Rachel poured batter onto the griddle.
“We don't have chocolate chips.”
Lily considered this unacceptable.
“Why?”
“Because somebody ate them.”
Ethan looked up from the kitchen table.
“Don't look at me.”
“I wasn't.”
“You were thinking it.”
Rachel turned toward him.
“Apparently everybody in this family knows what I'm thinking today.”
Lily climbed onto her chair.
“Can we buy more?”
“Eventually.”
“When?”
“Eventually is not a date, Lily.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you ask?”
Lily shrugged.
Rachel shook her head and turned back to the stove.
Saturday mornings were one of the few times she didn't have to rush the children out the door before she had completely awakened.
She had worked the extra shift Carol made possible the week before.
That money had helped.
Not solved everything.
Helped.
Rachel was learning to appreciate that word.
Helped.
There was still a stack of bills on the kitchen counter.
But there was also food in the refrigerator.
Enough gas in the truck.
And two children arguing over who had received the larger pancake.
Normal life.
Rachel smiled.
She had discovered that sometimes God's provision wasn't something dramatic enough to tell everyone about.
Sometimes it looked like an ordinary Saturday morning when everyone had enough.
Her phone buzzed on the counter.
Rachel glanced toward it.
A message.
She flipped a pancake and ignored it.
The phone buzzed again.
“Mom, your phone.”
“I hear it.”
“Somebody wants you.”
“Thank you, Ethan.”
“It might be important.”
“Then they'll still be important after breakfast.”
Ethan returned to his pancake.
A minute later curiosity won.
Rachel picked up the phone.
The name on the screen made her stare.
She hadn't seen it in years.
Many years.
For a moment she wondered whether it could be somebody else with the same name.
Then she opened the message.
Hi, Rachel. I hope this isn't strange. I came across your name and wondered if it was really you. It's been a long time.
Rachel read it again.
Then she smiled.
“Wow.”
Ethan looked up.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You said wow.”
“People are allowed to say wow.”
“Who is it?”
“An old friend.”
Lily leaned across the table.
“How old?”
Rachel laughed.
“Not that kind of old.”
“How old is he?”
“Eat your pancake.”
Lily looked at Ethan.
“It's a boy.”
Rachel pointed the spatula toward her.
“Pancake.”
Lily grinned and obeyed.
Rachel looked at the message again.
An old friend.
That was true.
But it wasn't quite the whole truth.
There had been a time when Rachel would have been thrilled to receive that message.
A very long time ago.
Before marriage.
Before children.
Before heartbreak.
Back when Rachel was a girl trying to imagine what her life might someday become.
She had liked him.
More than liked him, if she was being honest.
Rachel felt herself smiling at the memory.
“That's been a long time.”
“What's been a long time?” Ethan asked.
Rachel put the phone down.
“Nothing gets past you, does it?”
“No.”
“I've noticed.”
. . .
Across town, Daniel was discovering something about Saturday mornings too.
They were long.
During the week he had work.
People.
Schedules.
Things that needed his attention.
Saturday was different.
Daniel had already cleaned the apartment.
He had done laundry.
He had gone grocery shopping.
He had even reorganized a kitchen cabinet that didn't need reorganizing.
It wasn't yet noon.
Daniel sat on the couch.
The television was on.
He wasn't watching it.
Again.
He picked up the remote.
Changed the channel.
Changed it again.
Then turned the television off.
Silence.
Daniel leaned back.
“This is ridiculous. ”
There was nobody there to disagree.
He stood and walked onto the balcony.
A couple was walking along the sidewalk below.
A dog trotted beside them on a leash.
Daniel watched as the dog stopped abruptly to investigate something beside a tree.
The man tugged gently on the leash.
The dog refused to move.
Daniel smiled.
Eventually the dog won.
Of course it did.
Daniel watched them continue down the sidewalk.
The thought came almost casually.
Maybe I should get a dog.
Daniel dismissed it.
Then thought about it again.
A dog was responsibility.
Food.
Vet bills.
Walks.
Planning around another living creature.
He had just gotten his life simplified.
Why would he deliberately complicate it?
Daniel went back inside.
The apartment was silent.
He looked toward the balcony again.
“Maybe a little complication wouldn't hurt.”
. . .
Rachel waited until the children were occupied before answering the message.
She kept it simple.
Yes, it's really me. You're right. It has been a long time.
The reply came surprisingly quickly.
I wasn't sure you'd remember me.
Rachel laughed quietly.
Remember him?
That wasn't exactly the problem.
Of course I remember you.
Then came another message.
Do you remember sophomore year?
Rachel stared at the screen.
“Oh, no.”
She remembered sophomore year.
Far too well.
She remembered thinking he was the most interesting boy in school.
She remembered finding reasons to be wherever she thought he might be.
She remembered conversations she had replayed in her mind for days afterward.
She remembered telling a friend that someday she might marry him.
Rachel covered her face with one hand.
“Oh, Lord.”
From the living room Lily called:
“Mom?”
“I'm fine.”
“Why are you talking to God?”
Rachel looked toward the doorway.
“Because your mother just remembered being sixteen.”
Lily appeared.
“Was that bad?”
Rachel laughed.
“Sometimes.”
Lily accepted that answer and disappeared again.
Rachel looked back at the phone.
A strange warmth accompanied the memories.
Not love.
Not yet.
Just something familiar.
Something from a time before life became complicated.
They exchanged several more messages.
Old teachers.
Old friends.
Things that had happened at school.
Names Rachel hadn't thought about in years.
She laughed more than once.
For a little while she wasn't a divorced mother juggling two jobs.
She was simply Rachel remembering a younger version of herself.
Then he asked:
So how have you been? Really?
Rachel's smile faded slightly.
That question required more than memories.
She typed.
Life has been interesting.
She erased it.
Started again.
I've been through some things, but God has been good to me.
She sent it.
The reply took longer this time.
I'm sorry you've been through things. I'd like to hear about it sometime, if you want to talk.
Rachel stared at those words.
Kind.
Respectful.
No pressure.
She set the phone down.
Something stirred in her thoughts.
Not an answer.
A question.
Rachel pushed it aside.
Too soon.
Far too soon.
. . .
Daniel didn't go looking for a dog that Saturday.
He made it until Tuesday.
After work he found himself sitting in his truck outside a local animal shelter.
He still wasn't entirely sure why.
Daniel looked at the building.
“You're just looking.”
He opened the truck door.
“That's all.”
Twenty minutes later, Daniel had learned that animal shelters were dangerous places for a man who had told himself he was just looking.
There were dogs who barked.
Dogs who jumped.
Dogs who pressed themselves against the kennel doors.
Dogs who seemed determined to convince every passing human that they had been waiting specifically for them.
Daniel stopped near one kennel.
The dog inside didn't bark.
She was medium-sized with the unmistakable look of a Sheltie somewhere in her family tree.
Her coat was a mixture of colors.
Her eyes followed Daniel carefully.
Daniel crouched.
“Well, you're not making much of a sales pitch.”
The dog's ears moved.
Daniel smiled.
“Everybody else is yelling at me.”
She stood.
Slowly.
Then approached the kennel door.
Daniel held his hand near the opening.
She sniffed.
Then sat.
“That it?”
Her head tilted.
Daniel laughed.
“Okay. That's pretty good.”
A shelter worker approached.
“That's Sadie.”
Daniel looked up.
“Sadie?”
“She came in a little while ago. She's spayed, healthy, and pretty quiet until she gets comfortable.”
Daniel looked back at the dog.
“How old?”
“About four, best guess.”
Sadie continued watching him.
Daniel stood.
“I was only looking.”
The shelter worker smiled.
“Of course.”
“I'm serious.”
“They all are.”
Daniel looked at Sadie again.
He should leave.
Think about it.
Make a rational decision.
He had known this dog for approximately three minutes.
Then Sadie put one paw against the kennel door.
Daniel sighed.
“That seems unfair.”
. . .
Rachel's old friend continued messaging over the next several days.
Not constantly.
Rachel appreciated that.
There was no pressure.
No attempt to force himself into her life.
They simply talked.
He told her some of what had happened in his life.
Rachel shared pieces of hers.
Not everything.
Some things belonged to trust that hadn't been rebuilt yet.
But enough.
One evening Rachel sat at the kitchen table after Ethan and Lily had gone to bed.
Her phone buzzed.
She smiled before she even picked it up.
Then she noticed that she had smiled.
Rachel slowly set the phone back down.
“Okay.”
She looked toward her Bible.
“What's happening here?”
There was no answer.
Rachel picked up the phone again.
He had sent a photograph from their school years.
Rachel stared.
There they were.
Young.
Uncertain.
Completely unaware of what life would eventually bring.
She laughed.
Then the old feeling surfaced.
Small.
Distant.
But recognizable.
Rachel remembered liking him.
She remembered wondering what might have happened if things had gone differently.
And now, after all these years, here he was.
Rachel's thoughts went immediately to the promise.
Three times.
God had told her He was going to give her a new husband.
Rachel looked at the photograph again.
“No..”
She stood and walked away from the phone.
“I'm not doing this.”
She made herself a cup of tea.
Then came back.
Looked again.
“Lord?”
Rachel sat down.
“This is ridiculous. I haven't even seen him in person.”
She waited.
Nothing.
Rachel smiled slightly.
“You could make this easier.”
Still nothing.
She thought about her list.
Integrity.
Faithfulness.
Kindness.
Patience.
Someone who would love her children.
Someone who would put God first.
She didn't know enough yet.
Not nearly enough.
But for the first time since making that list, Rachel wondered whether someone from her past might somehow be part of her future.
“Is this what You meant?”
No answer came.
Rachel knew better than to manufacture one.
So she did something she was becoming increasingly practiced at doing.
She waited.
. . .
Daniel brought Sadie home Wednesday evening.
Apparently, “just looking” had a very specific definition Daniel hadn't previously understood.
Sadie entered the apartment cautiously.
She sniffed the doorway.
The couch.
The kitchen.
The table.
Daniel followed behind carrying a bag of dog food, a leash, two bowls, a dog bed, several toys, and approximately three times as much stuff as he had intended to buy.
“You've been expensive for somebody I've known twenty-four hours.”
Sadie ignored him.
She continued investigating.
Daniel put the dog bed near the couch.
“There.”
Sadie sniffed it.
Then walked away.
“Good. Glad I bought that.”
She wandered into the bedroom.
“Hey. Boundaries.”
Sadie looked back at him.
Daniel pointed toward the living room.
“Your bed is out here.”
Sadie continued staring.
Daniel stared back.
After several seconds he lowered his hand.
“We're going to have to work on communication.”
That night Daniel sat on the couch watching television.
Sadie lay on the floor.
Not on the expensive dog bed.
Beside it.
Daniel looked down.
“You know that's supposed to be comfortable.”
Sadie lifted her head.
“Fine.”
Daniel turned his attention back to the television.
A few minutes later he felt something against his leg.
Sadie had moved closer.
She rested her head against his knee.
Daniel stopped.
His hand settled gently on her head.
“Well . . .”
Sadie closed her eyes.
Daniel smiled.
“Guess it's you and me.”
For the first time since moving into the apartment, the silence didn't feel quite as empty.
. . .
The following evening Daniel noticed the guitar case.
It had been leaning against the bedroom wall since he moved in.
He had unpacked almost everything else.
Not the guitar.
Daniel stared at it for a moment.
Then picked it up.
Sadie followed him into the living room.
“You don't have to supervise everything.”
She sat.
Daniel opened the case.
The guitar looked exactly as he remembered it.
He ran his hand across the strings.
Badly out of tune.
“Yeah. I know the feeling.”
Daniel sat down and began tuning.
Sadie lay nearby.
When he finally played the first chord, her ears lifted.
Daniel looked at her.
“Don't judge me.”
He played another.
Then another.
His fingers remembered more than he expected.
He hadn't played seriously in a long time.
He had never considered himself anything special.
He just enjoyed it.
Music had always done something words couldn't.
It filled spaces.
Changed moods.
Made quiet feel intentional instead of lonely.
Daniel played a familiar progression.
Then another.
Sadie lowered her head onto her paws.
Daniel smiled.
“Well, I guess you're my audience now.”
Sadie's eyes closed.
“Try to contain your excitement.”
Daniel kept playing.
He didn't know that someday he would hold a guitar for an entirely different reason.
He didn't know that music would eventually become part of how he expressed something he had not yet experienced.
Worship.
For now, it was simply Daniel.
A guitar.
A dog named Sadie.
And an apartment that didn't feel quite as empty as it had a week before.
. . .
Rachel's phone rang Friday evening.
Not a message.
A call.
She looked at the name.
For some reason, answering felt different.
Rachel hesitated.
Then smiled at herself.
“It's a phone call.”
She answered.
“Hello?”
The voice on the other end immediately transported her backward through years.
They talked.
At first about nothing important.
Then about life.
Family.
Mistakes.
Things they wished they'd done differently.
Things they were grateful for.
Rachel listened carefully.
She found herself comparing what she heard with the list in her notebook.
She didn't mean to.
It simply happened.
Kind.
Yes.
Respectful.
Yes.
Easy to talk to.
Definitely.
She laughed several times.
Then he said something that made her quiet.
“I used to wonder what happened to you.”
Rachel looked toward the dark kitchen window.
“You did?”
“Yeah. More than once.”
Something moved inside her.
An old memory.
An old possibility.
A question she hadn't allowed herself to ask.
They talked a while longer.
After the call ended, Rachel remained at the table.
Her phone rested in front of her.
Ethan walked into the kitchen.
“Who was that?”
Rachel looked up.
“I thought you were in bed.”
“I needed water.”
“You have water beside your bed.”
“I needed different water.”
Rachel stared at him.
“Different water?”
Ethan shrugged.
Rachel laughed.
“Okay.”
He filled a glass.
Then looked at the phone.
“Was that your old friend?”
“Yes.”
“The boy?”
Rachel smiled.
“He's not a boy anymore.”
Ethan drank some water.
“Do you like him?”
Rachel froze.
Children.
No warning.
No subtlety.
Straight for the target.
“He's a friend.”
Ethan nodded.
Apparently satisfied.
He headed toward the hallway.
“Good night, Mom.”
“Good night.”
Rachel waited until he disappeared.
Then looked at the phone again.
“He's a friend.”
She said it more quietly this time.
But now she wasn't sure whether she was answering Ethan . . .
or herself.
Rachel reached for her Bible.
Beside it was the notebook.
She opened to the page.
Someone who will put God first.
Her finger rested beneath the words.
Then Rachel looked upward.
“Lord . . .”
She hesitated.
For weeks she had been asking when.
For months she had wondered where.
God had already surprised her by telling her she wouldn't meet her husband in church.
And now someone from her past had unexpectedly stepped back into her life.
Someone familiar.
Someone kind.
Someone she had once imagined a future with.
Maybe the answer wasn't going to arrive as a stranger after all.
Maybe God had been bringing something old back for a new purpose.
Rachel didn't know.
And she wasn't going to pretend she did.
But for the first time, the question felt real.
“Is this him?”
The house remained quiet.
Rachel closed the notebook.
She wasn't going to run ahead of God.
At least . . .
she was going to try not to.
. . .
Across town, Daniel sat on his balcony.
Sadie lay beside his chair.
The guitar rested against the wall behind him.
Daniel looked down at her.
“Well, girl, I guess we're figuring this place out.”
Sadie's tail moved once against the floor.
Daniel smiled.
He still had questions.
He still had an emptiness he couldn't explain.
But tonight he wasn't quite as lonely.
Daniel reached down and scratched behind Sadie's ears.
“Not bad for somebody I wasn't going to adopt.”
Sadie looked up at him.
Daniel laughed.
“Yeah. I know. You adopted me.”
He leaned back and looked toward the lights of the town.
Somewhere among those lights was Rachel.
Sitting at a kitchen table.
Wondering whether God had just brought His promise back into her life.
Neither knew the other existed.
Daniel had found companionship.
Rachel had found a possibility.
Both looked like answers to something.
But an answer that looks right . . .
is not always the answer God is preparing.
And sometimes faith means refusing to write the ending before God has finished the story.
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
Psalm 37, verse 5.
“Commit your way to the Lord, Trust also in Him, And He shall bring it to pass.”
. . .
The Light to Carry
Rachel had prayed.
She had waited.
She had trusted.
Now something had appeared that seemed as though it might fit.
And that can be one of the hardest moments in walking with God.
Not when every door is closed.
But when a door opens . . .
and we don't yet know who opened it.
Not every opportunity is wrong.
Not every possibility is a distraction.
And not everything that fails to become God's final answer was necessarily a mistake.
Sometimes God uses the possibilities along the way to teach us what it means to listen.
Rachel didn't need to decide tonight.
She needed to keep trusting.
Daniel didn't know it yet, but he was learning something too.
Sadie could make his apartment less lonely.
Music could fill the silence.
Friends could make life enjoyable again.
All of those were good gifts.
But good gifts could not take the place of the Giver.
There was still a place inside Daniel that companionship couldn't reach.
And there was still a place in Rachel's future that she couldn't fill simply because someone seemed to fit.
Both were learning, in different ways, that life in Christ is not about forcing every piece into place.
It is about trusting the One who already sees the finished picture.
Sometimes the answer looks right.
Faith waits long enough to ask whether it is God's answer.
. . .
In Christ.
Journey 4 — When the Answer Looks Right.
End.
In Christ
Journey 5 — A Good Thing or God’s Thing?
Sometimes the hardest choice is not between good and bad. Sometimes it is between what looks good and what God is actually leading us toward.
Joey has stepped back into Rachel’s life, and nothing about him seems wrong.
He is kind.
He listens.
He remembers Ethan and Lily.
He respects Rachel’s life and what she has been through.
And for a while, Rachel begins to wonder whether the promise God gave her might finally be taking shape.
But something inside her remains unsettled.
She likes Joey.
She cares about him.
She even wishes she could feel more.
Yet friendship is not the same as love, and Rachel is learning that she cannot force God ’s answer simply because a good possibility has appeared.
Across town, Daniel is facing a different kind of emptiness.
Sadie has made his apartment less lonely.
His guitar has brought music back into his life.
Work is going well.
Still, the deeper question remains:
Why does God seem so far away?
Rachel is learning to surrender her choice.
Daniel is beginning to question what he has always believed.
And neither of them yet knows how close they are to the next turn in the story.
Scripture for the Journey:
Proverbs 3:5–6
The Light to Carry:
A good thing is not always God’s thing. Faith trusts Him enough to wait for what He is truly preparing.
Listen To Journey 5
In Christ
Journey 5 — A Good Thing or God's Thing?
Sunday afternoon was quiet.
Suspiciously quiet.
Rachel stood in the kitchen washing dishes and listened.
Nothing.
No arguing.
No running.
No one calling, “Mom!”
She turned off the water.
Silence.
Rachel dried her hands and walked toward the living room.
Ethan was stretched across the floor with a book.
Lily was sitting beside him, carefully arranging a collection of stuffed animals into what appeared to be a classroom.
Rachel leaned against the doorway.
“What are you two doing?”
Ethan looked up.
“Nothing.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes.
“That answer has never made a mother feel better.”
“We're not doing anything.”
Lily held up Bunny.
“I'm teaching.”
Rachel looked at the stuffed animals.
“What are you teaching them?”
“Math.”
Rachel nodded.
“How's Bunny doing?”
Lily frowned.
“Not good.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“He doesn't listen.”
Ethan spoke without looking up from his book.
“Maybe he needs different water.”
Rachel stared at him.
Ethan grinned.
“You're never going to let that go, are you?”
“No.”
Rachel shook her head and returned to the kitchen.
Her phone was lying on the counter.
She looked at it.
Nothing.
Rachel picked up a dish towel.
Put it down.
Looked at the phone again.
Still nothing.
“This is ridiculous.”
She wasn't waiting for Joey to call.
Absolutely not.
Her phone rang.
Rachel grabbed it before the second ring.
Then stared at what she had just done.
“Oh, that's embarrassing.”
She answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Rachel.”
Joey's voice had become familiar again remarkably quickly.
“Hi, Joey.”
“You busy?”
Rachel looked toward the living room.
“Bunny is failing math, but otherwise I think we're okay.”
There was a pause.
“I feel like I'm missing part of that story.”
“You probably are.”
Joey laughed.
They talked for nearly an hour.
About school.
Work.
Life.
Then Joey became quieter.
“Rachel, can I ask you something?”
“You just did.”
“Still the same.”
Rachel smiled.
“What?”
“Would you like to get coffee sometime?”
There it was.
Rachel had known the question might come.
Still, hearing it changed something.
Coffee.
Simple.
Public.
No expectations.
At least that's what she told herself.
“Coffee?”
“Yeah. Two old friends catching up without a phone between them.”
Rachel hesitated.
Not because she didn't want to go.
Because she did.
And that was precisely what made her hesitate.
“Rachel?”
“I'm here.”
“If you're uncomfortable, forget I asked.”
“No.. I'm not uncomfortable.”
“Okay.”
Rachel looked toward her Bible on the table.
“Coffee would be nice.”
“Really?”
She laughed.
“You sound surprised.”
“I was preparing myself for rejection.”
“That seems dramatic.”
“I like to be prepared.”
Rachel smiled.
“Coffee, Joey.”
“Coffee.”
They chose Thursday afternoon.
After the call ended, Rachel stood in the kitchen holding the phone.
Thursday.
She had just agreed to meet the boy she once thought she might marry.
Except neither of them was sixteen anymore.
And Rachel wasn't looking for a boyfriend.
She was waiting for a husband God had promised.
Those were not necessarily the same thing.
Rachel looked upward.
“You're going to help me with this, right?”
Silence.
Rachel sighed.
“I'll take that as a yes.”
. . .
Monday morning Daniel walked into work with dog hair on his shirt.
He didn't notice.
Laura did.
She pointed.
“What happened to you?”
Daniel looked down.
“What?”
“You're covered in hair.”
Daniel brushed at his shirt.
“Oh.”
Laura stared at him.
“Oh?”
“I got a dog.”
“You got a dog?”
Daniel nodded.
“Sadie.”
Laura folded her arms.
“A week ago you were complaining that your apartment was too quiet.”
“I wasn't complaining.”
“You were definitely complaining.”
“I may have mentioned it.”
“And your solution was a dog?”
“Apparently.”
Laura picked a strand of hair from his sleeve.
“What kind?”
“Sheltie mix.”
“Big?”
“Medium.”
“Destructive?”
“Not yet.”
“Housebroken?”
Daniel paused.
“Mostly.”
Laura laughed.
“That's not the confidence I was looking for.”
Daniel sat down at his desk.
“She needed a home.”
Laura's expression changed slightly.
There was something in the way Daniel said it.
“So you rescued her?”
Daniel thought about Sadie taking over the couch, ignoring the expensive dog bed, following him from room to room, and greeting him at the door as though he'd been gone for three years instead of eight hours.
“I'm not entirely sure which one of us got rescued.”
Laura smiled.
“Well, look at you.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don't like that look.”
“What look?”
“That one.”
Laura walked away smiling.
Daniel watched her go.
“People around here are strange.”
. . .
That evening Sadie met him at the apartment door.
Her entire body seemed involved in the greeting.
“Okay. Okay.”
Daniel knelt and scratched her neck.
“I was gone eight hours, not eight months.”
Sadie didn't care.
Daniel smiled.
It was nice.
Being expected.
Being missed.
Having another living creature excited simply because he had come home.
He took Sadie outside.
They walked farther than usual.
The evening was cool, and Daniel was beginning to recognize people in the neighborhood.
A woman walking a small dog waved.
Daniel waved back.
An older man watering his lawn nodded.
Daniel nodded.
Maybe this was how a place slowly became home.
Not all at once.
One familiar face at a time.
One routine.
One dog walk.
One ordinary evening after another.
Back inside, Daniel fed Sadie and made himself dinner.
Then he noticed the guitar.
Sadie noticed him noticing it.
Daniel pointed toward her.
“Don't start.”
Sadie's head tilted.
“You fell asleep last time.”
She sat.
Daniel picked up the guitar.
“Fine.”
He sat on the couch and began playing.
Nothing particular.
Just chords.
Progressions.
Pieces of songs he remembered.
His fingers wandered almost without thought.
Then they found something familiar.
Daniel stopped.
He played it again.
A progression he hadn't played in years.
For a moment he couldn't remember where it came from.
Then he did.
Church.
Not recently.
Childhood.
Daniel played a little more.
Memories followed.
Wooden pews.
Sunday clothes.
A sanctuary where everyone seemed to know exactly what happened next.
Stand.
Sit.
Sing.
Listen.
Pray.
Go home.
Daniel could almost hear the music.
He remembered holding a hymnal before he was tall enough to see comfortably over the pew in front of him.
He remembered knowing words without understanding them.
Knowing when to stand without knowing why.
Knowing that Jesus mattered because everyone told him Jesus mattered.
Sadie rested her head on his leg.
Daniel stopped playing.
“Funny.”
Sadie looked up.
“I haven't thought about that in years.”
Daniel stared at the guitar.
He had gone to church.
A lot.
He had learned about God.
He had learned Bible stories.
He knew who Jesus was.
At least he knew the answers people expected when someone asked.
But the question from the balcony returned.
Why did God seem so far away?
Daniel looked toward the window.
“What am I missing?”
Sadie had no answer.
This time Daniel wasn't joking.
. . .
Thursday arrived far too quickly for Rachel.
She stood in front of her bedroom mirror.
Changed her blouse.
Changed it back.
Then changed it again.
Lily sat on the bed watching.
“I like the blue one.”
Rachel looked at her reflection.
“You said you liked this one.”
“I changed my mind.”
“You're very helpful.”
“I know.”
Rachel looked at herself again.
Why was she nervous?
Coffee.
It was coffee.
With Joey.
That explanation wasn't helping.
Lily swung her feet over the edge of the bed.
“Is Joey your boyfriend?”
Rachel turned.
“No.”
“Does he want to be?”
Rachel stared at her daughter.
“Why are six-year-olds allowed to ask questions?”
Lily shrugged.
“Is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Do you want him to be?”
Rachel opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
“That is an excellent question.”
Lily smiled proudly.
“Thank you.”
Rachel laughed.
“Go find your brother.”
Lily hopped down.
“Wear the blue one.”
Then she disappeared.
Rachel looked at the blue blouse lying on the bed.
“Everybody has an opinion.”
. . .
Rachel arrived first.
She chose a table near the window.
Then immediately wondered whether she should have chosen somewhere else.
Too late.
She saw Joey before he saw her.
He had changed.
Of course he had.
Years had passed.
But there was enough of the boy Rachel remembered in the man walking toward the door that something inside her smiled.
Then Joey saw her.
His face lit up.
Rachel stood.
For half a second, neither seemed sure what the proper greeting was after so many years.
Joey laughed.
“This is strange.”
Rachel laughed too.
“A little.”
“Can I hug you?”
Rachel nodded.
“Of course.”
It was brief.
Warm.
Familiar in a way that surprised her.
They sat.
For the first several minutes they talked too quickly.
Then they laughed about talking too quickly.
Eventually the years between them seemed to shrink.
Joey told stories Rachel had forgotten.
Rachel corrected stories Joey remembered incorrectly.
“You absolutely did that.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“Rachel, I was there.”
“So was I.”
“And I'm telling you what happened.”
“And you're wrong.”
Joey laughed.
“I forgot this about you.”
“What?”
“You always had to be right.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow.
“I don't have to be right.”
Joey waited.
Rachel smiled.
“I just usually am.”
“There she is.”
They both laughed.
It was easy.
That was the word Rachel kept returning to.
Easy.
No awkward silence.
No effort to impress.
No pretending to be someone they weren't.
Just two people with a shared past discovering who the other had become.
Joey asked about Ethan and Lily.
Not casually.
He remembered their names from previous conversations.
“How's Ethan doing?”
Rachel noticed.
“He's good.”
“And Lily?”
“Also good. Currently offering fashion advice.”
Joey smiled.
“How old are they again?”
“Eight and six.”
“That's a busy age.”
“That's one word for it.”
Rachel told him about Bunny failing math.
Joey laughed so hard he nearly spilled his coffee.
Then he became serious.
“You're doing all of that by yourself?”
Rachel looked down at her cup.
“Mostly.”
“That can't be easy.”
“It isn't.”
Joey didn't tell her how strong she was.
Didn't tell her everything happened for a reason.
Didn't try to fix it.
He simply said:
“I'm sorry it's been hard.”
Rachel looked at him.
“Thank you.”
And she meant it.
. . .
Coffee became lunch.
Neither had planned that.
They were still talking when Joey glanced at the time.
“Have we really been here that long?”
Rachel checked.
Apparently they had.
“I guess so.”
Joey smiled.
“I've enjoyed this.”
“So have I.”
The answer came easily.
Because it was true.
Outside, they stood beside Rachel's truck.
Joey put his hands in his pockets.
“Can we do this again?”
Rachel's heart did something she couldn't quite identify.
Not excitement.
Not fear.
Something.
“I'd like that.”
Joey smiled.
“Good.”
Rachel drove home thinking about the afternoon.
Kind.
Respectful.
Easy to talk to.
Interested in the children.
Patient.
So many things on the list.
She should have been excited.
Part of her was.
But another part remained strangely quiet.
Rachel couldn't explain it.
. . .
That evening she sat at the kitchen table with her Bible and notebook.
The list was open.
She read it again.
Integrity.
Faithfulness.
Kindness.
Patience.
Someone who would love her children.
Someone who would put God first.
Rachel tapped the pen against the page.
Joey had qualities she respected.
There were still things she didn't know.
Especially the most important thing.
Where was God in Joey's life?
They had talked about faith.
A little.
Joey believed in God.
He had attended church at different times in his life.
But Rachel knew from experience that believing in God and building a life around Him were not the same thing.
She closed the notebook.
“I'm getting ahead of myself.”
She knew it.
One coffee.
One lunch.
A few phone calls.
And she was already evaluating whether this man could be her husband.
Rachel covered her face.
“I'm doing it again.”
Giving God the elbow.
What about this one?
Is this him?
How about now?
She laughed at herself.
“Sorry.”
But beneath the humor was a genuine desire.
Rachel wanted to get this right.
She didn't want another relationship built on hope alone.
She didn't want loneliness making decisions for her.
And she didn't want nostalgia pretending to be God's voice.
“Father, if this is You, I don't want to miss it.”
She paused.
“And if it isn't . . . I don't want to force it.”
That prayer frightened her a little.
Because it meant she had to be willing to accept either answer.
. . .
The next day Laura found Daniel eating lunch at his desk.
“You know there's a world outside this building.”
Daniel looked up.
“I went outside yesterday.”
“To walk the dog?”
“Yes.”
“That doesn't count.”
“Sadie thinks it counts.”
“Sadie is a dog.”
“You haven't met her. Don't judge.”
Laura sat on the edge of the neighboring desk.
“So besides work and talking to your dog, what do you actually do?”
Daniel thought.
“I play guitar.”
Laura looked surprised.
“You do?”
“A little.”
“What kind of music?”
“Whatever I feel like.”
“That's specific.”
“I try.”
“How long have you played?”
“Off and on since I was younger.”
“Any good?”
Daniel shrugged.
“Sadie hasn't complained.”
“Again. Dog.”
“Very supportive dog.”
Laura laughed.
“You should play somewhere.”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“You didn't even think about it.”
“Didn't need to.”
“Why?”
“Because I play for myself.”
Laura studied him.
“Maybe that's the problem.”
Daniel looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
She stood.
“I don't know. It sounded wise.”
Daniel watched her walk away.
“Everybody here thinks they're a philosopher.”
But her words stayed with him longer than he expected.
I play for myself.
Daniel looked down at his lunch.
For himself.
Work for himself.
Apartment for himself.
Plans for himself.
Life for himself.
Was that wrong?
He didn't know.
But suddenly it sounded lonely.
. . .
Rachel and Joey met again the following week.
This time for dinner.
Again, it was good.
Maybe too good.
Joey was attentive.
Funny.
He remembered things Rachel had said.
He asked about her work.
He asked how Ethan's school project had gone.
He asked whether Lily had improved Bunny's math grade.
Rachel laughed.
“You actually remembered that?”
“Of course.”
Rachel smiled.
She wanted that to mean something.
Maybe it did.
After dinner they walked for a while.
Joey talked about the past.
Then the future.
Nothing specific.
Just hopes.
Things he still wanted from life.
A home that felt like home.
Someone to share it with.
Family.
Rachel listened.
Every word seemed to point toward the possibility she had been considering.
Then Joey looked at her.
“Can I tell you something?”
Rachel nodded.
“Sure.”
“I'm really glad I found you.”
Rachel's heart tightened.
Joey continued.
“I don't know where this is going. I'm not trying to put pressure on you.”
“I know.”
“But I'd like to find out.”
There it was.
Rachel looked at him.
This was the moment she had imagined.
The moment that should have awakened something.
She searched his face.
A good man.
A familiar man.
Someone she cared about.
Someone who cared about her.
Rachel smiled.
“I'd like to keep spending time together.”
Joey's expression relaxed.
“Good.”
And Rachel meant that too.
She did want to spend time with him.
So why, driving home later, did she feel like something was missing?
. . .
That night Rachel couldn't sleep.
She turned over.
Then again.
Finally she got up.
The house was quiet.
She walked into the kitchen and sat at the table.
No Bible this time.
No notebook.
Just Rachel.
And God.
She rested her arms on the table.
“I don't understand.”
She waited.
“Joey is good to me.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“He listens.”
Rachel looked toward the hallway where Ethan and Lily slept.
“He asks about the kids.”
She swallowed.
“He's kind.”
Nothing she was saying was false.
That was what made it difficult.
Rachel looked down.
“I like him.”
There.
She had said it.
“I really do.”
She waited.
Then came the words she had been avoiding.
“But I don't love him.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Maybe it was too soon.
Of course it was too soon.
Nobody expected love after a couple of meetings.
That wasn't what troubled her.
It was deeper.
Rachel remembered what she had felt as a girl.
The excitement.
The infatuation.
The imagined future.
She had wondered whether seeing Joey again would awaken all of that.
Some of it had returned.
The memories.
The warmth.
The affection.
But not love.
Friendship.
Rachel cared about him as a friend.
She wanted that to be enough to build something more.
But wanting it didn't make it true.
“What's wrong with me?”
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Rachel immediately shook her head.
“No.. That's not right.”
She knew better.
There wasn't necessarily anything wrong with Joey.
And there wasn't necessarily anything wrong with her.
Maybe the problem was that she had already decided what an answer should look like.
Rachel sat quietly.
Then she finally understood what she had been doing.
“I wanted him to be the answer because he was here.”
Her eyes filled.
That was it.
God had promised.
Rachel had waited.
Then Joey appeared.
Familiar.
Safe.
Good.
Available.
And Rachel had started trying to make the pieces fit.
She looked upward.
“But I asked You to choose.”
The room remained quiet.
Rachel wiped her eyes.
“I meant it when I asked You.”
That was harder to say.
Because asking God to choose meant Rachel had to be willing to release her own choice.
Even a good one.
Even someone she cared about.
Even something that looked right.
Rachel didn't know yet what she was going to say to Joey.
She didn't even know if she was ready to say anything.
But for the first time since his message appeared on her phone, Rachel stopped asking:
Is this him?
Instead she prayed:
“Father . . . help me want what You want.”
. . .
Across town, Daniel sat on the couch with his guitar.
Sadie slept beside him.
He played that old progression again.
The one from church.
This time he remembered more.
Not merely the room.
Not merely the people.
A question.
Something he had heard countless times.
Do you know Jesus?
Daniel had always assumed the answer was yes.
Of course he knew Jesus.
He knew who Jesus was.
He knew Christmas.
Easter.
The cross.
The resurrection.
He knew the stories.
Daniel's fingers stopped moving.
He looked down at the guitar.
But was knowing the story the same as knowing Him?
Daniel didn't know why that question bothered him.
He wished it didn't.
Sadie opened one eye.
Daniel looked at her.
“Don't look at me.”
Her eye closed again.
Daniel smiled.
Then became serious.
For the first time, Daniel wondered whether the emptiness he'd been trying to fill wasn't loneliness at all.
Maybe loneliness had simply made it easier to notice.
. . .
Rachel lay in bed later that night.
She still liked Joey.
That hadn't changed.
She still cared about him.
That hadn't changed either.
What had changed was Rachel's willingness to call those feelings something they weren't.
Joey deserved honesty.
So did she.
And more than anything, Rachel wanted God's will more than she wanted an easy answer.
She didn't know what that would cost yet.
She didn't know that within a short time she would have to make a decision that would hurt someone she cared about.
And she certainly didn't know what was waiting only a little farther down the road.
For now, Rachel knew only this:
Something could be good . . .
and still not be God's thing for her.
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
Proverbs, chapter three, verses five and six.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and don't depend only upon your own understanding.
Acknowledge Him in every part of your life, and He will direct your path.
. . .
The Light to Carry
Rachel had wanted clarity.
Instead, God was teaching her trust.
There was nothing obviously wrong with Joey.
That was what made the decision difficult.
Sometimes we expect God's direction to be easy to recognize because one choice will clearly be bad and the other clearly good.
Life isn't always that simple.
Sometimes both roads can look good.
Sometimes the person is kind.
The opportunity makes sense.
The circumstances seem to line up.
And still, somewhere inside, we know we are trying to make something fit.
Rachel was learning that God's will doesn't need her help becoming God's will.
She didn't have to manufacture love.
She didn't have to turn nostalgia into confirmation.
She didn't have to choose something simply because she was tired of waiting.
She could trust her Father.
Daniel was learning something different.
He had begun filling the empty spaces of his new life.
A job.
Friends.
Sadie.
Music.
Good things.
But the question remained.
Why did God seem so far away?
Perhaps the answer wasn't that God had moved away from Daniel.
Perhaps Daniel had never truly learned what it meant to draw near.
He knew about Jesus.
Soon he would have to decide whether knowing about Him was enough.
Rachel was learning to surrender her choice.
Daniel was beginning to question what he had always believed.
Neither knew where those questions would lead.
But God did.
And when we are in Christ, we don't have to know the entire road.
We only need to trust the One directing our steps.
Sometimes faith means walking through a door.
Sometimes faith means waiting beside it.
And sometimes faith means admitting:
This is a good thing . . .
but I still want God's thing.
. . .
In Christ.
Journey 5 — A Good Thing or God's Thing?
End.
In Christ
Journey 6 — When One Door Closes
Sometimes obedience closes a door before God shows us what He is opening.
Rachel has made the difficult choice to let Joey go—not because he is a bad man, and not because someone else is waiting in the wings, but because she wants God's choice more than her own.
For two days, nothing happens.
Life simply goes on.
Then, during an ordinary shift at the convenience store, an ordinary truck pulls in for gas.
Daniel isn't looking for Rachel.
Rachel isn't looking for Daniel.
But as Daniel reaches for the store door, he experiences an unexpected and unmistakable inward impression:
She's going to be your next wife.
He hasn't even met her yet.
Rachel, meanwhile, has no idea what just happened. To her, Daniel is simply an interesting stranger who buys a bottle of water and asks a surprisingly personal question.
One door has closed.
Another has opened.
And two lives that have traveled separate roads are finally beginning to cross.
Scripture for the Journey:
Proverbs 16:9
The Light to Carry:
Faith doesn't obey because it already knows what comes next. Faith obeys because it trusts the One who directs our steps.
Listen To Journey 6
In Christ
Journey 6 — When One Door Closes
Rachel knew what she needed to do.
Knowing didn't make it easier.
For two days she had carried the conversation around in her head.
She had started it half a dozen different ways.
Joey, I need to talk to you.
Too ominous.
Joey, I've been thinking about us.
There wasn't really an us.
Joey, you're a wonderful person.
Rachel groaned.
“That sounds terrible.”
She was standing in the kitchen making sandwiches while Lily watched from the table.
“What sounds terrible?”
Rachel looked over.
“Nothing.”
“You said it sounds terrible.”
“I was talking to myself.”
“Why?”
Rachel put a slice of bread on Ethan's sandwich.
“Because sometimes grown-ups need expert advice.”
Lily considered this.
“From themselves?”
“Apparently.”
“Does it work?”
“Not very well.”
Lily nodded as though Rachel had confirmed something she'd suspected for years.
Rachel smiled.
Her phone lay on the counter.
Joey's name was on the screen.
He had messaged earlier.
Lunch tomorrow?
Rachel hadn't answered yet.
She knew she couldn't keep pretending she didn't know what needed to happen.
Joey deserved better than that.
She picked up the phone.
Tomorrow works.
She hesitated.
Then added:
Could we meet somewhere quiet? I need to talk to you about something.
Rachel stared at the message.
“That's not ominous at all.”
Lily looked up again.
“What does ominous mean?”
Rachel sighed.
“Ask Ethan.”
“Ethan!”
From somewhere down the hallway came:
“What?”
“What does ominous mean?”
“I don't know!”
Lily looked back at Rachel.
“He doesn't know.”
“Thank you for checking.”
Her phone buzzed.
Joey.
Of course. Is everything okay?
Rachel closed her eyes.
There was no good answer to that.
She typed:
Yes. I just think we need to talk.
She sent it before she could rewrite it.
Then she set the phone down.
“All right, Lord.”
Rachel looked upward.
“I've started it.”
. . .
Daniel had begun taking longer walks with Sadie.
He told himself it was good for her.
The truth was that it was good for him too.
Walking gave him time to think.
Unfortunately, lately Daniel had a lot to think about.
Sadie stopped beside a bush.
Daniel waited.
“Anytime.”
Sadie sniffed one side.
Then the other.
Daniel looked toward the sky.
“I'm getting older.”
Sadie continued her investigation.
“Apparently this is important.”
Finally she moved on.
Daniel followed.
The question from several nights earlier had refused to leave him alone.
Do you know Jesus?
Of course he did.
At least that was the answer Daniel had given his entire life.
But lately another question had attached itself to the first.
What does that even mean?
Daniel had known people who talked about having a relationship with God.
He had always understood what they meant.
Or thought he did.
Now he wasn't so sure.
He knew things about his coworkers.
That didn't mean he knew them.
He knew things about famous people.
That certainly didn't mean he had a relationship with them.
Daniel frowned.
“That's uncomfortable.”
Sadie looked up at him.
“Not you.”
She continued walking.
Daniel smiled.
“Although you're getting pretty good at listening.”
He wasn't ready to do anything with the questions yet.
He wasn't even sure what there was to do.
For now, they simply followed him.
To work.
Home.
On walks.
Even into the quiet moments when he picked up his guitar.
Daniel had spent years not thinking very much about God.
Now, for some reason, God was becoming difficult not to think about.
. . .
Rachel arrived early.
She almost wished she hadn't.
Waiting gave her too much time to think.
She chose a table near the back.
Not the same place where she and Joey had first met for coffee.
That seemed important somehow.
Rachel ordered tea.
Then changed her mind and ordered coffee.
The waitress probably thought she was strange.
Rachel didn't care.
When Joey walked in, he spotted her immediately.
He smiled.
Rachel's heart sank.
Not because she disliked seeing him.
Because she didn't.
That was what made this so difficult.
Joey sat across from her.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
He looked at her for a moment.
“You okay?”
Rachel nodded.
Then shook her head.
Then laughed nervously.
“That was convincing.”
Joey smiled slightly.
“Not really.”
Rachel wrapped both hands around her cup.
“Joey, I need to be honest with you.”
His smile disappeared.
“That sounds serious.”
“It is.”
“Okay.”
Rachel had practiced this.
Every word disappeared.
She looked down.
“I don't know how to say this without hurting you.”
Joey was quiet.
Rachel looked at him.
“I care about you. I really do.”
He nodded slowly.
“But?”
There it was.
One little word.
Rachel swallowed.
“But I can't give you something I don't have.”
Joey leaned back slightly.
Neither spoke.
Rachel wanted to fill the silence.
She made herself wait.
Finally Joey asked:
“What don't you have?”
Rachel's eyes filled.
“The kind of love you deserve.”
Joey looked away.
That hurt more than if he'd gotten angry.
Rachel continued softly.
“When you contacted me, it brought back so many memories.”
Joey nodded.
“For me too.”
“I remembered how I felt about you when we were younger. And then we started talking, and it was so easy.”
“It still is.”
“I know.”
Rachel wiped beneath one eye.
“And I wanted that to mean something.”
Joey looked at her.
“Doesn't it?”
“Yes.”
Rachel answered quickly.
“Yes, it does. Just . . . not what I wanted it to mean.”
Joey stared at the table.
Rachel's voice became quieter.
“You're my friend.”
He gave a small, sad laugh.
“There's that word.”
“Joey.”
“No, it's okay.”
“It doesn't sound okay.”
“It isn't.”
His honesty surprised her.
Joey took a breath.
“But I'd rather you tell me now.”
Rachel nodded.
“I didn't want to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“There's nothing wrong with you.”
Joey looked at her and smiled faintly.
“You realize that's almost never helpful.”
Rachel laughed through her tears.
“I know. It sounded bad as soon as I said it.”
“At least you're consistent.”
They both smiled.
For a moment the tension eased.
Then Joey asked the question Rachel had wondered if he would ask.
“Is there somebody else?”
Rachel looked directly at him.
“No..”
Joey studied her face.
“No one?”
“No one.”
“Then why now?”
Rachel looked down at her hands.
How could she explain this without making it sound like Joey had been some sort of spiritual experiment?
“I've been praying about my future.”
Joey listened.
“I told you God is important to me.”
“Yeah.”
“More than important.”
Rachel searched for the words.
“I've made enough decisions in my life because something felt right at the time. I don't want to do that anymore.”
Joey remained quiet.
“I want God to choose.”
“You think God is telling you I'm not the one?”
Rachel hesitated.
“I think I've been trying very hard to make you the one.”
That answer seemed to reach him.
Joey looked down.
Rachel continued.
“Because you're here. Because you're good to me. Because I cared about you years ago. Because everything seemed like it should fit.”
“But it doesn't.”
Rachel's eyes filled again.
“No.”
Joey nodded.
He looked toward the window for a long time.
Then back at Rachel.
“You know what's really annoying?”
“What?”
“I can't even be mad at you.”
Rachel laughed softly.
“I'm sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“Sorry.”
Joey stared at her.
Rachel covered her mouth.
“Okay. That one was bad.”
Joey laughed.
A real laugh this time.
And Rachel knew they were going to be okay.
Not today.
Maybe not for a while.
But eventually.
Joey stood when it was time to leave.
Rachel stood too.
For a moment they faced each other.
Then Joey opened his arms.
Rachel hugged him.
Not as the man she might marry.
As the boy she had once known.
The man he had become.
And the friend she genuinely cared about.
Joey stepped back.
“I hope you find him.”
Rachel's throat tightened.
“Who?”
“The guy you're waiting for.”
Rachel smiled through tears.
“So do I.”
Joey shook his head.
“He better be worth all this.”
Rachel laughed.
“I'll let God know you said that.”
“Please do.”
Joey walked away.
Rachel watched him leave.
Then sat back down.
The empty chair across from her felt strangely final.
She had done it.
The possibility she'd tried so hard to make into an answer was gone.
Rachel looked upward.
“I hope I heard You right.”
There was no immediate answer.
Just quiet.
Rachel picked up her coffee.
It had gone cold.
“Figures.”
. . .
That evening Rachel tucked Lily into bed.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you sad?”
Rachel stopped.
Children noticed more than adults liked to believe.
“A little.”
“Why?”
Rachel sat beside her.
“Sometimes you can care about somebody and still have to let something go.”
Lily frowned.
“Joey?”
Rachel stared.
“How do you know everything?”
Lily shrugged.
“I'm six.”
Apparently that explained it.
Rachel smiled.
“Yes. Joey.”
“Is he sad?”
“Probably.”
Lily thought about that.
“That's not good.”
“No.”
“Then why did you do it?”
There was no simple six-year-old answer.
Rachel brushed Lily's hair away from her face.
“Because sometimes doing the right thing can still hurt.”
Lily considered that.
“Do you still like him?”
“Yes.”
“Then grown-ups are confusing.”
Rachel laughed.
“You have no idea.”
Lily hugged her.
Rachel held her tightly.
“Good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, Mom.”
Rachel turned off the light.
As she stepped into the hallway, Ethan was standing in his doorway.
“You okay?”
Rachel smiled.
“I'm okay.”
He nodded.
Then disappeared back into his room.
Rachel stood there for a moment.
Her children.
Her home.
Her life.
God had been faithful.
Even when things hadn't happened the way Rachel expected.
She walked into the living room and sat on the couch.
“All right, Father.”
She rested her head against the back cushion.
“I let go.”
Silence.
Rachel smiled slightly.
“Now what?”
Nothing.
She laughed.
“Of course.”
. . .
The next two days were remarkably ordinary.
Rachel had expected something.
She wasn't sure what.
Peace, perhaps.
A great revelation.
A clear word from God confirming that she had done exactly the right thing.
Instead, Ethan needed poster board for a school project.
Lily couldn't find her favorite shoe.
Not both shoes.
One shoe.
They searched the bedroom.
Under the couch.
In the closet.
Rachel finally found it beneath the kitchen table.
She held it up.
“Why?”
Lily looked at the shoe.
“I don't know.”
“How does a shoe get under the kitchen table?”
“I took it off.”
“Why?”
“My foot was hot.”
Rachel stared.
“Only one foot?”
Lily nodded.
Rachel decided not to continue.
At work, Carol noticed Rachel was quieter than usual.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Carol waited.
Rachel smiled.
“I really am.”
“Joey?”
Rachel nodded.
“I told him.”
Carol's expression softened.
“How'd he take it?”
“Better than I did.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
Carol laughed.
Rachel sighed.
“It was hard.”
“Right doesn't always mean easy.”
Rachel looked at her.
“Apparently everybody knows that except me.”
“Oh, we all forget.”
Carol returned to what she was doing.
Rachel thought about that for the rest of the shift.
Right doesn't always mean easy.
But it could still be right.
. . .
Across town, Daniel's week was equally ordinary.
Work.
Home.
Sadie.
Dinner.
Walk.
Guitar.
Repeat.
Laura had noticed his recent distraction.
“You're thinking again.”
Daniel looked up from his desk.
“I think regularly.”
“Not like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like you're trying to solve something.”
Daniel considered denying it.
Instead he shrugged.
“Maybe.”
“Work?”
“No.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“Woman?”
Daniel laughed.
“Definitely no.”
Laura leaned against the desk.
“Then what?”
Daniel hesitated.
“God.”
Laura blinked.
“That wasn't where I thought this conversation was going.”
“Me either.”
She waited.
Daniel didn't elaborate.
Finally Laura said:
“Well, good luck with that.”
Daniel smiled.
“Thanks.”
“Let me know when you figure Him out.”
Daniel looked at her.
For some reason the words struck him differently.
“Yeah.”
Laura walked away.
Daniel looked toward the window.
Figure God out.
Maybe that was part of his problem.
He had spent years putting God into categories.
Things he believed.
Things he didn't think about.
Things people said at church.
Rules.
Stories.
Traditions.
Maybe God wasn't something to figure out.
Daniel shook his head.
“Now I'm talking like Laura.”
. . .
Two days after Rachel said goodbye to Joey, she started another shift at the convenience store.
Nothing about the morning felt significant.
The coffee machine needed cleaning.
A delivery arrived late.
Someone had put a box in the wrong place.
A customer complained about the price of something Rachel had absolutely no control over.
Normal.
Completely normal.
Rachel stood behind the register looking at the clock.
Still hours to go.
Outside, cars came and went.
People bought gas.
Coffee.
Snacks.
Then continued wherever they were going.
Rachel didn't know that one of those vehicles was about to matter.
She didn't know that two days after closing one door, another door was literally about to open.
She was simply working.
. . .
Daniel had been on the road longer than he expected.
He glanced at the fuel gauge.
“Of course.”
The truck needed gas.
He saw a convenience store ahead and pulled in.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing planned.
Just gas.
Daniel parked near a pump and stepped out.
He started fueling the truck.
When it finished, he replaced the nozzle and looked toward the store.
He could use something to drink.
Daniel headed for the entrance.
He reached for the door.
And stopped.
It wasn't a voice.
Not exactly.
There was no sound.
No one standing beside him.
Nothing Daniel could explain afterward.
Just an impression.
Sudden.
Strong.
Completely out of place.
She's going to be your next wife.
Daniel's hand remained on the door.
“What?”
A man approaching behind him slowed.
Daniel realized he was blocking the entrance.
“Sorry.”
He opened the door.
The bell above it sounded.
Daniel stepped inside.
His eyes moved across the store.
A few customers.
Shelves.
Coolers.
The register.
And behind it stood a woman.
Rachel looked up.
“Good morning.”
Daniel forgot why he'd come inside.
For a second he simply stared.
Then realized he was staring.
“Morning.”
Rachel smiled politely and returned to what she was doing.
Daniel walked toward the coolers.
His mind was racing.
She's going to be your next wife.
“That is ridiculous.”
A customer nearby glanced at him.
Daniel pretended to be extremely interested in bottled water.
He opened the cooler.
Grabbed a bottle.
Closed it.
Then stood there.
What was he doing?
He didn't know this woman.
He didn't know her name.
He didn't know whether she was married.
He didn't know anything about her.
And more importantly, Daniel wasn't exactly accustomed to receiving messages from God.
He had spent the last several weeks wondering whether he even knew God.
Now suddenly this?
Daniel looked toward the register.
Rachel was helping a customer.
He watched her smile.
Friendly.
Natural.
Nothing dramatic.
Daniel looked at the bottle in his hand.
“Just buy the water.”
That seemed like a reasonable plan.
He got in line.
As the person ahead of him paid, Daniel considered leaving the water on a shelf and walking out.
Then it was his turn.
Rachel looked at him.
“Just the water?”
“Yeah.”
She scanned it.
Daniel looked at her name tag.
Rachel.
Of course she had a name.
Rachel.
“Are you from around here?”
Rachel looked up.
“Mostly. Why?”
“I just moved here.”
“Oh. Welcome.”
“Thanks.”
Rachel told him the total.
Daniel handed her the money.
This was the moment to take the water and leave.
Instead:
“Can I ask you something?”
Rachel looked at him.
“Sure.”
Daniel immediately regretted beginning a sentence without knowing how he was going to finish it.
He knew exactly what he wanted to ask.
He also knew how ridiculous it was going to sound.
“Are you married?”
Rachel blinked.
That was not the question she expected.
She looked at Daniel for a second.
Then smiled slightly.
“Kind of sorta.”
Daniel stared.
“Kind of sorta?”
Rachel laughed.
“I'm getting divorced.”
“Oh.”
Brilliant, Daniel.
“Oh.”
Rachel seemed amused.
“It's complicated.”
“I didn't mean to pry.”
“You asked if I was married.”
“I did.”
“And I answered.”
“Kind of.”
Rachel laughed again.
Daniel liked her laugh.
That thought arrived far too quickly.
He looked down at the water.
“I should probably introduce myself before I ask any more personal questions.”
“That might help.”
“Daniel.”
“Rachel.”
“I cheated. I read your name tag.”
Rachel looked down at it.
“So you did.”
Daniel smiled.
There was a brief silence.
Not uncomfortable.
Just uncertain.
Rachel broke it.
“You said you just moved here?”
“Yeah. New job.”
“How do you like it?”
“So far, pretty good.”
“That's good.”
Another customer entered.
Daniel knew he should leave.
He also knew he didn't want to.
“I guess I should let you work.”
Rachel smiled.
“Probably.”
Daniel took a step away.
Then stopped.
“Nice meeting you, Rachel.”
“You too, Daniel.”
He headed toward the door.
Rachel watched him for a moment.
Interesting.
Definitely interesting.
Then another customer approached, and Rachel went back to work.
. . .
Daniel stepped outside.
The door closed behind him.
He walked to the truck.
Opened it.
Sat down.
And didn't start the engine.
He looked toward the store.
“What just happened?”
There was no answer.
Daniel leaned back against the seat.
He had asked a complete stranger if she was married.
That alone was unlike him.
But that wasn't the part he couldn't explain.
It was what happened before he ever saw her.
Before he knew her name.
Before she smiled.
Before she told him anything.
Daniel looked toward the convenience-store door.
She's going to be your next wife.
He shook his head.
“No..”
But the impression remained.
Daniel started the truck.
He pulled away slowly.
Rachel disappeared from view behind him.
He didn't know when he would see her again.
He didn't know whether she would even remember him.
He didn't know what God was doing.
He wasn't entirely certain yet that he knew God at all.
But something had happened when he touched that door.
And Daniel knew he wouldn't forget it.
. . .
Inside the store, Rachel continued her shift.
She didn't hear a heavenly announcement.
She didn't suddenly know Daniel was the man God had promised.
She didn't even know if she'd ever see him again.
As far as Rachel knew, an interesting man named Daniel had stopped for gas, bought a bottle of water, asked whether she was married, and left.
That was all.
But two days earlier, Rachel had sat across from Joey and released something good because she wanted what God wanted more.
She had gone home and asked:
Now what?
God hadn't answered her that night.
At least not in a way she recognized.
Two days later, Daniel walked through the door.
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
Proverbs, chapter sixteen, verse nine.
“A man's heart plans his way, But the Lord directs his steps.”
. . .
The Light to Carry
Rachel didn't let Joey go because she knew Daniel was coming.
She didn't know.
That matters.
Faith isn't obedience because we already know what God will give us in return.
Faith obeys because we trust the One directing our steps.
Rachel released a good possibility without knowing what waited on the other side.
For two days, nothing happened.
Life simply continued.
Work.
Children.
Missing shoes.
Bills.
Ordinary moments.
Then, on an ordinary workday, an ordinary truck pulled into an ordinary gas station.
Daniel wasn't looking for Rachel.
He was looking for gasoline.
Rachel wasn't looking for Daniel.
She was doing her job.
Neither had planned the meeting.
But God already knew where both of them would be.
Daniel still had questions about God.
He still didn't understand what it meant to truly know Jesus.
And yet God was already moving in circumstances Daniel couldn't explain.
That is part of the wonder of grace.
God does not wait until we understand everything before He begins drawing us.
He was already working in Daniel's life.
Already stirring questions.
Already disturbing the comfortable answers Daniel had carried for years.
And now Daniel had encountered something else he couldn't explain.
Rachel.
One door had closed.
Another had opened.
Literally.
But Rachel still didn't know where it led.
Daniel thought somehow that he did.
Both would discover there was much more ahead than either could see.
Because when God directs our steps, we don't always recognize the destination from where we're standing.
Sometimes we only recognize the next step.
Rachel's next step had been letting go.
Daniel's next step had simply been stopping for gas.
Neither looked extraordinary.
But God can use the ordinary moments of our lives to accomplish things we cannot yet see.
And when we are in Christ, we can trust Him even when we don't know what waits beyond the next door.
. . .
In Christ.
Journey 6 — When One Door Closes.
End.
In Christ
Journey 7 — Getting to Know You
Sometimes God reveals His direction one ordinary step at a time.
Rachel and Daniel have finally met. Now comes the part neither of them can rush—getting to know one another.
A phone number leads to long conversations. Daniel's search for a home reveals his desire to put down roots—and give Sadie some much-needed room to run. Then an invitation to a company picnic gives Rachel an opportunity to see Daniel around Ethan and Lily for the first time.
What she sees matters.
Daniel doesn't treat her children as something standing between them. He includes them naturally, and four simple words reach Rachel more deeply than Daniel realizes:
“They're part of you.”
But something else is happening.
As Daniel listens to Rachel talk about God, he begins to recognize something missing from his own life. Rachel doesn't merely seem to know about God.
She knows Him.
And Daniel is beginning to wonder if that is what he has been searching for all along.
Scripture for the Journey:
Psalm 37:23
The Light to Carry:
God doesn't always show us the entire road ahead. Sometimes He simply asks us to take the next step—and trust Him with where it leads.
Listen To Journey 7
In Christ
Journey 7 — Getting to Know You
Daniel made it almost two days.
He considered that an accomplishment.
Sadie apparently did not.
She sat in the middle of the living room watching him pace from the kitchen to the window and back again.
Daniel stopped.
“What?”
Sadie tilted her head.
“I am not going back there.”
Her ears lifted.
“I don’t need anything.”
Sadie continued staring.
Daniel pointed toward the kitchen.
“I have water.”
He opened the refrigerator.
“Food.”
He opened a cabinet.
“Coffee.”
Sadie blinked.
Daniel closed the cabinet.
“And I have almost a full tank of gas.”
He sat down on the couch.
“So there is absolutely no reason for me to go back to that store.”
Sadie walked over and rested her chin on his knee.
Daniel looked at her.
“You’re not helping.”
He had thought about Rachel more times than he wanted to admit.
Not because he knew her.
He didn’t.
That was the problem.
He knew her name.
He knew she worked at a convenience store.
He knew she was getting divorced.
He knew she had a nice laugh.
And he knew something had happened inside him before he’d even walked through that door.
Something he still couldn’t explain.
She’s going to be your next wife.
Daniel hadn’t told anyone.
Not Laura.
Certainly not Rachel.
He wasn’t even sure he believed it himself.
How could he tell someone else?
Daniel scratched behind Sadie’s ears.
“Imagine that conversation.”
Sadie looked interested.
Daniel changed his voice slightly.
“Hello, Rachel. You barely know me, but something told me you’re going to be my wife.”
He shook his head.
“Yeah. That’s not terrifying at all.”
Sadie licked his hand.
“Exactly.”
Daniel picked up the television remote.
He turned on the television.
Five minutes later he turned it off.
He picked up his guitar.
Played for ten minutes.
Set it down.
Walked to the kitchen.
Opened the refrigerator again.
Nothing new had appeared.
Daniel closed it.
Sadie was watching.
“Fine.”
He grabbed his keys.
“But I am not buying water.”
. . .
Rachel was stocking cups when the bell above the door sounded.
She didn’t immediately look up.
“Be with you in just a second.”
“No hurry.”
She stopped.
That voice.
Rachel looked toward the entrance.
Daniel.
He smiled.
“Hi.”
Rachel smiled back.
“Well.”
Daniel glanced around.
“Well?”
“Back again.”
“Apparently.”
Rachel looked through the window toward the pumps.
“Need gas?”
Daniel followed her eyes.
“No.”
“Coffee?”
“Maybe.”
“Water?”
Daniel looked offended.
“I have water.”
Rachel laughed.
“Good to know.”
Daniel walked toward the counter.
“I was nearby.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow.
He wasn’t.
At least not particularly.
Daniel could tell she knew it.
“Okay.”
He surrendered.
“I wanted to see you again.”
Rachel hadn’t expected the honesty.
Her smile softened.
“That’s better.”
“Than lying?”
“Generally.”
“I’ll remember that.”
Another customer approached, and Rachel turned toward the register.
Daniel stepped aside.
He wandered toward the coffee station while she worked.
This time he actually bought coffee.
It gave him something to do with his hands.
When the store emptied again, he returned to the counter.
Rachel looked at the cup.
“So you did need something.”
“I like to support local businesses.”
“This is a convenience store.”
“I’m very community-minded.”
Rachel laughed.
Daniel liked that sound as much as he remembered.
He took a breath.
“Can I ask you another question?”
Rachel eyed him suspiciously.
“Your last question was pretty personal.”
“I know.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Probably not.”
“That’s reassuring.”
Daniel smiled.
“Could I call you sometime?”
There.
Much better than asking if she was married.
Rachel didn’t answer immediately.
Daniel noticed.
“You can say no.”
“I know.”
Rachel looked at him.
Two days.
It had been only two days since she’d said goodbye to Joey.
The timing almost seemed ridiculous.
She had asked God:
Now what?
Then Daniel had walked through the door.
But Rachel wasn’t going to do it again.
She wasn’t going to take circumstances and force them into an answer.
She barely knew this man.
Daniel waited.
Rachel finally smiled.
“Yes.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“Yes?”
“You can call me.”
Daniel reached for his phone.
Rachel laughed.
“You look surprised.”
“I wasn’t sure that was going well.”
“It almost didn’t.”
“Was it the water?”
“Definitely.”
Daniel handed her his phone.
Rachel entered her number.
Then handed it back.
Daniel looked at the screen.
“Rachel.”
“You already knew my name.”
“I cheated last time.”
“I remember.”
Daniel saved the number.
“Thank you.”
Rachel smiled.
“You’re welcome.”
A car pulled up outside.
Rachel glanced toward it.
Daniel understood.
“I’ll let you work.”
“Probably a good idea.”
He started toward the door.
“Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“I really was glad I stopped for gas the other day.”
Rachel smiled.
“So am I.”
Daniel walked outside.
Rachel watched him cross toward his truck.
Then she caught herself.
“Stop it.”
She returned to the register.
But she was smiling.
. . .
Daniel waited three hours.
He thought that showed remarkable restraint.
Then he called.
Rachel was making dinner.
Ethan and Lily were arguing over who had more cheese on their plate.
“They’re the same.”
“They’re not.”
“Ethan, you have exactly the same amount.”
“He has more.”
Lily pointed accusingly.
“I counted.”
Rachel stared at her daughter.
“You counted shredded cheese?”
“Yes.”
Her phone rang.
Rachel looked at the screen.
Daniel.
Ethan noticed.
“Who’s Daniel?”
Rachel looked at him.
“How did you read that from there?”
“I have eyes.”
Lily stopped worrying about cheese.
“Who’s Daniel?”
“Nobody.”
Ethan grinned.
“If he’s nobody, why is he calling?”
Rachel picked up the phone.
“You two eat.”
She walked toward the kitchen.
Behind her Lily whispered loudly:
“Who’s Daniel?”
Ethan whispered back:
“I don’t know.”
Rachel answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Is this a bad time?”
Rachel looked toward the table.
“No worse than usual.”
“I can call later.”
“No.. It’s okay. We’re having a cheese emergency.”
There was a pause.
“A what?”
“Apparently Ethan has more shredded cheese than Lily.”
“Does he?”
“I refuse to investigate.”
Daniel laughed.
“Smart.”
Rachel leaned against the counter.
“So, Daniel.”
“So, Rachel.”
“You called.”
“I said I would.”
“You did.”
“I thought maybe we could actually get to know each other without you having to ring up customers.”
“That would be different.”
Daniel smiled.
Rachel could hear it in his voice.
“So tell me something.”
“About what?”
“You.”
Rachel thought.
“That’s a pretty broad subject.”
“Okay. Family?”
Rachel glanced toward the dining table.
“I have two children.”
Daniel paused.
Rachel noticed.
“Okay.”
She waited.
Daniel continued.
“How old?”
Rachel relaxed slightly.
“Ethan is eight. Lily is six.”
“Boy and girl.”
“Very observant.”
“I’m good with details.”
“You asked their ages.”
“Still counts.”
Rachel laughed.
Daniel sat back on his couch.
Sadie climbed up beside him.
“So they’re the cheese emergency.”
“Yes.”
“Which one is winning?”
“Neither, if they value dessert.”
Daniel laughed.
Rachel smiled.
She liked talking to him.
That realization came easily.
She didn’t attach anything else to it.
Not this time.
. . .
Their first conversation lasted nearly an hour.
Their second lasted longer.
By the third, neither bothered pretending they were going to keep it short.
Daniel told Rachel about moving for the new job.
About the apartment.
About Laura and some of the people he worked with.
And eventually about Sadie.
“You got a dog after you moved?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind?”
“Sheltie mix.”
“What’s her name?”
“Sadie.”
“Was that her name already?”
“Yeah. I figured she’d been through enough without me giving her an identity crisis.”
Rachel laughed.
“That’s considerate.”
“She runs the apartment now.”
“I thought it was your apartment.”
“So did I.”
“Does she have a yard?”
Daniel sighed.
“No.. That’s becoming a problem.”
“Lots of walks?”
“Lots of walks.”
Rachel smiled.
“She probably loves that.”
“She loves stopping every four feet to investigate something.”
“That’s what dogs do.”
“I’ve learned.”
Daniel hesitated.
“Actually, I’ve started looking at houses.”
Rachel was surprised.
“You’re buying a house already?”
“Looking.”
“You just got here.”
“Exactly.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.”
“Explain.”
Daniel shifted the phone.
“If I’m going to stay here, I don’t want to spend the next couple years throwing money away on rent.”
Rachel caught one phrase.
“If you’re going to stay?”
Daniel paused.
“Yeah.”
“And are you?”
He looked around his apartment.
Sadie was asleep beside him.
“I think I might.”
Rachel smiled.
Daniel added:
“Besides, Sadie needs room to run.”
“Ah. Now we get to the real reason.”
“She’s very persuasive.”
“Apparently.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“House? Apartment?”
Rachel told him a little about where she and the children lived.
Nothing too personal.
Nothing that felt unsafe.
Just conversation.
Two people learning the shape of each other’s lives.
. . .
Several evenings later, Daniel sat with his guitar while talking to Rachel.
He absentmindedly played a chord.
Rachel stopped mid-sentence.
“Was that a guitar?”
Daniel looked down.
“Maybe.”
“You play?”
“A little.”
“How little?”
“Enough to annoy the neighbors.”
Rachel laughed.
“What kind of music?”
“Whatever I feel like.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the answer I gave Laura.”
“Who’s Laura?”
Daniel heard the slight change in Rachel’s voice.
He smiled.
“A woman I work with.”
“Oh.”
Daniel smiled wider.
Rachel heard the silence.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“You can’t see me.”
“I can hear it.”
Daniel laughed.
“Laura is a coworker. Friend. That’s it.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Rachel shook her head.
“You’re awfully confident for someone who bought water he didn’t need just to talk to me.”
“That was strategic water.”
Rachel laughed.
“Strategic water?”
“Worked, didn’t it?”
She couldn’t argue with that.
Daniel played another chord.
“My guitar mostly just gives me something to do.”
“How long have you played?”
“Off and on since I was young.”
“Church?”
“Some.”
That one word changed the conversation slightly.
Rachel didn’t push.
Daniel continued on his own.
“I grew up in church.”
“What kind?”
He told her.
Then tried to explain what it had been like.
“Pretty structured.”
Rachel listened.
“Everybody knew what came next. There was an order to everything.”
“Did you like it?”
Daniel thought.
“I never really questioned it.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.. I guess it isn’t.”
He played another chord.
“What about yours?”
“My church?”
“Yeah.”
Rachel smiled.
“Different.”
“Different how?”
“Nondenominational.”
Daniel waited.
“And?”
“And what?”
“What is it like?”
Rachel thought about answering.
She could explain the music.
The freedom.
People raising their hands.
People praying openly.
The expectation that God might actually interrupt everybody’s carefully made plans.
But somehow none of those things really explained it.
“It’s just different.”
Daniel laughed.
“That’s twice you’ve used that word.”
“It’s accurate.”
“Different from what?”
Rachel smiled.
“Probably different from what you’re used to.”
Daniel filed that away.
He didn’t ask more.
Not yet.
. . .
At work the following week, Daniel found an announcement in his email.
Company picnic.
Saturday.
Families welcome.
Food.
Games.
Children’s activities.
Daniel almost deleted it.
He usually avoided company events when attendance wasn’t required.
Then he stopped.
Families welcome.
He thought about Rachel.
Then Ethan and Lily.
Laura walked past his desk.
“You’re staring at that email like it’s a legal document.”
“Company picnic.”
“Oh.”
“You going?”
“Probably.”
Daniel looked at the screen again.
Laura stopped walking.
“Oh.”
Daniel looked up.
“What?”
“That was a different look.”
“What look?”
“You’re thinking about inviting someone.”
Daniel leaned back.
“I hate working with observant people.”
Laura smiled.
“Rachel?”
Daniel stared at her.
“I never told you her name.”
“No, but now I know it.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“That was impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“Go away.”
Laura laughed and continued down the hall.
Daniel reopened the email.
Families welcome.
He picked up his phone.
. . .
Rachel listened while Daniel explained.
“My company does this every year, apparently. Picnic, games, food, stuff for kids.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Would you like to come?”
Rachel was quiet.
Daniel added quickly:
“You and the kids.”
Rachel hadn’t expected that.
“All three of us?”
“Unless one of them has strong objections to free food.”
Rachel smiled.
“Lily rarely objects to food.”
“Then we’re halfway there.”
Rachel considered it.
A company picnic.
His coworkers would be there.
Families.
Children.
Public.
Safe.
And it would give her a chance to see Daniel somewhere besides a convenience store or hear him through a telephone.
More importantly, Ethan and Lily wouldn’t be excluded.
Daniel wasn’t asking her to find someone to watch them.
He was asking for them too.
“When is it?”
“Saturday. Around noon.”
Rachel looked at her calendar.
Nothing.
She could think of several reasons to say no.
Most of them were fear dressed up as wisdom.
She didn’t want to repeat old mistakes.
But caution didn’t mean refusing every opportunity either.
“Okay.”
Daniel paused.
“Okay?”
“We’d like to come.”
“Really?”
Rachel laughed.
“You seem surprised every time I say yes to you.”
“Your first answer to me was kind of sorta. It damaged my confidence.”
Rachel laughed.
“I’ll see what I can do about that.”
“Saturday?”
“Saturday.”
After they hung up, Rachel stared at the phone.
Then looked upward.
“I’m not calling this anything.”
She waited.
“It’s a picnic.”
Another pause.
“With a man.”
Rachel sighed.
“And his coworkers.”
She pointed upward as though presenting evidence.
“And lots of people.”
She lowered her hand.
“I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
Rachel laughed.
“All right. I’m going to a picnic.”
. . .
Saturday morning Lily changed clothes three times.
Rachel noticed the irony.
“Why can’t you wear the first outfit?”
“I don’t like it.”
“You liked it twenty minutes ago.”
“I changed my mind.”
Rachel stared at her.
“Where have I heard that before?”
Ethan appeared in the doorway.
“Are we going yet?”
“Almost.”
“Who’s going to be there?”
“People Daniel works with.”
“Do I know any of them?”
“No.”
“Then why am I going?”
“Because they have food.”
Ethan considered this.
“Okay.”
Rachel shook her head.
Apparently Daniel understood eight-year-old boys better than she thought.
. . .
Daniel saw them before they saw him.
Rachel was walking across the park with Ethan on one side and Lily slightly ahead.
Daniel smiled.
Then he caught himself smiling.
Sadie pulled on the leash.
“Easy.”
Lily saw the dog.
Everything else ceased to exist.
“Mom! Dog!”
Rachel laughed.
“I see her.”
Lily ran closer, then stopped several feet away.
At least she’d remembered what Rachel had taught her.
“Can I pet her?”
Daniel smiled.
“You’ll have to ask Sadie.”
Lily looked at the dog.
“Sadie, can I pet you?”
Sadie’s tail began wagging.
Daniel nodded.
“I think that’s a yes.”
Lily approached and began petting her.
“Oh, she’s soft!”
Ethan hung back.
Daniel looked at him.
“You must be Ethan.”
Ethan nodded.
“I’m Daniel.”
“I know.”
Daniel smiled.
“Good. That saves time.”
Ethan almost smiled.
Almost.
Rachel noticed.
Daniel didn’t force anything.
He didn’t reach for a handshake.
Didn’t try to make Ethan talk.
He simply turned back toward Sadie.
“She likes to run.”
Ethan looked at the dog.
“Does she catch Frisbees?”
“Sometimes.”
“Good?”
“No..”
Ethan smiled.
“Then why does she do it?”
“Confidence.”
That got a laugh.
A small one.
Rachel heard it.
And filed it away.
. . .
The picnic was louder than Rachel expected.
Children everywhere.
Music.
Tables.
Food.
People calling to one another.
Daniel introduced Rachel to several coworkers.
He never introduced her as his girlfriend.
Just:
“This is Rachel. And this is Ethan and Lily.”
Rachel appreciated that.
Then Laura appeared.
Daniel saw her coming.
“No.”
Rachel looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Laura stopped in front of them.
Her eyes moved from Daniel to Rachel.
Then she smiled.
“Rachel.”
Daniel pointed at her.
“Don’t.”
Laura looked innocent.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to say hello.”
“No, you weren’t.”
Rachel started laughing.
Laura held out her hand.
“I’m Laura. I work with this suspicious person.”
Rachel shook it.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too. I’ve heard—”
Daniel stared.
Laura changed course smoothly.
“Absolutely nothing about you.”
Rachel looked at Daniel.
Daniel sighed.
“I work with children.”
Laura glanced toward Ethan and Lily.
“They seem more mature.”
Ethan laughed.
Daniel looked betrayed.
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I just met you.”
Laura smiled.
“I like him.”
Rachel laughed again.
Daniel shook his head.
“This was a mistake.”
But he was smiling.
. . .
The afternoon unfolded without effort.
That was what Rachel noticed most.
Daniel didn’t hover around her.
He didn’t spend the entire picnic trying to impress her.
He talked with coworkers.
Helped carry tables.
Played a game with Ethan.
Lost.
Claimed the rules were unfair.
Ethan disagreed loudly.
They played again.
Daniel lost again.
“I’m starting to suspect cheating.”
Ethan grinned.
“You’re just bad at it.”
“Your mother didn’t tell me you were ruthless.”
Rachel called from nearby:
“He gets that from his father.”
The words slipped out naturally.
Then Rachel felt the old ache.
Just for a second.
Daniel didn’t make it awkward.
He simply looked at Ethan.
“Well, I’m demanding a rematch.”
Ethan laughed.
“Okay.”
Rachel watched them.
Not Daniel performing.
Daniel simply being Daniel.
Later Lily spilled lemonade down the front of herself.
Her eyes immediately filled.
“My shirt!”
Daniel grabbed napkins.
Rachel expected him to hand them to her.
Instead he crouched a few feet away from Lily.
“That’s bad.”
Lily nodded miserably.
Daniel studied the stain.
“Definitely lemonade.”
Rachel fought a smile.
Lily sniffed.
“Is it ruined?”
Daniel looked toward Rachel.
Rachel shook her head.
“It’ll wash.”
Daniel nodded seriously.
“Your mom says it’ll survive.”
Lily looked down.
“But it’s sticky.”
“That is a problem.”
Daniel handed her the napkins.
“Emergency supplies.”
Lily took them.
Within a minute the crisis was over.
Rachel watched Daniel walk away to throw something in the trash.
Something moved inside her.
Not certainty.
Not yet.
Just another quiet observation.
He’s good with them.
Rachel immediately caught herself.
“Easy.”
Carol wasn’t there to hear her.
Probably a good thing.
. . .
Late in the afternoon, Ethan and Lily were playing nearby with some of the other children.
Sadie lay exhausted beneath the picnic table.
Daniel sat beside Rachel.
For the first time all day, it was relatively quiet.
Rachel watched the children.
“Thank you.”
Daniel looked over.
“For what?”
“For inviting them.”
Daniel followed her eyes toward Ethan and Lily.
“Of course.”
Rachel waited.
Daniel seemed confused.
“What?”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Rachel looked at him.
Daniel shrugged.
“They’re part of you.”
That was all.
He didn’t know what those four words did inside Rachel.
He couldn’t have.
Daniel looked back toward the children.
Rachel looked at him.
For years she had carried a question about any man who might someday enter her life.
Would he accept her children?
Not tolerate them.
Not merely put up with them because he wanted her.
Love them.
She didn’t know Daniel well enough to answer that.
But she’d seen something today.
Something worth remembering.
Rachel smiled.
“Still. Thank you.”
Daniel nodded.
“You’re welcome.”
A moment passed.
Then Ethan yelled:
“Daniel!”
Daniel looked over.
“What?”
“Rematch!”
Daniel groaned.
Rachel laughed.
“You’d better go.”
“He cheats.”
“He’s eight.”
“Exactly. No conscience.”
Rachel pushed his shoulder lightly.
“Go.”
Daniel stood.
“If I lose again, I’m filing a complaint.”
“I’m sure management will investigate.”
Daniel headed toward Ethan.
Rachel watched him go.
Then looked toward the sky.
She didn’t ask the question.
Not this time.
She simply smiled.
. . .
On the drive home, Rachel made it almost five minutes before Lily began.
“I like Sadie.”
Rachel smiled.
“I know.”
“Can we get a dog?”
“No..”
“Why?”
“Because you liking Daniel’s dog does not mean we need one.”
“I like Daniel too.”
Rachel’s hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
Ethan looked out the window.
“You like everybody.”
“No I don’t.”
“Yes you do.”
“I don’t like that boy at school who eats glue.”
Rachel closed her eyes briefly.
“Please tell me he doesn’t actually eat glue.”
“He does.”
“Wonderful.”
Lily returned to the important subject.
“I like Daniel.”
Rachel glanced in the mirror.
“He was nice to you.”
“He’s funny.”
Ethan spoke from the other side.
“He’s okay.”
Rachel smiled.
She understood eight-year-old language well enough to know that was significant.
Lily leaned forward as far as her seat belt allowed.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Do you like Daniel?”
Rachel looked at her daughter in the mirror.
There it was.
She could avoid the question.
She didn’t.
“Yes.”
Lily smiled triumphantly.
“I knew it!”
Rachel laughed.
“I said I like him. That’s all.”
“Do you like him like Joey?”
Rachel’s smile faded slightly.
“No..”
That answer surprised even her.
Lily frowned.
“You don’t?”
Rachel thought about it.
“No. It’s different.”
Ethan groaned.
“Girls talk too much.”
Rachel laughed.
“Thank you, Ethan.”
He looked out the window again.
Rachel continued driving.
Different.
She hadn’t meant anything profound by it.
But the word stayed with her.
Daniel was different.
And whatever this was, Rachel didn’t want to rush ahead of God.
She had done enough of that.
This time she would watch.
Listen.
Pray.
And let God show her.
. . .
Daniel returned to his apartment with an exhausted dog.
Sadie walked inside, drank some water, circled twice, and collapsed onto the floor.
Daniel sat on the couch.
“Well?”
Sadie didn’t move.
“I thought it went pretty well.”
Nothing.
“Ethan only humiliated me three times.”
Sadie’s eyes remained closed.
“Lily likes you better than me.”
One ear moved.
Daniel smiled.
“And Rachel came.”
Sadie’s tail tapped the floor once.
Daniel pointed.
“See? That’s what you were waiting for.”
Sadie sighed.
Daniel leaned back.
He thought about the afternoon.
Rachel laughing with Laura.
Lily covered in lemonade.
Ethan demanding another rematch.
Rachel sitting beside him.
They’re part of you.
He hadn’t planned the words.
They were simply true.
Rachel had children.
Anyone who wanted Rachel in his life had to understand that.
Daniel stopped.
Anyone who wanted Rachel in his life.
He stared toward the wall.
“Okay.”
Sadie opened one eye.
“We’re not getting ahead of ourselves.”
The eye closed.
Daniel smiled.
“Good talk.”
His thoughts returned to the house search.
The apartment suddenly felt smaller.
Sadie needed a yard.
He wanted something of his own.
A place that felt permanent.
A home.
Daniel picked up his phone and opened the listings he’d saved.
Two bedrooms.
Small yard.
Needs work.
He swiped.
Another.
Three bedrooms.
Bigger yard.
Daniel stopped.
Why was he looking at three bedrooms?
He stared at the picture.
Then shook his head.
“Sadie needs an office.”
Her eyes remained closed.
“Don’t judge me.”
Daniel put the phone down.
He wasn’t buying a house for a family he didn’t have.
He wasn’t making plans around a woman he’d barely begun to know.
He was simply looking.
That was all.
At least that was what he told himself.
. . .
Later that evening, Rachel’s phone rang.
She smiled when she saw the name.
“Hello?”
“Did everyone survive?”
“Barely.”
“I’d like it noted that Ethan cheats.”
“He does not.”
“You weren’t watching closely enough.”
“I was watching.”
Daniel smiled.
“Oh.”
Rachel caught something in the way he said it.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Daniel.”
“I said nothing.”
Rachel laughed.
They talked about the picnic.
The kids.
Sadie.
Laura.
Eventually the conversation wandered.
It seemed to do that easily with them.
Daniel mentioned the guitar again.
Rachel asked about the house search.
Then somehow they returned to church.
Daniel didn’t know how.
Maybe because Rachel had mentioned Sunday.
“You really go every week?”
“Pretty much.”
“You like it that much?”
Rachel smiled.
“That’s an interesting way to ask.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
Daniel waited.
Rachel thought about it.
“I don’t go because I have to.”
That answer caught him.
“Okay.”
“I go because I want to.”
Daniel was quiet.
Rachel continued.
“I love worshiping God. I love being with people who love Him. Church isn’t something I check off my list for the week.”
Daniel stared toward his guitar.
“That sounds different.”
Rachel smiled.
“There it is again.”
“What?”
“Different.”
“You’re the one who started it.”
“I know.”
Daniel thought about his childhood church.
There had been good people there.
Sincere people.
People who loved God.
He wasn’t criticizing them.
But when Rachel talked about church, something sounded different from what he remembered.
Not merely the service.
Her.
The way she talked about God.
As though God wasn’t confined to Sunday morning.
Daniel finally said:
“I think that’s what I don’t understand.”
“What?”
“The way you talk about Him.”
“About God?”
“Yeah.”
Rachel waited.
Daniel struggled to explain.
“You talk like . . .”
He stopped.
Rachel smiled.
“Like what?”
“Like you know Him.”
Rachel’s expression changed.
She became quiet.
“I do.”
No sermon.
No explanation.
Just two words.
Daniel stared ahead.
I do.
Something about the certainty in Rachel’s voice unsettled him.
Not badly.
It awakened the same question he’d been carrying for weeks.
Do you know Jesus?
Daniel looked down.
Rachel sensed the change.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He wasn’t sure that was true.
“I was just thinking.”
Rachel didn’t press.
Daniel appreciated that.
After a moment he changed the subject.
But the question didn’t change with it.
. . .
That night, Daniel lay awake longer than usual.
Sadie was asleep.
The apartment was quiet.
He thought about houses.
Rachel.
Ethan.
Lily.
The picnic.
But eventually his thoughts returned to the conversation.
Like you know Him.
I do.
Daniel had spent most of his life assuming he could say the same thing.
Tonight he wasn’t sure.
He knew about God.
He knew church.
He knew Scripture stories.
He knew what Christians believed.
But Rachel seemed to have something beyond information.
Something personal.
Something alive.
Daniel stared into the darkness.
“God?”
The word felt awkward.
He almost stopped.
Instead:
“I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
Silence.
Daniel swallowed.
“But I think I’m looking.”
That was all.
No dramatic answer.
No voice.
No sudden revelation.
Just Daniel lying in the darkness.
And somewhere inside him, a door opening a little farther.
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
Psalm, chapter thirty-seven, verse twenty-three.
“The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, And He delights in his way.”
. . .
The Light to Carry
Rachel and Daniel were beginning to learn something important.
God’s direction doesn’t always arrive as a complete map.
Often, it comes one step at a time.
A phone number.
A conversation.
An invitation.
A company picnic.
An afternoon with two children and a tired dog.
Ordinary things.
Rachel wasn’t ready to call Daniel God’s answer.
She had learned not to force an answer simply because she wanted one.
So she watched.
She listened.
And she noticed.
Daniel didn’t treat Ethan and Lily as obstacles between himself and Rachel.
He invited them.
Included them.
Talked to them.
Played with them.
And when Rachel thanked him, his answer was simple.
They’re part of you.
Daniel didn’t realize how deeply those words reached her.
He didn’t know about the questions Rachel had carried concerning the man who might someday become part of her children’s lives.
He was simply revealing his character.
And sometimes character speaks louder than promises.
Daniel was also changing.
He didn’t know where those changes would lead.
He was looking for a house because he didn’t want to keep paying rent.
Sadie needed room to run.
He wanted something permanent.
But somewhere along the way, Daniel had begun thinking less about having a place to live and more about having a home.
Something else was happening too.
Rachel spoke about God differently from anyone Daniel remembered.
She didn’t merely know things about Him.
She knew Him.
Daniel could hear the difference.
And for the first time, he was beginning to want that for himself.
Not religion.
Not another church routine.
Not more information.
Something real.
Daniel didn’t yet know how to find it.
But he had begun looking.
Rachel and Daniel were getting to know each other.
And without realizing it, Daniel was beginning to want to know Someone else.
Jesus.
The road ahead was still uncertain.
Rachel had questions.
Daniel had even more.
Neither needed every answer tonight.
They only needed to keep taking the next step.
Because when God orders our steps, sometimes we understand where He’s leading only after we’ve already begun to walk.
. . .
In Christ.
Journey 7 — Getting to Know You.
End
In Christ
Journey 8 — A Place to Call Home
Daniel thought he was searching for a house. God was awakening a hunger for something far greater.
As Daniel begins looking for a place to settle down, his growing friendship with Rachel leads him somewhere unexpected—her church. There he witnesses worship unlike anything he has known before: hands raised, flags moving, people dancing, and hearts completely focused on God.
For the first time, Daniel begins to see the difference between knowing about God and truly knowing Him.
He hasn't surrendered his life to Christ yet . . . but religion is no longer enough.
Scripture for the Journey
Psalm 84:2
“My soul longs, yes, even faints
For the courts of the LORD;
My heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.”
The Light to Carry
Sometimes seeing someone else's relationship with God awakens a hunger in our own heart.
Daniel was looking for a place to call home . . .
but God was leading him toward home in Christ.
Listen To Journey 8
In Christ
Journey 8 — A Place to Call Home
Daniel stood in the middle of his apartment living room with his phone in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
Sadie sat beside him.
On the screen was another house.
Three bedrooms.
Two bathrooms.
Two-car garage.
And a fenced backyard.
Daniel enlarged the picture of the backyard.
Sadie's ears lifted.
“Don't get excited.”
Sadie stared at the phone.
“You don't even know what you're looking at.”
Her tail tapped against the floor.
Daniel looked at the picture again.
The yard was bigger than the last one.
A lot bigger.
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”
Sadie stood.
“That wasn't an offer.”
Her tail moved faster.
Daniel shook his head.
“You're terrible with money.”
Sadie walked toward the front door.
Daniel laughed.
“We're not going anywhere yet.”
He looked back at the listing.
The apartment had been fine when he first arrived in town.
It was clean.
Quiet.
Close enough to work.
And most importantly, it had been available when Daniel needed somewhere to land.
But lately, it had begun to feel temporary.
Maybe because it was.
Daniel hadn't moved here expecting to stay forever.
He hadn't really known what he expected.
Take the job.
Rent an apartment.
Figure out the rest later.
Later seemed to have arrived.
He scrolled farther down the listing.
The payment wouldn't be much more than his rent.
Property taxes weren't terrible.
The commute to work would actually be shorter.
The garage was big enough for his truck and still left room for tools.
And Sadie would have a yard.
Daniel nodded.
“See? Practical.”
Sadie tilted her head.
“Completely practical.”
He scrolled back to the top.
Three bedrooms.
Daniel stared at the screen.
“Okay, that might be a little excessive.”
Sadie continued staring at him.
“One bedroom for me. One for guests.”
He paused.
“And you need an office.”
Sadie's tail tapped the floor again.
“Exactly.”
Daniel took another drink of coffee.
“You understand me.”
. . .
Later that afternoon, Daniel met a real-estate agent at the house.
The photographs had been generous.
Very generous.
The kitchen looked considerably smaller in person.
One of the bedroom doors wouldn't close.
The carpet had seen better decades.
And the fenced backyard had a section leaning far enough to one side that Sadie probably could have escaped without jumping.
Daniel stood in the backyard with his hands in his pockets.
The agent smiled apologetically.
“It needs a little work.”
“A little?”
She laughed.
“All right. More than a little.”
Daniel looked toward the house.
“I don't mind doing some work.”
He had always been handy.
Painting didn't bother him.
Neither did replacing a door or repairing a fence.
But something about the house didn't feel right.
Not wrong.
Just not his.
The agent looked at her tablet.
“I've got another one about ten minutes from here.”
“Three bedrooms?”
She checked.
“Yes.”
Daniel sighed.
“Of course it is.”
She looked at him curiously.
“Is that a problem?”
“No.. Apparently my dog needs an office.”
The agent stared at him for a second.
Then laughed.
“I've heard stranger reasons for buying a house.”
Daniel followed her back toward the driveway.
He wasn't buying a house for Sadie.
Not really.
He simply didn't want to keep throwing money into rent if he was going to stay.
And lately, for the first time since arriving in town, Daniel had begun thinking in those terms.
If I stay.
Not when he left.
Not where he might go next.
If he stayed.
Something was changing.
He just wasn't sure what.
. . .
That evening Rachel was finishing dishes when her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen and smiled.
Daniel.
Lily noticed immediately.
“Is that Daniel?”
Rachel looked at her daughter.
“Why?”
“Because you smiled before you answered.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes.
“You are six.”
“I know.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
Lily grinned and disappeared toward the living room.
Rachel answered.
“Hello.”
“Hey.”
“Hey yourself.”
Daniel was quiet for a moment.
“I think my dog is trying to buy a house.”
Rachel laughed.
“What?”
“I've been looking at houses.”
“You're buying a house?”
“Looking. There's a difference.”
“That's usually how buying starts.”
“I'm trying to be practical.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
Daniel laughed.
“I don't want to keep paying rent if I'm going to be here for a while. And Sadie needs somewhere to run.”
“That makes sense.”
“Thank you.”
“I'm surprised you needed my approval.”
“I didn't.”
“Good.”
“I needed somebody to tell Sadie she doesn't need an office.”
Rachel laughed again.
“An office?”
“Apparently every house I like has three bedrooms.”
“So naturally one belongs to the dog.”
“Exactly.”
Rachel leaned against the kitchen counter.
Their conversations had become easy.
Sometimes they talked about serious things.
Sometimes about nothing important at all.
Daniel told her about the houses he had seen.
Rachel told him about Ethan's latest school project and Lily's determination to help with it whether Ethan wanted her help or not.
Then the conversation drifted.
Work.
The town.
Places Daniel still hadn't visited.
Eventually Daniel asked a question.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“You said your church was different.”
Rachel paused.
“I did.”
“How different?”
She smiled.
“How do I answer that?”
“That bad?”
“No.. Not bad.”
“Then why did you hesitate?”
“Because different means different things to different people.”
Daniel sat back on his couch.
Sadie climbed up beside him.
Rachel continued.
“You told me you grew up in a pretty structured church.”
“Very.”
“Everything had a time.”
“Pretty much.”
“A place.”
“Yes.”
“And probably a bulletin telling everybody when to stand up and sit down.”
Daniel laughed.
“You've been there?”
“I've been to churches like that.”
“So yours isn't like that.”
“No..”
Daniel waited.
Rachel tried to think of how to explain it without making her church sound strange.
“We worship.”
“I figured that.”
“No, I mean . . .”
She stopped.
Daniel could hear the hesitation.
“What?”
Rachel thought for another moment.
“People come expecting to meet with God.”
Daniel didn't answer.
Rachel continued.
“We sing. We pray. There's preaching. It's still church.”
“But?”
“But people aren't just going through the motions.”
Daniel looked across his apartment.
That sentence landed harder than Rachel could have known.
Going through the motions.
He had spent years doing exactly that.
Christmas.
Easter.
Church when it was convenient.
Prayer when something went wrong.
Believing the right things.
At least he thought they were the right things.
But Rachel talked about God differently.
Not as an idea.
Not as a tradition.
Not as Someone far away.
She talked about Him as though He were part of Tuesday afternoon.
Daniel remembered their earlier conversation.
He had told her she talked like she knew Him.
Her answer had been simple.
I do.
Daniel rubbed Sadie's ear.
“Rachel?”
“Yes?”
“Would it be all right if I went with you sometime?”
Silence.
Daniel pulled the phone away from his ear and checked the screen.
“Rachel?”
“I'm here.”
“You went quiet.”
“I know.”
“If you'd rather I didn't—”
“No.. That's not it.”
Rachel looked toward the living room.
Ethan and Lily were sitting on the floor.
She lowered her voice.
“You really want to come?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
“I've been wondering about it ever since we talked.”
Rachel's heart began beating a little faster.
She hadn't invited him.
She had deliberately not invited him.
She didn't want Daniel going to church because he thought it would impress her.
If he ever walked through those doors, she wanted it to be because he wanted to.
And now he had asked.
“Sunday?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Sunday.”
“All right.”
Then Rachel thought of something.
Her entire church knew she was single.
Her friends knew what she had been through.
They knew she had been praying.
Some of them knew about her list.
Her mother certainly knew about the list.
And Sunday morning Rachel was going to walk through the front doors with a man nobody had ever seen before.
“Oh boy.”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn't nothing.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Everybody knows me.”
“I would hope so. You go there.”
“No, Daniel. Everybody knows me.”
There was a pause.
Then he understood.
“Oh.”
“Yes. Oh.”
Daniel started laughing.
“This isn't funny.”
“It's a little funny.”
“You don't know these people.”
“Should I wear a disguise?”
“Daniel.”
“A hat?”
“Good night.”
“Wait. What time?”
Rachel gave him the time.
“I'll meet you outside.”
“Why outside?”
“So I can warn you.”
Daniel laughed.
“I'll see you Sunday.”
After they hung up, Rachel remained at the counter.
Lily appeared beside her.
“Is Daniel coming to church?”
Rachel looked down.
“How did you hear that?”
“You talk loud.”
Rachel sighed.
“Yes.”
Lily smiled.
“Everybody's going to look at him.”
Rachel stared at her daughter.
“Thank you, Lily.”
“You're welcome.”
. . .
Sunday arrived much too quickly for Rachel.
Daniel pulled into the church parking lot several minutes early.
He had almost changed his mind twice on the drive over.
Not because he was afraid.
He just wasn't sure what he was doing.
He had been inside churches hundreds of times.
But this felt different.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Daniel wasn't attending church because someone expected him to.
Not his parents.
Not a holiday.
Not tradition.
He was here because he wanted to understand something.
Or Someone.
He wasn't quite ready to say which.
Rachel stood near the entrance with Ethan and Lily.
Daniel parked and walked toward them.
Lily waved enthusiastically.
“Daniel!”
Several people near the entrance turned.
Rachel closed her eyes for half a second.
Daniel smiled.
“I see the disguise plan didn't work.”
“Don't start.”
Ethan gave Daniel a small wave.
“Hi.”
“Hey, Ethan.”
Daniel looked at Rachel.
“You okay?”
“Perfect.”
“You don't look perfect.”
“Everybody is looking.”
Daniel glanced around.
“They seem friendly.”
“That isn't the point.”
A woman walking past smiled broadly at Rachel.
Rachel smiled back.
Daniel waited until the woman had passed.
“Friend?”
“Yes.”
“She definitely looked.”
“I know.”
Daniel tried not to smile.
Rachel pointed toward the doors.
“Inside.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
. . .
The moment Daniel entered the sanctuary, he knew Rachel had been right.
It was different.
People were talking.
Laughing.
Greeting one another.
Someone shook Daniel's hand before he'd made it halfway to his seat.
Another person greeted Ethan by name.
Lily disappeared briefly to hug someone before returning to Rachel.
There was warmth in the room.
But there was something else too.
Expectation.
Daniel couldn't explain why he thought that.
Nobody had told him.
It simply felt as though these people had come expecting something to happen.
Rachel leaned toward him.
“Still okay?”
“So far.”
Then the music began.
Daniel recognized one of the songs.
At least he thought he did.
But within moments, he realized this wasn't like any church service he had experienced before.
People weren't simply standing and singing.
They were worshiping.
A woman near the front lifted both hands as she sang.
Across the sanctuary, someone began waving a large worship flag, the fabric sweeping through the air.
Another person danced before the Lord.
Daniel watched.
It wasn't a performance.
Nobody was applauding the dancer.
Nobody was watching the person with the flag.
They weren't trying to draw attention to themselves.
They were worshiping.
Daniel looked around the sanctuary.
Hands were raised everywhere.
Some people stood with their eyes closed.
Others sang with expressions of joy Daniel wasn't accustomed to seeing in church.
A few stood quietly with tears on their faces.
Some clapped.
Some danced.
Some simply stood with their hands lifted toward heaven.
And no one seemed embarrassed.
No one appeared worried about what the person beside them might think.
There was a freedom in the room Daniel had never experienced.
For most of his life, church had been orderly.
Predictable.
You knew when to stand.
You knew when to sit.
You knew when to sing.
You knew when the sermon would begin.
There was nothing necessarily wrong with any of that.
But this was different.
These people weren't simply participating in a church service.
They were worshiping God.
Daniel watched another flag move through the air.
He watched a man several rows ahead lift both hands.
He watched a woman step into the aisle and dance as she worshiped.
And then Daniel looked at Rachel.
She wasn't watching any of it.
She wasn't watching Daniel.
Her eyes were closed.
Her hands were raised.
And there was something on her face Daniel had seen before but had never quite understood.
Peace.
Joy.
Love.
Rachel wasn't singing about Someone far away.
She was worshiping Someone she knew.
Daniel remembered their conversation.
He had told her:
“You talk like you know Him.”
And Rachel had answered:
“I do.”
Standing beside her now, Daniel understood a little more of what she meant.
She really did.
Daniel turned toward the front again.
He didn't raise his hands.
He didn't dance.
He certainly wasn't ready to pick up a flag.
But he kept watching.
And listening.
Something was happening inside him.
What he saw didn't frighten him.
It didn't make him want to leave.
It drew him.
These people had something Daniel didn't understand.
More importantly . . .
they seemed to have something Daniel didn't have.
What did they know that he didn't?
What had they experienced that he hadn't?
How could someone become so focused on God that they stopped caring who might be watching?
For years Daniel had believed in God.
He believed Jesus was the Son of God.
He believed Jesus died on the cross.
He believed He rose again.
Daniel knew the stories.
He knew the words.
He knew what Christians were supposed to believe.
But standing in that sanctuary, Daniel began to recognize something he had never seriously considered.
There was a difference between believing things about God . . .
and having a personal relationship with Him.
That was what he saw around him.
Relationship.
These people weren't worshiping an idea.
They weren't worshiping a tradition.
They weren't merely following a religion.
They were worshiping Someone they knew.
Daniel looked toward Rachel again.
She had never tried to convince him of that.
She hadn't preached at him.
She hadn't pushed him to come to church.
She hadn't even invited him.
Daniel had asked to come.
And now he understood why that mattered.
This wasn't about Rachel.
Something inside Daniel himself was beginning to reach toward God.
The realization surprised him.
He wasn't here because he wanted Rachel to think better of him.
He wasn't here because attending her church might move their relationship forward.
For the first time in his life, Daniel wanted something from God that had nothing to do with fixing a problem.
He wanted to know Him.
Daniel didn't know how.
He didn't understand what came next.
But he knew he didn't want to spend the rest of his life merely knowing things about Jesus.
He wanted to know Jesus.
The worship continued.
Daniel remained where he was.
Watching.
Listening.
Thinking.
He wasn't ready to join the people dancing.
He wasn't ready to lift his hands.
But for perhaps the first time in his life . . .
Daniel wished he understood why they did.
. . .
Eventually the worship came to an end.
People returned to their seats.
The pastor stepped forward.
Daniel sat beside Rachel.
But something had changed.
He wasn't simply visiting Rachel's church anymore.
He was searching.
And now Daniel was beginning to understand what he was searching for.
The pastor began speaking.
Daniel listened more carefully than he expected to.
The message wasn't complicated.
It wasn't filled with religious words Daniel couldn't understand.
The pastor talked about knowing God rather than simply knowing about Him.
Daniel almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because somehow the same question seemed to be following him everywhere.
He thought about the preacher on the radio during his drive into town.
Who am I in Christ?
He thought about Rachel.
I do.
He thought about what he had just witnessed.
People worshiping God with complete freedom.
Then he thought about himself.
Years of church.
Years of believing.
Years of knowing facts about Jesus.
But if someone asked Daniel whether he knew Jesus the way Rachel seemed to know Him . . .
or the way these people seemed to know Him . . .
Daniel knew the answer now.
He didn't.
That realization didn't make him angry.
It didn't make him defensive.
It made him hungry.
There had to be more.
And Daniel wanted to find it.
. . .
After the service, Daniel discovered Rachel had not exaggerated.
People knew her.
A lot of people knew her.
And apparently every one of them wanted to meet him.
Rachel introduced him simply.
“This is my friend Daniel.”
Daniel noticed the word.
Friend.
It didn't bother him.
It was true.
For now.
Some people smiled.
Some shook his hand.
A few looked at Rachel and then at Daniel with expressions that said considerably more than their mouths did.
Daniel waited until they were outside.
“You were right.”
Rachel looked at him.
“About what?”
“Everybody knows you.”
“I told you.”
“And I think three women just planned our future.”
Rachel stopped walking.
“Daniel!”
He laughed.
“I said I think.”
Rachel shook her head, but she was smiling.
Ethan and Lily ran ahead toward the car.
Then Rachel became serious.
“So?”
Daniel knew exactly what she meant.
He looked back toward the church.
“So what?”
“Don't do that.”
“Do what?”
“You know what I'm asking.”
Daniel smiled.
Rachel waited.
Finally she said it.
“Was it too different?”
Daniel looked toward the building.
“Yeah.”
Rachel's smile faded slightly.
Daniel saw it.
“But not the way you're thinking.”
She waited.
“It was different.”
He searched for the right words.
“I've been in church most of my life, Rachel.”
“I know.”
“But I've never seen people worship like that.”
Rachel said nothing.
“The flags.”
She smiled.
“The dancing.”
Her smile grew.
“All those hands in the air.”
Rachel waited.
Daniel looked at her.
“Nobody cared who was watching.”
“No..”
“Why?”
Rachel thought for a moment.
“Because they weren't worshiping for the people watching.”
Daniel looked back toward the church.
That answer stayed with him.
Rachel continued softly.
“There's freedom when worship becomes about Him instead of us.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“I could see that.”
Rachel studied his face.
“Did it make you uncomfortable?”
“A little.”
Her expression changed.
Daniel continued.
“But mostly because I didn't understand it.”
He looked toward the doors again.
“I've never seen people that free in church.”
Rachel smiled.
“Now you know what I meant when I said it was different.”
“Yeah.”
Daniel became quiet.
Then he looked at her.
“You know what bothered me the most?”
“What?”
“I think they knew exactly Who they were worshiping.”
Rachel didn't answer.
Daniel continued.
“I've sung songs in church before.”
He paused.
“But I don't think I've ever worshiped God like they were worshiping Him.”
Rachel felt something rise in her heart.
Hope.
But she immediately gave it back to God.
Daniel's journey toward God could not be about her.
She couldn't make this decision for him.
She couldn't pull him toward Jesus simply because she was beginning to care about him.
If Daniel came to Christ, it had to be real.
It had to be his.
Rachel nodded.
“You don't have to understand everything today.”
“I know.”
They began walking toward the cars.
Rachel reached for her door.
Daniel called after her.
“Rachel?”
She turned.
“Yeah?”
Daniel hesitated.
Then smiled slightly.
“I think I want to come back.”
Rachel didn't try to hide her smile this time.
“Then come back.”
. . .
That evening Daniel sat on the couch.
Sadie lay beside him.
His laptop was open.
Another house listing filled the screen.
Three bedrooms.
Two bathrooms.
A garage.
A fenced backyard.
Normally Daniel would have been calculating payments.
Comparing square footage.
Checking the distance from work.
Instead, his mind kept returning to that morning.
The flags.
The dancing.
The raised hands.
The freedom.
Rachel worshiping.
The pastor's words.
Knowing God.
Daniel looked at Sadie.
“I don't understand any of this.”
Sadie rested her head against his leg.
Daniel closed the laptop.
For years, he had thought he understood Christianity.
Believe in God.
Believe Jesus was His Son.
Try to be a decent person.
Go to church sometimes.
That was Christianity.
Wasn't it?
But what he had seen that morning was more than religion.
Daniel couldn't explain it away.
And for the first time . . .
he didn't want to.
He wanted what those people had.
Not the flags.
Not the dancing.
Not even the freedom he had seen.
Those were only the things Daniel could see.
What he really wanted was what was behind them.
They knew God.
Daniel leaned his head against the back of the couch.
He remembered the awkward prayer he had prayed only days earlier.
God?
I don't know what I'm looking for.
But I think I'm looking.
Now Daniel knew a little more.
He closed his eyes.
“God . . .”
He paused.
“I don't know how to do this.”
The apartment was quiet.
“I've known about You almost my whole life.”
Daniel swallowed.
“But I don't think I've ever known You.”
He thought about the people worshiping that morning.
He thought about Rachel.
Then he said the only thing he knew to say.
“If what I saw today is real . . .”
He paused.
“I want to know You too.”
There was no voice.
No sudden answer.
No dramatic moment.
Just Daniel.
Sadie.
And a prayer unlike any Daniel had prayed before.
He wasn't asking God for a better job.
He wasn't asking Him for a house.
He wasn't asking Him to fix his past.
He wasn't even asking Him for Rachel.
For the first time . . .
Daniel was asking for God.
The house could wait.
Daniel had spent weeks looking for somewhere to belong.
A new town.
A new job.
An apartment.
Maybe soon, a house.
But that Sunday morning, God had awakened a deeper hunger.
Daniel was beginning to discover that a person could have an address . . .
a job . . .
possessions . . .
even religion . . .
and still not know where he truly belonged.
Daniel hadn't surrendered his life to Christ yet.
He didn't understand what that would mean.
But he was no longer satisfied with knowing about Jesus.
He wanted a personal relationship with Him.
And sometimes . . .
before a person can find the place he truly belongs . . .
he first has to realize that he's been searching for home in all the wrong places.
Daniel thought he was looking for a house.
God was leading him toward something far greater.
Home in Christ.
Scriture for the Journey
Psalm 84, verses one and two.
“How lovely is Your tabernacle,
O LORD of hosts!
My soul longs, yes, even faints
For the courts of the LORD;
My heart and my flesh cry out for the living God.”
The Light to Carry
Sometimes God uses the relationship others have with Him to awaken a hunger in our own hearts.
Daniel had spent years knowing things about God.
Now he wanted to know God Himself.
He hadn't surrendered his life to Christ yet.
But religion was no longer enough.
Something had changed.
Daniel had seen people worship God with freedom because they knew the One they were worshiping.
And now . . .
he wanted to know Him too.
Journey 8 — A Place to Call Home
End
In Christ
Journey 9 — When Knowing About Him Is Not Enough
For years, Daniel knew about Jesus. Today . . . Daniel finally knows Him.
Daniel returns to church carrying a hunger he cannot quite explain. This time, instead of watching how everyone else worships, his attention begins turning toward Jesus.
As the Holy Spirit ministers to his heart, Daniel realizes that for nearly twenty-five years he has believed about Jesus without ever personally surrendering his life to Him.
With Rachel quietly beside him, Daniel reaches the moment that changes everything.
He needs more than religion.
He needs a Savior.
Scripture for the Journey
2 Corinthians 5:17
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”
The Light to Carry
Faith is more than knowing the story of the cross. It is personally trusting the One who died and rose again for you.
For years, Daniel knew about Jesus.
Today . . . Daniel knows Him.
In Christ. ❤️🙏
Listen To Journey 9
In Christ
Journey 9 — When Knowing About Him Is Not Enough
Sunday morning came differently this time.
Daniel didn’t sit in his truck wondering whether he should go inside.
He didn’t nearly turn around.
He didn’t need Rachel waiting outside to make the building feel less unfamiliar.
He wanted to be there.
That realization stayed with him as he crossed the parking lot.
A week earlier, Daniel had walked into this church because he was curious.
He had wanted to understand Rachel.
He had wanted to understand the people he had seen worshiping with a freedom completely foreign to him.
But something had changed during the week.
He had thought about that Sunday more than he wanted to admit.
The flags.
The dancing.
The raised hands.
The expressions on people’s faces.
Rachel worshiping with her eyes closed as though everyone else in the room had disappeared.
But more than any of that, Daniel kept returning to one thought.
They knew Him.
Daniel had ended that first Sunday sitting in his apartment with Sadie beside him, praying words that still surprised him.
I’ve known about You almost my whole life.
But I don’t think I’ve ever known You.
If what I saw today is real . . .
I want to know You too.
He didn’t know whether anything had happened when he prayed.
There had been no voice.
No sudden feeling.
No answer that he could identify.
But the question wouldn’t leave him.
What would it mean to actually know Jesus?
Not know about Him.
Know Him.
. . .
Rachel saw Daniel coming across the parking lot and smiled.
Lily saw him a second later.
“Daniel!”
Daniel laughed.
“I think everybody knows I’m here now.”
Rachel looked around.
“Probably.”
Ethan gave him a small wave.
“Hi, Daniel.”
“Hey, Ethan.”
Lily looked around Daniel.
“Where’s Sadie?”
“At home.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked at Rachel.
“Do dogs usually come to church?”
Lily answered before Rachel could.
“No.”
Daniel nodded.
“That’s why.”
Lily thought about that.
“Sadie would like church.”
“I’m sure she would.”
Rachel smiled.
“You ready?”
Daniel looked toward the doors.
This time there was no hesitation.
“Yeah.”
“I am.”
. . .
The sanctuary didn’t seem quite as strange this time.
Daniel recognized a few faces.
A man he had met the previous Sunday shook his hand.
Someone else remembered his name.
Daniel wasn’t sure whether that was comforting or concerning.
He leaned toward Rachel.
“They really do remember everybody.”
Rachel smiled.
“I warned you.”
Daniel looked around.
“I think one of the three women who planned our future just waved at me.”
Rachel elbowed him lightly.
“Behave.”
Daniel smiled.
Then the music began.
His smile slowly disappeared.
Not because something was wrong.
Because almost immediately, Daniel felt the same thing he had felt the week before.
Expectation.
Only this time he wasn’t standing on the outside trying to understand everybody else.
This time he listened.
. . .
The worship began quietly.
Daniel stood beside Rachel.
Around him, hands began to rise.
A flag moved slowly near the front.
Someone stepped into the aisle to worship.
Daniel noticed it all.
But this time he didn’t stare.
He had already seen the outward expressions.
Today he found himself wondering about what was happening inside the people.
What made them love God like this?
What made Rachel love Him like this?
What had he missed?
Daniel looked toward the front.
The words of the song spoke about Jesus.
His grace.
His forgiveness.
His love.
The cross.
Daniel had heard those words before.
Hundreds of times.
Maybe thousands.
But something about them was different today.
Or maybe Daniel was different.
He thought about the cross.
Jesus died for sinners.
Daniel knew that.
He had always known that.
But suddenly the thought became personal.
Jesus died for me.
Daniel swallowed.
He looked down.
Something tightened inside his chest.
He tried to push it away.
He couldn’t.
Another thought came.
How long had he known about Jesus?
Daniel began counting backward without intending to.
Years.
Decades.
Church services.
Christmas programs.
Easter Sundays.
Prayers said because prayers were what Christians said.
He knew who Jesus was.
He knew what Christians believed.
He knew the cross.
He knew the empty tomb.
And yet . . .
he didn’t know Him.
Daniel felt his eyes beginning to burn.
He blinked.
Not here.
He looked toward the ceiling for a moment.
That didn’t help.
Twenty-five years.
The number came into his mind almost unexpectedly.
Nearly twenty-five years.
Twenty-five years of knowing about Jesus.
Twenty-five years of believing God existed.
Twenty-five years of thinking that was enough.
And suddenly Daniel wasn’t thinking about what he had done with those years.
He was thinking about Who he had missed.
Jesus had been there all along.
And Daniel had settled for religion.
The realization broke something open inside him.
A tear escaped before he could stop it.
Daniel wiped it away quickly.
Then another came.
He glanced around.
Nobody was looking at him.
Nobody except Rachel.
And even she wasn’t staring.
Rachel had noticed something was happening, but she didn’t know what.
Daniel looked down.
His breathing had changed.
He felt as though everything he had believed about himself was being opened in front of God.
He didn’t know what to do.
Then, without thinking about it, Daniel reached over.
And took Rachel’s hand.
. . .
Rachel’s eyes opened.
She looked down.
Daniel was holding her hand.
Her first thought came immediately.
Oh no.
She glanced toward the people around them.
Everybody knows me.
Everybody already saw Daniel with me last Sunday.
What are they going to think now?
Then Rachel caught herself.
Rachel.
What are you doing?
She looked at Daniel.
Really looked at him.
Tears were running down his face.
His eyes were closed now.
His grip on her hand wasn’t playful.
It wasn’t romantic.
He wasn’t even looking at her.
Something was happening.
Something far more important than what anyone in the sanctuary might think about Rachel and the man holding her hand.
Rachel felt ashamed of the thought.
This isn’t about me.
She turned her attention back toward God.
She didn’t ask Daniel what was wrong.
She didn’t tell him what he should do.
She didn’t try to explain what he was feeling.
She simply held his hand.
And prayed.
Father . . . whatever You’re doing . . .
don’t let me get in the way.
. . .
Daniel couldn’t have explained what was happening.
The music continued around him.
People worshiped.
But the room seemed farther away now.
He thought about his life.
His mistakes.
His pride.
His failures.
The things he regretted.
The things nobody else knew.
For years, Daniel had compared himself with other people.
He wasn’t that bad.
He tried to do right.
He worked.
He paid his bills.
He didn’t deliberately hurt people.
Surely that counted for something.
But standing before God, none of those comparisons mattered.
Daniel wasn’t comparing himself to anyone anymore.
He was seeing himself before a holy God.
And he knew.
He needed forgiveness.
He needed Jesus.
Not Rachel’s Jesus.
Not his parents’ Jesus.
Not the Jesus he had heard about in church.
He needed Jesus for himself.
Daniel’s grip tightened slightly around Rachel’s hand.
His shoulders trembled.
The tears wouldn’t stop now.
And Daniel no longer cared.
Twenty-five years.
The thought returned.
So much time.
So many opportunities.
How had he missed this?
How had he been around Christianity for so long and never understood that Jesus wanted him?
Not his church attendance.
Not his religious knowledge.
Not an improved version of Daniel.
Him.
Daniel lowered his head.
And somewhere deep inside, the prayer began before the words ever reached his lips.
“Jesus . . .”
Rachel heard him.
Barely.
She kept her eyes closed.
Daniel swallowed.
“I’ve known about You for most of my life.”
His voice broke.
“But I don’t know You.”
Rachel felt tears forming in her own eyes.
She said nothing.
This was Daniel’s moment.
Daniel continued quietly.
“I don’t want to live that way anymore.”
He paused.
There were things he could have said.
Long explanations.
Promises.
Excuses.
But none of them seemed necessary.
“I’m a sinner.”
The words were difficult.
And freeing.
“I need You.”
Daniel breathed deeply.
“I believe You died for me.”
A pause.
“And I believe You rose again.”
His hand still held Rachel’s.
“Forgive me.”
Another tear fell.
“Jesus . . . I give You my life.”
Daniel stood quietly.
Then came the simplest words of all.
“Be my Lord.”
. . .
Nothing in the room exploded.
The music didn’t suddenly change.
There was no audible voice from heaven.
Most of the people around Daniel had no idea what had just happened.
But Daniel knew.
Something was different.
The burden he had been carrying seemed to loosen.
Not a burden he had picked up that morning.
One he suddenly realized he had carried for years.
Guilt.
Distance.
Emptiness.
Religion without relationship.
Daniel took a deep breath.
Then another.
For the first time that morning, he opened his eyes.
His hand was still holding Rachel’s.
He looked at her.
Rachel’s cheeks were wet too.
She smiled.
Not the smile she gave him when he teased her.
Not the smile she gave when Lily said something funny.
This one was different.
Daniel couldn’t explain it.
But somehow Rachel understood.
He looked toward the front again.
People were still worshiping.
A man several rows ahead had both hands raised.
The previous Sunday, Daniel had wondered why people did that.
He had wondered how someone could forget everyone around them and worship God so freely.
Now Daniel wasn’t thinking about them.
He wasn’t thinking about Rachel.
He wasn’t thinking about who might be watching.
Slowly, his hand loosened from Rachel’s.
Rachel felt him let go.
She looked over.
Daniel lifted one hand.
Then the other.
There was nothing dramatic about it.
Nobody told him to.
Nobody encouraged him.
He simply lifted his hands toward God.
And worshiped.
Rachel covered her mouth for a moment.
Then she lifted her own hands again.
A week earlier, Daniel had watched people worshiping Someone they knew.
Today . . .
Daniel knew Him too.
. . .
When worship ended, Daniel sat down.
He wasn’t sure he could explain what had happened.
He wasn’t even sure he wanted to try yet.
Rachel sat beside him.
For once, she didn’t say anything.
Daniel appreciated that.
The pastor began speaking.
The message was about new life in Christ.
Daniel almost smiled.
Of course it was.
A week ago, he might have wondered whether someone had told the pastor about him.
Today he simply listened.
The pastor talked about salvation not being earned.
About grace.
About the old life and the new.
About becoming a new creation in Christ.
Daniel listened differently now.
These weren’t merely teachings he was evaluating.
They were describing what had just happened to him.
For the first time, the words in Christ weren’t simply the title of a question Daniel had heard on the radio.
They meant something personal.
He was in Christ.
The thought nearly brought the tears back.
. . .
After the service, people began talking around them.
Daniel remained seated for a moment.
Rachel waited.
Finally he looked at her.
“Now I know what you meant.”
Rachel smiled softly.
“About what?”
Daniel looked toward the front of the sanctuary.
“Knowing Him.”
Rachel’s eyes filled again.
She nodded.
“Yeah.”
Daniel laughed quietly and wiped his face.
“I don’t know why I cried so much.”
Rachel smiled.
“You don’t have to know.”
“I think I’ve made up for twenty-five years in one morning.”
Rachel laughed through her own tears.
“Maybe.”
Daniel looked down at his hands.
“I’ve been around this my whole life.”
Rachel listened.
“I thought I was a Christian.”
He paused.
“I believed everything.”
“I know.”
“But I never gave Him me.”
Rachel didn’t answer immediately.
Then she said softly,
“You did today.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Yeah.”
He smiled.
“I did.”
. . .
Outside the church, Lily came running toward them.
She looked at Daniel.
Then stared at his face.
“Were you crying?”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“Lily.”
“What?”
Daniel laughed.
“Yes.”
Lily looked concerned.
“Are you sad?”
Daniel crouched slightly so he could look at her.
“No..”
He thought about the question.
“No, I’m not sad.”
Lily studied him.
“Then why were you crying?”
Daniel looked at Rachel.
Rachel raised her eyebrows as if to say, You’re on your own.
Daniel smiled.
“Because something really good happened.”
Lily accepted that immediately.
“Oh.”
Then she smiled.
“Okay.”
Ethan walked over more quietly.
“You coming next week?”
Daniel looked toward the church.
Then back at Ethan.
“Yeah.”
“I am.”
Ethan nodded.
“Cool.”
Daniel smiled.
For some reason, that simple word meant a lot.
. . .
That afternoon Daniel returned to his apartment.
Sadie greeted him as though he had been gone for a month instead of a few hours.
Daniel sat on the floor.
Sadie climbed halfway into his lap.
“All right. All right.”
He rubbed behind her ears.
“You wouldn’t believe what happened today.”
Sadie licked his chin.
Daniel laughed.
“I’ll take that as support.”
He leaned back against the couch.
The apartment looked exactly the same.
Same furniture.
Same guitar.
Same unopened mail on the counter.
Same house listings on the laptop.
Nothing around him had changed.
And yet everything had.
Daniel thought about the house search.
For days, finding a home had occupied his thoughts.
Bedrooms.
Garage.
Fenced yard.
Payments.
Commute.
Those things still mattered.
He still needed somewhere to live.
Sadie still needed somewhere to run.
But the urgency felt different.
Daniel had been trying to settle his life from the outside in.
Job.
Town.
House.
Maybe then he would feel as though he belonged somewhere.
But God had started from the inside.
Daniel looked around the apartment.
He smiled.
“Sadie?”
Her ears lifted.
“I think I found home before we found the house.”
Sadie stared at him.
Daniel laughed.
“Yeah. I know. You still want the yard.”
. . .
That evening Daniel picked up his guitar.
He hadn’t planned to play.
He simply sat down with it.
His fingers found familiar chords.
Songs he had played before.
Songs about God.
Songs about Jesus.
But now even the words felt different.
For years, Daniel had sung about Someone he knew about.
Tonight he was singing to Someone he knew.
He stopped playing.
The room became quiet.
Daniel bowed his head.
This prayer wasn’t desperate.
It wasn’t confused.
It wasn’t the prayer of a man searching anymore.
“Jesus . . . thank You.”
He paused.
“For not giving up on me.”
Daniel thought about the years again.
Nearly twenty-five of them.
He could have allowed regret to consume him.
Instead, another thought came.
Those years were gone.
But his life wasn’t.
Daniel didn’t know what God would do with the years ahead.
He didn’t know where his relationship with Rachel would lead.
He didn’t know which house he would eventually buy.
He didn’t know that one day music might become more than something he played alone in his apartment.
He didn’t know much at all about what came next.
But Daniel knew one thing.
He belonged to Jesus Christ.
And for the first time in his life . . .
that was enough.
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
Second Corinthians, chapter five, verse seventeen.
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”
The Light to Carry
It is possible to know the stories about Jesus . . .
to believe the facts about Jesus . . .
even to spend years around church . . .
and still never personally surrender your life to Him.
Daniel had spent nearly twenty-five years knowing about Jesus.
But when the Holy Spirit opened his heart, Daniel finally understood what had been missing.
He didn’t need more religion.
He needed a Savior.
And when Daniel called upon Jesus, asked for forgiveness, believed in His death and resurrection, and surrendered his life to Him . . .
Daniel became a new creation.
The man who entered church searching for answers walked out knowing the One he had been searching for.
For years, Daniel knew about Jesus.
Today . . . Daniel knew Him.
In Christ — Journey 9 — When Knowing About Him Is Not Enough
End
In Christ
Journey 10 — But God!
Two confirmations. Two hearts. One God who directs their steps.
Daniel has given his life to Jesus, and everything is beginning to look different. As he starts putting down roots, a three-bedroom house appears that not only has room for the future God has shown him—it will cost less than his apartment rent.
Meanwhile, Rachel is still carrying three questions about Daniel.
One by one, she brings those doubts before God.
One by one . . . they disappear.
Then the promises, the waiting, Daniel's relationship with Ethan and Lily, and his surrender to Jesus suddenly come together.
Overwhelmed by the faithfulness of God, Rachel strikes the steering wheel and cries:
“BUT GOD!”
Neither Daniel nor Rachel knows what God has independently shown the other.
But God knows.
Scripture for the Journey
Ephesians 3:20
“Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us.”
The Light to Carry
Sometimes God's blessing looks miraculous. Sometimes it makes remarkably good practical sense.
Daniel is learning to trust what God has shown him without using it to influence Rachel. Rachel is learning that her questions are not greater than the God who already knows the answers.
Two people. Two confirmations. One faithful God.
But God!
Listen To Journey 10
In Christ
Journey 10 — But God!
Monday morning looked exactly like Monday morning had always looked.
Daniel's alarm went off too early.
Sadie wanted breakfast.
The coffee wasn't ready fast enough.
And someone on the morning news was talking far too cheerfully for that hour of the day.
Daniel stood in the kitchen waiting for the coffee maker and looked toward Sadie.
“You know, I thought becoming a Christian might make Monday mornings easier.”
Sadie stared at him.
Daniel nodded.
“Apparently not.”
He poured his coffee.
Everything around him looked the same.
But Daniel wasn't.
Sunday kept coming back to him.
The worship.
The tears.
Rachel's hand in his.
The moment when he finally stopped knowing about Jesus and gave his life to Him.
Even now, Daniel wasn't sure he could explain everything that had happened.
But he knew something had.
He knew it as certainly as he knew he was standing in his kitchen.
Jesus wasn't a subject anymore.
He wasn't a doctrine Daniel agreed with.
He wasn't Someone Daniel remembered at Christmas and Easter.
Jesus was his Lord.
Daniel took a sip of coffee.
That thought was going to take some getting used to.
He smiled.
“Jesus . . .”
He stopped.
For most of his life, prayer had seemed as though it needed a beginning.
A proper place.
Maybe even proper words.
This morning Daniel simply talked.
“Thank You for yesterday.”
Sadie's tail tapped the floor.
Daniel looked at her.
“And thank You for her too.”
Sadie's tail moved faster.
“Don't get proud.”
. . .
Laura noticed before lunchtime.
Daniel was working at his desk when she stopped beside him.
She looked at him for several seconds.
Daniel finally looked up.
“What?”
“Something's different.”
Daniel glanced at his shirt.
“Same shirt.”
“Not the shirt.”
“My hair?”
Laura folded her arms.
“You know that's not what I mean.”
Daniel leaned back.
Normally he would have found another joke.
Instead, he smiled.
“I gave my life to Jesus yesterday.”
Laura's expression changed.
“You did?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel looked down for a moment.
“I thought I already knew Him.”
He shook his head.
“Turns out I knew a lot about Him.”
Laura pulled a chair closer.
“And now?”
Daniel thought about Sunday.
The tears.
The cross.
The prayer.
The moment he lifted his hands.
“Now I know Him.”
Laura smiled.
“Daniel . . . that's wonderful.”
“Yeah.”
He smiled.
“It really is.”
Laura studied him.
“So what happens now?”
Daniel laughed.
“I was hoping you knew.”
“No..”
“That's unfortunate.”
Laura laughed.
Daniel looked back at his computer.
“I guess I learn.”
He paused.
“And follow.”
He wasn't entirely sure what following Jesus would look like yet.
But for the first time in his life, Daniel wanted to find out.
. . .
That evening the house search returned.
Not because Daniel had received some new revelation about real estate.
His lease was still expensive.
His apartment was still small.
Sadie still needed a yard.
And paying rent every month for something he would never own still didn't make much sense to him.
But there was another reason Daniel kept looking at three-bedroom houses.
A reason he hadn't spoken aloud.
Rachel.
Ethan.
Lily.
Daniel sat at the kitchen table with his laptop.
Sadie lay beside his chair.
He clicked through several listings.
Too expensive.
Too far from work.
No garage.
Tiny yard.
Then another listing appeared.
Daniel stopped.
Three bedrooms.
Two bathrooms.
Two-car garage.
Fenced backyard.
The house wasn't new.
It wasn't fancy.
But it looked solid.
The commute to work would actually be shorter.
Daniel scrolled farther.
Then he saw the estimated payment.
He stared at the number.
He looked at his apartment.
Then back at the screen.
“No way.”
He pulled up his monthly rent.
Compared the numbers.
Then compared them again.
The house payment would be less than his rent.
Daniel leaned back.
“Sadie.”
Her ears lifted.
“We have a problem.”
Sadie stood.
Daniel turned the laptop toward her.
“This house has three bedrooms.”
Sadie's tail began moving.
“Two bathrooms.”
Faster.
“A garage.”
Sadie stepped closer.
“And a fenced backyard.”
Sadie put her nose against the screen.
Daniel pulled the laptop back.
“Don't lick the house.”
He looked at the numbers again.
“It would cost less than we're paying here.”
Sadie stared at him.
Daniel shook his head.
“You're going to make me look at it, aren't you?”
Her tail answered.
Daniel smiled.
“All right.”
He reached for the button to contact the real-estate agent.
Then stopped.
His eyes returned to the words:
Three bedrooms.
Daniel knew why those words mattered.
One bedroom for him.
And someday, if what he had sensed outside that convenience store really had been God . . .
one for Ethan.
One for Lily.
And Rachel wouldn't be visiting.
She would be home.
Daniel leaned back and stared at the screen.
He still hadn't told Rachel.
And he wasn't going to.
Not now.
He wasn't going to walk into her life announcing that God had told him she would be his wife.
He wasn't going to put that weight on her.
He wasn't going to use what he believed God had shown him to influence her decision.
If God had spoken to Daniel . . .
then God was perfectly capable of speaking to Rachel.
Daniel looked down at Sadie.
“Well, girl . . .”
He looked back at the house.
“I guess if I'm going to plan, I should plan believing God knows what He's doing.”
Sadie's tail tapped the floor.
Daniel smiled.
“But we're still being practical.”
Tap.
“This is a financial decision.”
Tap.
“The backyard has absolutely nothing to do with it.”
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Daniel laughed.
“That's what I thought.”
Then he clicked the button.
. . .
Rachel was happy.
She had been happy since Sunday.
Daniel had given his life to Jesus.
Every time she thought about it, she could see him standing beside her.
His hand reaching for hers.
The tears.
The prayer.
And then Daniel releasing her hand and slowly raising both hands toward God.
Rachel had prayed for him.
She had hoped.
But she had tried very hard not to make Daniel's relationship with God about her.
If he came to Jesus, it had to be because he wanted Jesus.
Sunday had answered that.
Daniel's surrender had been real.
It had been his.
And Rachel was thankful.
Very thankful.
Which was precisely why the doubts bothered her.
She was driving alone when the first one came.
The children were elsewhere, and the quiet inside the car gave her too much room to think.
Daniel.
She smiled at the name.
Then the smile faded.
There were things she needed to consider.
Real things.
Responsible things.
Rachel had two children.
She had already been through a marriage that ended painfully.
She couldn't simply follow her feelings.
She needed wisdom.
“Father . . .”
Rachel kept her eyes on the road.
“I know what happened with Daniel Sunday was real.”
She paused.
“And I'm so thankful.”
A few seconds passed.
“But I still have doubts.”
The thought came quietly.
What doubts?
Rachel's brow tightened.
She knew that question.
It wasn't audible.
But she knew.
“All right.”
She took a breath.
“He's younger than me.”
There it was.
The first one.
Five and a half years.
It had bothered her almost from the beginning.
Daniel was five and a half years younger.
Maybe it shouldn't matter.
But it did.
Or at least Rachel thought it did.
“What happens years from now?”
She continued driving.
“What if the age difference becomes a problem?”
Rachel waited.
She began thinking through all the reasons the difference concerned her.
And then . . .
nothing.
Rachel frowned.
She tried again.
Five and a half years.
It was a fact.
The number hadn't changed.
But the concern attached to it had.
It simply wasn't there.
Rachel shifted slightly in her seat.
“That was strange.”
She drove another mile.
“All right, Lord.”
There was still the most important issue.
Her children.
Rachel's hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel.
“Ethan and Lily.”
She couldn't afford to be wrong about that.
She wasn't choosing only for herself.
“If I ever marry again, that man isn't just getting me.”
Immediately she remembered Daniel at the company picnic.
Sadie running with the children.
Daniel laughing with Ethan.
Lily following Sadie everywhere.
She remembered Daniel including the children instead of treating them as something that complicated his time with Rachel.
Then she remembered the words that had stayed with her.
They're part of you.
Rachel swallowed.
“But being nice to them now isn't the same as being their father.”
That was true.
She tried to hold onto the concern.
What if Daniel wasn't ready?
What if someday the children became difficult?
What if he resented the responsibility?
What if—
Rachel stopped.
The doubt was gone.
Not answered point by point.
Gone.
Rachel stared through the windshield.
“Lord?”
Her voice was quieter now.
Something was happening.
She knew it.
She could still think about Ethan and Lily.
She could still be responsible.
She could still recognize the seriousness of bringing a man into their lives.
But the fear connected to Daniel was gone.
Rachel felt tears beginning to gather.
“No..”
She blinked them back.
“There is still one.”
And this one mattered.
This one brought everything together.
“Father, how do I know Daniel is really the man You have for me?”
There.
That was it.
They hadn't known each other long.
Daniel had only just given his life to Jesus.
She had been hurt before.
She knew how easily people could mistake hope for God's voice.
Rachel didn't want Daniel to be God's choice simply because she wanted him to be.
She didn't want loneliness choosing for her.
She didn't want emotion choosing for her.
She wanted God to choose.
That had been her prayer.
From the beginning.
You choose.
Rachel took a breath.
“What if I'm wrong?”
And then it happened.
The third doubt disappeared.
Rachel stopped speaking.
Her hands remained on the steering wheel.
The road stretched ahead of her.
But for several seconds she barely noticed it.
The age difference.
Gone.
Her fear about Daniel and the children.
Gone.
And now the deepest question of all.
Gone.
Rachel felt something rising inside her.
Not excitement.
Not at first.
Something much bigger.
She remembered.
Three times.
Three separate times God had told her He was going to give her a husband.
She had waited.
She had wondered.
She had been lonely.
She had looked around church and silently asked God,
What about this one?
What about that one?
And eventually she had understood she wasn't going to meet him there.
That hadn't made sense.
Her mother had expected her to meet someone in church.
Rachel had expected something similar.
But God had known.
Then there was Joey.
A good man.
A familiar man.
Someone she had once thought she wanted.
She had tried to make the pieces fit.
But they hadn't.
She had finally released him.
And two days later . . .
Daniel walked through the door of the convenience store.
Rachel's breath caught.
She remembered their first conversation.
“Are you married?”
“Kind of sorta.”
She almost laughed through the tears.
Then the memories came faster.
The phone calls.
The picnic.
Daniel with Ethan and Lily.
“They're part of you.”
His questions about church.
His questions about God.
“I think I'm looking.”
His first Sunday.
“I think I want to come back.”
And then yesterday.
Daniel standing beside her.
His hand reaching for hers.
His tears.
His prayer.
“Jesus . . . I give You my life.”
Rachel could hardly breathe.
All the moments that had seemed separate suddenly weren't separate anymore.
God had been there.
Before Joey.
Before Daniel.
Before the convenience store.
Before Rachel knew anything about what was coming.
God had known.
The tears came freely now.
Rachel blinked hard, keeping her attention on the road.
Her heart felt overwhelmed by the realization.
She had spent so much time wondering.
Questioning.
Waiting.
Trying to be careful.
Trying not to get ahead of God.
And all along . . .
God had been faithful.
Rachel shook her head as the tears continued.
A laugh escaped through them.
Then another.
She suddenly understood.
Not because Daniel had convinced her.
He hadn't.
Daniel had never once told her that God said she was supposed to marry him.
Not because Rachel had talked herself into it.
She had just tried three times to talk herself out of it.
And every doubt was gone.
The impact of that realization swept over Rachel all at once.
It was almost more than she could contain.
The promises.
The waiting.
The loneliness.
The questions.
The disappointments.
The prayers.
The children.
Daniel.
His salvation.
All of it seemed to come together in one overwhelming instant.
Rachel's chest tightened as another wave of tears came.
God hadn't forgotten her.
He hadn't been late.
He hadn't lost track of the promise.
He had been working while Rachel couldn't see Him working.
Rachel lifted one hand from the wheel.
The truth hit her with such force that she brought her palm down hard against the steering wheel.
“BUT GOD!”
The words burst out of her.
Not in anger.
Not as an argument.
They came from somewhere deeper.
Rachel was overwhelmed.
She began crying harder.
“Oh, Father . . .”
She shook her head.
“You knew.”
Her voice broke.
“You knew the whole time.”
She laughed through the tears.
There was no argument left.
No doubt left.
Only the overwhelming realization that the God who had promised was the God who had been directing every step.
“It's Daniel.”
She whispered it.
Then the reality struck her all over again.
“It's Daniel.”
Rachel didn't call him.
She didn't reach for her phone.
She didn't need to tell him.
Not yet.
She didn't know that Daniel already carried his own assurance.
She didn't know what had happened in his heart before he ever walked through the convenience-store door.
And Daniel didn't know what had just happened inside Rachel's car.
Neither had convinced the other.
Neither had used God to pressure the other.
God had dealt with each of them separately.
This moment belonged to Rachel and God.
She drove on with tears on her cheeks and gratitude filling the place where questions had lived only minutes before.
For the first time since Daniel walked through that convenience-store door . . .
Rachel knew.
. . .
Daniel toured the house two days later.
The real-estate agent unlocked the front door.
“Well?”
Daniel stepped inside.
“Already better than the last one.”
She laughed.
“That isn't a very high standard.”
“No..”
He looked around.
“But it's a start.”
The house wasn't spectacular.
It didn't need to be.
The kitchen was comfortable.
The appliances weren't new, but they were in good condition.
The living room had enough space for Daniel's furniture.
Then Daniel walked down the hallway.
The first bedroom was the largest.
He stepped inside briefly.
Then moved on.
The second bedroom.
Daniel stood in the doorway.
He pictured Ethan.
He didn't try to.
The thought simply came.
A bed.
Some shelves.
Maybe whatever an eight-year-old boy considered essential.
Daniel smiled.
Then he crossed the hallway and looked into the third bedroom.
Lily.
He could almost imagine the room no longer quiet.
Daniel shook his head slightly.
He was getting ahead of himself.
None of this had happened.
Rachel hadn't agreed to marry him.
They hadn't even discussed marriage.
And Daniel intended to keep it that way until the time was right.
But he couldn't pretend he didn't remember what had happened at that convenience store.
She's going to be your next wife.
He had carried those words privately ever since.
Daniel rested his hand against the doorframe.
“Lord . . . if that was You . . .”
He smiled slightly.
“You know what these rooms are for.”
He left it there.
No demand.
No attempt to force the future.
Just trust.
If God had spoken, God would bring it about His way.
Daniel wasn't responsible for convincing Rachel.
He was responsible for following God.
Then he opened the back door.
The yard was fenced.
Not enormous.
But plenty of room for Sadie.
The fence was solid.
There was even a mature tree providing shade near one corner.
Daniel could already picture her running across the grass.
He stepped into the garage.
Enough room for his truck.
Enough room for tools.
Enough room to work on something without doing it in the apartment parking lot.
Then he went back inside and stood in the kitchen.
He had already run the numbers.
Twice.
Then a third time because he didn't trust the first two.
With the expected payment, taxes, and insurance figured in, the house would still cost him less each month than his apartment rent.
That mattered.
Daniel wasn't going to make an irresponsible financial decision because he believed God had shown him something about his future.
If this house didn't make sense, he'd walk away.
But it did make sense.
A shorter commute.
A garage.
A fenced yard.
Enough room for the future.
And less each month than he was already paying.
Daniel smiled.
God's provision didn't always have to look impractical to be God's provision.
Sometimes God's blessing made very good sense.
The agent watched him.
“What do you think?”
Daniel looked down the hallway once more.
Three bedrooms.
He knew exactly why that mattered now.
“I think I'd like to make an offer.”
. . .
That evening Daniel called Rachel.
“I may have done something.”
Rachel smiled at the phone.
“Should I be concerned?”
“Probably.”
“What did you do?”
“I put an offer on a house.”
Rachel sat up.
“You did?”
“Three bedrooms.”
Rachel's heart gave a small jump.
She didn't know why those words suddenly sounded different.
“Three?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel smiled to himself.
He wasn't explaining that part.
Rachel teased him.
“Sadie's office.”
Daniel laughed.
“Something like that.”
“And the yard?”
“Fenced.”
“Garage?”
“Two-car.”
“Commute?”
“Shorter.”
Rachel laughed.
“You've thought this through.”
“That's not even the best part.”
“What is?”
Daniel leaned back against his couch.
“If everything works out, the payment will be less than I'm paying in rent.”
Rachel became quiet.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I kept looking at the numbers because I thought I was missing something.”
Rachel smiled.
“But you weren't.”
“No..”
Daniel looked around the apartment.
“I've been throwing more money at this place every month than I'd spend owning the house.”
Rachel shook her head.
“Sounds like a pretty easy decision.”
“That's what Sadie said.”
Rachel laughed.
“I knew she was behind this.”
“She has strong opinions about real estate.”
For a moment neither spoke.
Rachel thought about the drive.
The three doubts.
Her hand striking the steering wheel.
But God.
She knew something now that Daniel didn't know she knew.
Daniel thought about three bedrooms.
Rachel.
Ethan.
Lily.
He knew something Rachel didn't know he knew.
And neither one said a word.
Daniel broke the silence.
“If they accept the offer, maybe you and the kids could come see it.”
Rachel smiled.
“I think they'd like that.”
“Sadie would like to show Lily the backyard.”
“Sadie told you that?”
“Very clearly.”
Rachel laughed.
“All right.”
Then she softened.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah?”
“I'm happy for you.”
Daniel looked around his little apartment.
“Thanks.”
He smiled.
“I think I'm finally putting down roots.”
Rachel closed her eyes for a moment.
If only he knew.
“Yeah.”
Her smile deepened.
“I think you are.”
. . .
Daniel thought he was making a practical decision.
And he was.
A house payment lower than his rent.
A shorter drive to work.
A garage.
A fenced yard for Sadie.
But Daniel was also quietly planning for something he believed God had already shown him.
He knew why three bedrooms mattered.
He simply wasn't going to use that knowledge to push Rachel toward a future she needed to hear from God about for herself.
What Daniel didn't know was that God already had spoken to her.
Not through Daniel.
Not through pressure.
Not through wishful thinking.
God had removed three doubts from Rachel's heart.
The age difference.
Her concern for Ethan and Lily.
And the deepest question of all.
Is Daniel really the man God has for me?
Three doubts.
Three times God gave her peace.
And on the third . . .
the faithfulness of God became more than Rachel could contain.
But God.
Two people.
Two confirmations.
Neither one knowing what God had shown the other.
And one God who had been directing their steps long before either of them understood where those steps were leading.
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
Ephesians, chapter three, verse twenty.
“Now to Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power that works in us.”
. . .
The Light to Carry
Faith does not mean we never have questions.
Rachel had questions.
She had responsibilities.
She had children to protect and a heart that had already been hurt.
Her doubts were real.
But they were not greater than God.
One by one, Rachel brought three doubts before Him.
And one by one, God gave her peace.
Daniel had received something from God too.
But instead of using it to convince Rachel, he trusted God enough to let Him work in her heart.
Meanwhile, Daniel made a practical decision about a house.
The payment was lower than his rent.
The commute was shorter.
There was a garage.
A fenced yard.
And three bedrooms.
Daniel knew why those bedrooms might someday matter.
Rachel didn't know that he knew.
And Daniel didn't know that Rachel had finally received her answer.
Sometimes God's blessing looks miraculous.
And sometimes God's blessing makes remarkably good practical sense.
Sometimes we look at everything in front of us and say,
“But what about this?”
And then God reminds us of something greater.
But God.
The God who sees the end from the beginning.
The God who directs our steps.
The God who can speak to two hearts separately and lead them toward the same place.
The God who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think.
In Christ.
Journey Ten.
But God!
In Christ
Journey 11 — Trusting Him With Everything
Following Jesus means learning to trust Him with more than our salvation.
Daniel is hungry to live what he is learning. But when a conversation with Rachel—and then a Sunday morning message—turns to tithing, Daniel discovers that obedience can look very different when there is an actual number attached to it.
Ten percent suddenly seems like a lot.
As Daniel studies God's Word and takes a step of faith, he begins to understand that tithing isn't about buying God's blessing. It is about honoring God first and trusting Him with what He has already placed in our hands.
Then Daniel looks again at the house, the lower payment, and the provision God had already made—and realizes something:
God had been taking care of him before Daniel even knew enough to trust Him.
Scripture for the Journey
Proverbs 3:9–10 (NKJV)
“Honor the LORD with your possessions,
And with the firstfruits of all your increase;
So your barns will be filled with plenty,
And your vats will overflow with new wine.”
The Light to Carry
God isn't after ten percent of our hearts. He wants us.
Following Jesus means learning to trust Him with our money, our homes, our relationships, our plans, our future—with everything.
And as Daniel is discovering, the more we learn to trust God, the more we realize:
He has been trustworthy all along.
Listen To Journey 11
In Christ
Journey 11 — Trusting Him With Everything
Daniel had discovered something about being born again.
He had a lot to learn.
That didn't bother him.
Actually, he liked it.
For years, Daniel had assumed Christianity was mostly about knowing the right things.
Believe in God.
Believe Jesus was the Son of God.
Try to be a decent person.
Go to church.
Now he was beginning to understand that knowing Jesus changed the question.
It wasn't only,
What do I believe?
It was also,
How do I live because I believe it?
Daniel sat at his kitchen table early one morning with his Bible open.
Sadie lay beneath the table.
Daniel had started reading before work.
Some passages made sense immediately.
Others didn't.
And occasionally he would read something twice and realize he understood it even less the second time.
Daniel looked beneath the table.
“I'm beginning to think this is going to take a while.”
Sadie lifted her head.
“Don't judge me. You haven't read any of it.”
Her head dropped again.
Daniel smiled.
But he was hungry.
That was the difference.
He wanted to know.
More than that . . .
he wanted to do what God's Word said.
. . .
A few evenings later, Daniel and Rachel were talking on the phone.
The conversation had wandered through work, the children, the house, and eventually bills.
Daniel was still waiting for everything concerning the house to be finalized, and he had become very familiar with numbers.
Payments.
Insurance.
Utilities.
Moving expenses.
Every dollar seemed to have a destination before he even earned it.
Rachel mentioned something about her paycheck and her tithe.
Daniel stopped.
“Your what?”
“My tithe.”
Daniel knew the word.
At least he thought he did.
“How much do you tithe?”
“Ten percent.”
Daniel sat straighter.
“Ten percent?”
Rachel laughed softly.
“Yes.”
“Of what?”
“Of what I earn.”
Daniel reached for a piece of paper.
“Wait.”
Rachel heard buttons being pressed.
“Are you using a calculator?”
“Maybe.”
“Daniel.”
“I'm conducting research.”
Rachel laughed.
Daniel entered a number.
Then stared at the result.
“Rachel . . . that's a lot of money.”
“It can be.”
He hadn't expected that answer.
“You agree with me?”
“Ten percent is ten percent.”
Daniel looked at the calculator again.
“I've put ten or twenty dollars in an offering before and thought I was doing pretty good.”
Rachel smiled.
“You were giving according to what you knew.”
Daniel was quiet.
“So why ten percent?”
Rachel paused.
She could have tried to explain everything she knew.
But Daniel was learning to seek God for himself now.
“I believe the first belongs to God.”
“The first?”
“The first part of what He provides.”
Daniel leaned back.
Rachel continued.
“For me, it's a way of saying that God comes first and that I trust Him with what He's given me.”
Daniel looked at the number on his calculator again.
“That sounds very spiritual until you put an actual number beside it.”
Rachel laughed.
“It does.”
“Doesn't it ever bother you?”
“Sometimes I've had to choose trust.”
That answer stayed with him.
Rachel wasn't telling him that obedience was always easy.
She was telling him God was trustworthy.
Daniel finally said,
“I don't know anything about this.”
“Then don't do it because I do.”
Daniel became quiet.
Rachel continued gently.
“Learn what God's Word says. Then obey Him because you believe Him.”
Daniel smiled.
“That's annoyingly reasonable.”
“I try.”
. . .
Sunday morning Daniel arrived at church carrying his Bible.
Not because everyone else carried one.
Because he expected to use it.
That was new.
He sat beside Rachel.
Ethan and Lily were already settling into their places.
Lily leaned toward Daniel.
“Did you bring Sadie?”
“No..”
“Why?”
“Because I'm still not sure your church is ready for her.”
Lily considered that.
“Our church has seen weirder things.”
Rachel turned.
“Lily.”
“What?”
Daniel covered his mouth.
Rachel looked at him.
“Don't encourage her.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You didn't have to.”
The music began a few minutes later.
Daniel worshiped differently now.
He still wasn't as outwardly expressive as some of the people around him.
But he wasn't watching them anymore.
He was worshiping Jesus.
That alone still amazed him.
When the pastor eventually stepped forward, Daniel opened his Bible.
The pastor smiled at the congregation.
“This morning I want to talk about something that makes some Christians very uncomfortable.”
Daniel glanced at Rachel.
She shrugged.
The pastor continued.
“Money.”
Several people laughed.
Daniel whispered,
“Of course.”
Rachel looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The pastor opened his Bible.
“More specifically, we're going to talk about honoring God with what He has placed in our hands.”
Daniel slowly turned his head toward Rachel.
Rachel immediately whispered,
“Don't look at me.”
Daniel looked forward again.
This might be interesting.
. . .
The pastor began.
“Let's start with Proverbs, chapter three, verses nine and ten.”
Daniel found the passage.
The pastor read:
“Honor the LORD with your possessions, And with the firstfruits of all your increase; So your barns will be filled with plenty, And your vats will overflow with new wine.”
The pastor looked up.
“Notice something.”
“God says to honor Him with our possessions and with the firstfruits of our increase.”
He paused.
“That word first matters.”
Daniel thought about his conversation with Rachel.
I believe the first belongs to God.
The pastor continued.
“Many times we approach giving backward. We receive our income, pay the mortgage or rent, pay utilities, buy groceries, make our other payments, spend some on ourselves . . . and then we look at what's left and decide whether we can afford to give something to God.”
A few people nodded.
“But firstfruits says something different.”
The pastor held up his Bible.
“It says, ‘God, I honor You first.’”
Daniel shifted slightly.
The pastor continued.
“Now, does God need your money?”
He smiled.
“No..”
“Psalm twenty-four tells us the earth is the Lord's, and all its fullness. God isn't sitting in heaven hoping we put enough money in the offering to keep Him going another week.”
The congregation laughed.
“Everything already belongs to Him.”
Daniel looked down at his Bible.
That was a different way of thinking about it.
The pastor continued.
“The question isn't whether God needs what is in your hand.”
“The question is whether you recognize Who placed it there.”
Daniel stopped turning the page.
That one landed.
. . .
The pastor turned to another passage.
“Now let's go to Malachi, chapter three.”
Daniel found it.
“Verse ten says, ‘Bring all the tithes into the storehouse, That there may be food in My house, And try Me now in this,’ Says the LORD of hosts, ‘If I will not open for you the windows of heaven And pour out for you such blessing That there will not be room enough to receive it.’”
Daniel looked at the verse.
All the tithes.
He already knew where this was going.
The pastor smiled.
“The word tithe means a tenth.”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly.
Rachel noticed.
She didn't say anything.
“Ten percent,” the pastor continued.
Daniel opened his eyes.
Yep.
There it was.
“Now somebody sitting here has already stopped listening to the sermon.”
A few people laughed.
“You're doing math.”
More laughter.
Daniel looked down.
Rachel pressed her lips together.
The pastor continued.
“You're calculating ten percent of your paycheck, and you're thinking, ‘Pastor . . . that's a lot of money.’”
Daniel slowly turned toward Rachel.
She didn't even look at him.
“Don't.”
Daniel whispered,
“I didn't say anything.”
“You didn't have to.”
The pastor's expression became more serious.
“Yes. Ten percent can look like a lot when you're looking at your income.”
“But here's what we need to understand.”
“Tithing is not about God trying to take something away from us.”
“It is about putting God first and trusting Him with what He has already placed in our hands.”
The pastor paused.
“The question isn't whether God can get by without your ten percent.”
Daniel looked up.
“The question is whether you trust God with the hundred percent.”
Daniel stopped.
That one went deeper.
. . .
The pastor continued.
“And I want to make something very clear because this teaching has sometimes been misused.”
“You do not give money to God so you can purchase His blessing.”
Daniel listened carefully.
“God is not an investment program.”
A few people laughed.
“You don't put ten dollars in the offering expecting God to owe you a hundred.”
“You don't tithe so you can force God to give you a bigger house, a better car, or a larger paycheck.”
Daniel thought immediately about the house.
The pastor continued.
“We don't buy the favor of God.”
“We couldn't afford it if it were for sale.”
A quiet murmur moved through the congregation.
“Jesus already paid the price we could never pay.”
Daniel's eyes remained fixed on the pastor.
“We give because we love God.”
“We give because we honor Him.”
“We give because we recognize Him as our source.”
“And we give because obedience says . . .”
The pastor paused.
“Father, I trust You.”
Daniel looked down at Malachi again.
The pastor continued.
“This is one of the unusual places in Scripture where God tells His people to test Him—to trust Him enough to obey and discover His faithfulness.”
“But don't misunderstand the promise.”
“Tithing doesn't mean every Christian becomes wealthy.”
“It doesn't mean you'll never have a bill you don't know how to pay.”
“It doesn't mean nothing difficult will ever happen.”
“It means our confidence is no longer in the amount we can hold onto.”
“Our confidence is in God.”
The room became very quiet.
“God isn't after ten percent of your heart.”
Daniel looked up.
“He wants you.”
That sentence struck Daniel harder than anything else the pastor had said.
Because Daniel had already given Him that.
Or at least . . .
he thought he had.
. . .
That afternoon Daniel sat at his kitchen table.
Bible.
Checkbook.
Calculator.
Sadie.
He looked at his income.
Then at the calculator.
He entered the number.
Ten percent.
Daniel stared at the result.
“No..”
He calculated it again.
Same number.
He cleared the calculator.
Tried once more.
Same number.
Daniel looked at Sadie.
“The calculator appears to be broken.”
Sadie stared at him.
“That's considerably more than twenty dollars.”
Sadie's tail moved once.
Daniel leaned back.
The sermon had sounded very good sitting in church.
Now there was an actual number in front of him.
He thought about the house.
Closing costs.
Moving expenses.
Things he would eventually need.
Bills didn't stop because someone got born again.
Daniel looked at the number again.
He could find reasons not to do this.
Plenty of them.
Maybe he'd start next month.
Maybe he'd work up to ten percent.
Maybe twenty dollars really wasn't that bad.
Then he remembered his prayer.
Jesus . . . I give You my life.
Daniel sat quietly.
He had meant it.
All of it.
But now Jesus was beginning to show him what all of it meant.
Daniel looked toward his Bible.
“Lord . . .”
He took a breath.
“I said I wanted to follow You.”
He looked at the calculator.
“And I'm not going to pretend I like that number.”
Sadie's ears lifted.
Daniel smiled slightly.
“But if this is what Your Word teaches . . .”
He paused.
“I trust You.”
There was no dramatic feeling.
No voice.
No sudden increase in his bank balance.
Daniel simply obeyed.
And for the first time in his life, he gave God the first tenth.
. . .
Later that evening, Daniel went back through his finances.
Not because he was worried.
Well . . .
maybe a little.
He wanted to see the numbers again.
The house paperwork was sitting nearby.
Daniel picked it up.
Mortgage payment.
Taxes.
Insurance.
He compared everything to what he had been paying for the apartment.
Daniel stared.
He already knew the house would cost less.
But tonight he saw it differently.
He wrote down the old rent.
Then the expected house payment.
Then the difference.
Daniel sat back.
For several moments he said nothing.
He looked at the amount he had tithed.
Then at the amount God had already made room for through the house.
Daniel's eyes moved slowly between the numbers.
The house had come first.
Before the sermon.
Before Daniel understood tithing.
Before he had ever calculated ten percent.
Before Daniel had decided to obey.
God had already been providing.
Daniel felt something settle inside him.
He had approached the tithe as though he were taking a chance on God.
But God had been taking care of Daniel long before Daniel knew enough to trust Him.
Daniel looked upward.
“You did this before I even knew enough to obey You.”
Sadie lifted her head.
Daniel looked at the house paperwork again.
“I thought I was taking a chance on You.”
He shook his head.
“You've been taking care of me the whole time.”
Daniel smiled.
He wasn't foolish enough to believe that tithing had purchased the house.
It hadn't.
God wasn't paying Daniel for giving.
The timing made that impossible anyway.
God's provision had come first.
Daniel's obedience was his response.
For perhaps the first time, Daniel understood what the pastor meant.
The question wasn't whether Daniel trusted God with ten percent.
It was whether Daniel trusted God with everything.
. . .
Daniel told Rachel the next evening.
“I did it.”
Rachel was quiet.
“You did what?”
“I tithed.”
A smile spread across her face.
“You did?”
“Yep.”
“And?”
Daniel hesitated.
“I hated watching that number leave my account.”
Rachel burst out laughing.
“Daniel!”
“I'm being honest.”
“I know.”
“I calculated it three times.”
“Why?”
“I was hoping mathematics had changed since Sunday.”
Rachel laughed harder.
“It hadn't.”
“No..”
Daniel's voice softened.
“But something else did.”
Rachel became quiet.
Daniel told her about the house numbers.
The rent.
The expected payment.
The difference.
Then he told her what he had realized.
“The house was already happening before I heard that sermon.”
“Yes.”
“Before I understood any of this.”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked down.
“I thought tithing meant I was proving to God that I trusted Him.”
Rachel waited.
Daniel continued.
“But when I looked at everything . . .”
He shook his head.
“I realized He'd already been showing me that I could trust Him.”
Rachel smiled.
“That's who He is.”
Daniel was quiet for a moment.
Then he said,
“I think I've spent most of my life asking God to prove Himself before I'd obey.”
Rachel listened.
“Now I'm starting to understand that obedience comes because He's already trustworthy.”
Rachel smiled.
“You're learning.”
Daniel laughed.
“Apparently that's going to take a while.”
“Yes.”
“That answer came awfully fast.”
“I've known you long enough.”
Daniel laughed.
. . .
A few days later, Daniel sat alone in the apartment with his guitar.
He had been thinking about the sermon all week.
Not just about money.
About everything.
His eyes moved around the apartment.
Soon, if everything continued moving forward, this wouldn't be home anymore.
There would be another house.
Three bedrooms.
A garage.
A fenced yard.
Room for Sadie.
And perhaps someday . . .
Rachel.
Ethan.
Lily.
But even that wasn't Daniel's to control.
Neither was his job.
His paycheck.
His house.
His guitar.
His future.
Daniel looked down at his hands.
When he prayed,
Jesus . . . I give You my life,
he had thought primarily about salvation.
Now he was beginning to understand.
Jesus wasn't asking to become one part of Daniel's life.
He was Lord of it.
All of it.
Daniel picked up the guitar.
Then he smiled.
“All right, Lord.”
“Apparently we're still working on what ‘everything’ means.”
Sadie's tail tapped the floor.
Daniel looked over.
“You're still not getting your own bedroom.”
Tap.
Daniel laughed.
“We'll discuss the yard.”
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
Proverbs, chapter three, verses nine and ten.
“Honor the LORD with your possessions,
And with the first fruits of all your increase;
So your barns will be filled with plenty,
And your vats will overflow with new wine.”
. . .
The Light to Carry
Daniel thought trusting Jesus meant trusting Him with his salvation.
Then God's Word began reaching into the ordinary places of his life.
Even his finances.
Ten percent looked enormous when Daniel calculated it.
But the lesson wasn't really about a number.
It was about trust.
Daniel learned that tithing wasn't a way to purchase God's blessing.
God's faithfulness isn't for sale.
The house itself proved that.
God had already been providing before Daniel understood enough to obey.
The lower payment.
The shorter commute.
The room for a future Daniel couldn't yet see completely.
God's provision came first.
Daniel's obedience followed.
And that's when Daniel began understanding something much larger than tithing.
Everything he had belonged to God.
His income.
His home.
His abilities.
His relationships.
His plans.
His future.
His life.
Following Jesus wasn't about giving God one part and keeping control of everything else.
Daniel had prayed,
“Jesus . . . I give You my life.”
Now he was learning what those words meant.
Not ten percent of his heart.
Not Sunday morning.
Not only the parts that were easy to surrender.
Everything.
And the more Daniel learned to trust God . . .
the more he discovered that God had been trustworthy all along.
In Christ.
Journey Eleven.
Trusting Him With Everything.
In Christ — Journey 12
Learning to Hear His Voice
God still leads His people. The question is: How do we learn to recognize when it is Him?
Daniel's new life in Christ has given him a question he never seriously considered before: How do I know when God is speaking to me?
A conversation with Pastor Nash teaches Daniel that hearing God's voice begins with knowing His Word. Impressions must be tested, God's leading will never contradict Scripture, and sometimes faith means being willing to wait rather than forcing an answer.
At the same time, something beautiful happens between Daniel and Rachel. Neither proposes. Neither tries to convince the other. They simply discover that God has already dealt with each of them separately.
They both know.
And another desire is beginning to grow in Daniel's heart. He doesn't want to simply attend church anymore.
He wants to serve.
Perhaps even with the guitar that has been in his hands for years.
Scripture for the Journey — John 10:27 (NKJV)
“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.”
The Light to Carry
God's leading is never permission to manipulate someone else. We learn His Word, listen to the Holy Spirit, test what we believe we're hearing, obey what He shows us—and trust Him enough to wait when we're unsure.
And when God calls us to serve, we don't have to have everything figured out first.
God doesn't call the equipped; He equips those He calls.
He calls. We listen. We follow. 🙏
Listen To Journey 12
In Christ
Journey 12 — Learning to Hear His Voice
Daniel was discovering that becoming a Christian hadn't answered all his questions.
It had given him new ones.
Before he gave his life to Jesus, Daniel hadn't spent much time wondering whether God was leading him.
He made decisions.
He weighed the options.
He tried to be sensible.
And when things worked out, he was thankful.
When they didn't, he adjusted.
But now?
Now Daniel believed God wasn't simply Someone watching his life from a distance.
God was involved.
God led.
God directed.
God spoke.
And that raised one very important question.
How did you know when it was Him?
. . .
Daniel sat at his kitchen table one evening with his Bible open.
Sadie was stretched across the floor beside him.
He had been reading the tenth chapter of John.
One verse kept pulling him back.
Daniel read it again.
“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.”
He stared at the page.
Then he looked at Sadie.
“Well, apparently Christians are supposed to hear God.”
Sadie lifted her head.
Daniel pointed toward the Bible.
“That's what it says.”
Sadie stared at him.
“The problem is . . . how do you know it's Him?”
Her head tilted slightly.
“Exactly.”
Daniel leaned back.
Then another memory came.
A convenience store.
His hand reaching toward the door.
And an impression so strong it had stopped him.
She's going to be your next wife.
Daniel had never forgotten it.
He had questioned it.
Wondered about it.
Tried not to get ahead of it.
But he had never forgotten it.
And now there was Rachel.
Her children.
The picnic.
Church.
His salvation.
The house.
Three bedrooms.
So much had happened since that moment.
Daniel looked down at the Bible again.
“Was that You?”
No answer came.
Daniel smiled slightly.
“Apparently we're doing this the slow way.”
Sadie's tail tapped the floor.
“Yeah. I'm beginning to notice that.”
. . .
Sunday morning Daniel arrived early.
He had been doing that more often.
Something about church had changed for him.
At first, he had gone because of Rachel.
Then he had gone because something there was drawing him.
Now he went because he wanted to worship Jesus.
That morning Daniel stood beside Rachel during worship.
His hands weren't buried in his pockets anymore.
He wasn't watching everyone else.
He sang.
He worshiped.
And occasionally he lifted a hand without wondering who might be looking.
Rachel noticed.
She didn't say anything.
She just smiled.
Daniel happened to glance toward the platform.
The guitar player was playing a simple progression Daniel knew.
His fingers moved almost unconsciously against his leg.
Rachel noticed that too.
“You know that one?”
Daniel leaned closer.
“Yeah.”
“You've played it?”
“Not that song. But I know what he's doing.”
Rachel smiled.
Daniel looked at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn't nothing.”
Rachel faced forward.
“Worship.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Yes, ma'am.”
. . .
After the service, Daniel waited until most people had moved toward the doors.
Pastor Nash was talking with someone near the front.
Daniel almost left.
Then he stopped.
Rachel was several feet away talking with another woman while Ethan and Lily waited nearby.
Daniel walked toward Pastor Nash.
“Pastor, can I ask you something?”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Of course.”
Daniel hesitated.
“How do you know when God is talking to you?”
Pastor Nash's smile changed.
Not amusement.
Interest.
“That's a good question.”
“I was afraid you'd say that.”
Pastor Nash laughed.
“Were you hoping for a three-step answer?”
“Two would be better.”
“I don't think I'm going to be much help then.”
Daniel smiled.
Pastor Nash motioned toward a couple of chairs.
“Sit down.”
They did.
Pastor Nash rested his Bible across his knee.
“Why are you asking?”
Daniel considered how much to say.
“I've had times when something came into my mind very strongly. Strong enough that I wondered if it was God.”
Pastor Nash nodded.
“And now that I'm actually following Jesus, I'm reading things about God leading us . . . the Holy Spirit leading us . . . Jesus saying His sheep hear His voice.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I just don't want to call every thought that comes into my head God.”
“Good.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Good?”
“That's a very good place to start.”
. . .
Pastor Nash opened his Bible.
“One of the most important things a new believer can learn is that God does lead His people.”
He paused.
“But we also have to learn how to test what we believe we're hearing.”
Daniel listened.
“The first safeguard is God's written Word.”
Pastor Nash held up his Bible.
“God will never lead you contrary to what He has already said here.”
Daniel nodded.
“So if I think God told me something that contradicts Scripture . . .”
“It wasn't God.”
“That one's pretty straightforward.”
“It should be.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“But you'd be surprised how often people want God to approve something He's already spoken about.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
Pastor Nash continued.
“The more you know God's Word, the better you'll recognize what agrees with His character.”
“So hearing God starts with reading the Bible?”
“That's a very good place to start.”
Daniel looked down at Pastor Nash's Bible.
Pastor Nash continued.
“Then there's the inward leading of the Holy Spirit. Sometimes there is a conviction. Sometimes a check inside. Sometimes a strong sense that you should or shouldn't do something.”
“Like an impression?”
“Yes.”
Daniel became very still.
“But an impression isn't automatically God.”
Daniel nodded.
“That was going to be my next question.”
“Test it.”
“How?”
“Does it agree with Scripture? Does it lead toward obedience to Christ? Does it produce something consistent with God's character? Is there wisdom in it? Does it remain when the emotion of the moment passes?”
Daniel listened carefully.
“And sometimes,” Pastor Nash continued, “you wait.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Wait?”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“That's one of God's favorite methods of teaching impatient people.”
Daniel laughed.
“I was hoping Christianity might cure that.”
“Oh, it will.”
Daniel brightened.
Pastor Nash added,
“Usually by making you wait.”
Daniel laughed again.
“That seems unfair.”
“It's remarkably effective.”
. . .
Pastor Nash became serious again.
“Daniel, there's another part of this that's important.”
“What?”
“Be careful with the words, ‘God told me.’”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“Why?”
“Because those words carry weight.”
Pastor Nash leaned forward.
“If you believe God has shown you something personally, you can hold it before Him. Pray about it. Test it. Wait for confirmation.”
“But especially when what you believe you've heard involves another person . . .”
Daniel's attention sharpened.
“. . . don't use your revelation to become their revelation.”
Daniel said nothing.
Pastor Nash continued.
“If a man walks up to a woman and says, ‘God told me you're supposed to marry me,’ what has he just done?”
Daniel stared at him.
Pastor Nash waited.
Finally Daniel answered.
“Put pressure on her.”
“Exactly.”
Daniel's eyes dropped.
Pastor Nash continued.
“If God truly spoke to him, God is perfectly capable of speaking to her.”
Daniel looked up.
Those words went straight through him.
God is perfectly capable of speaking to her.
Daniel thought about Rachel.
He thought about the convenience-store door.
She's going to be your next wife.
He thought about all the times he could have told her.
He never had.
Something inside him had always known that would be wrong.
Pastor Nash continued.
“God's leading isn't a tool we use to control people.”
Daniel nodded.
“If it's God, we don't have to manipulate the outcome.”
Daniel smiled faintly.
“That helps more than you know.”
Pastor Nash studied him for a moment.
“I suspected there might be more behind the question.”
Daniel laughed.
“There might be.”
“You don't have to tell me.”
“Thank you.”
“But whatever it is . . .”
Pastor Nash tapped the Bible.
“Keep it here.”
Then he touched his chest.
“Keep it before the Lord.”
“And give God room to confirm His own Word in His own way.”
Daniel nodded.
“I can do that.”
. . .
Rachel was waiting near the doors when Daniel joined her.
“What did you and Pastor Nash talk about?”
Daniel smiled.
“God.”
Rachel stared at him.
“That's surprisingly vague.”
“I worked hard on it.”
She laughed.
They walked outside.
Ethan and Lily moved ahead of them.
For several moments neither Daniel nor Rachel spoke.
Then Daniel said,
“I've been thinking about the house.”
Rachel looked at him.
“Good thoughts or bad thoughts?”
“Good.”
He watched Ethan and Lily walking ahead.
“If everything goes through, I'll probably be moving pretty soon.”
“Probably.”
Daniel nodded.
Another few steps.
“And then I suppose we'll need to start figuring some other things out.”
Rachel looked at him.
“Other things?”
Daniel glanced at her.
“You know.”
“No, Daniel. I apparently don't.”
He smiled.
“Us.”
Rachel became quiet.
Daniel suddenly wondered if he had just stepped into something much bigger than he intended.
He tried again.
“I mean . . . eventually we're going to have to figure out when we're doing this.”
Rachel stopped walking.
Daniel took two more steps before realizing she wasn't beside him.
He turned.
Rachel was staring at him.
“What?”
She blinked.
“Doing what?”
Daniel looked at her.
Then he realized.
“Oh.”
Rachel's mouth began to curve into a smile.
Daniel rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well . . . getting married.”
Rachel's smile grew.
Daniel stared at her.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Rachel.”
She started walking again.
Daniel caught up.
“Did I miss something?”
Rachel laughed.
“I don't know.”
“You're the one laughing.”
She looked at him.
“Did you just tell me we're getting married?”
Daniel thought about it.
“I don't think so.”
“You sounded pretty sure.”
“I am pretty sure.”
Rachel's laughter faded into something softer.
“So am I.”
Daniel stopped.
This time Rachel took the extra steps.
She turned back.
Daniel looked at her.
“You are?”
Rachel smiled.
“Yes.”
Daniel stood there for a moment.
Then he started laughing.
Rachel laughed too.
“What?”
“I don't know.”
He caught up with her.
“I guess I thought at some point we'd have some big conversation about whether we were getting married.”
Rachel nodded.
“So did I.”
“Apparently we skipped that part.”
“Apparently.”
Daniel looked at her.
“When did we decide?”
Rachel thought.
“I don't know.”
“That's helpful.”
“When did you decide?”
Daniel immediately remembered the convenience store.
But he wasn't going there.
Not yet.
Instead he said,
“I don't know if there was one moment.”
Rachel understood more than Daniel realized.
Neither had convinced the other.
Neither had asked the other for an answer.
God had dealt with both of them separately.
And somewhere along the way, the question had quietly changed.
It was no longer if.
It was when.
Daniel smiled.
“So . . . we're getting married.”
Rachel smiled back.
“Looks that way.”
“And neither one of us proposed.”
“No..”
“That'll make an interesting story someday.”
Rachel laughed.
“You have no idea.”
. . .
A few minutes later they reached the parking lot.
Ethan and Lily were waiting beside Rachel's vehicle.
Lily looked at them suspiciously.
“Why are you both smiling?”
Rachel answered quickly.
“No reason.”
Lily looked at Daniel.
He shrugged.
“Your mother says there's no reason.”
Lily looked between them.
“I don't believe you.”
Daniel nodded.
“She's very perceptive.”
Rachel opened the vehicle door.
“Get in.”
. . .
Daniel started toward his truck.
Then something caught his attention.
The worship-team guitarist was carrying equipment toward a side door.
Daniel watched him.
Rachel noticed.
“You keep doing that.”
Daniel turned.
“Doing what?”
“Watching the worship team.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
Daniel looked toward the guitarist again.
Rachel smiled.
“There. You just did it again.”
Daniel laughed.
“I play guitar.”
“I know.”
“I've just been thinking.”
Rachel waited.
Daniel looked toward the church.
“I don't want to just come here.”
Rachel's expression changed.
Daniel continued.
“I mean, I want to come. But I don't want Christianity to be something I consume.”
Rachel listened.
“I want to do something.”
“Serve?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel looked toward the building again.
“I don't even know what.”
Rachel smiled.
“You could ask.”
Daniel glanced at her.
“Pastor Nash?”
“That's usually a good place to start.”
Daniel nodded.
Then he looked toward the guitarist again.
“I'm a brand-new Christian.”
“So?”
“What do I know about being on a worship team?”
Rachel shrugged.
“Maybe nothing.”
Daniel laughed.
“Thank you for the encouragement.”
“I mean maybe that's not the important question.”
“What is?”
Rachel thought for a moment.
“Maybe the question is whether God's putting the desire in you to serve.”
Daniel became quiet.
Rachel continued.
“If He is, He'll show you where.”
Daniel nodded.
Then he smiled.
“And if it's not the worship team?”
“Then serve somewhere else.”
“That simple?”
“Why wouldn't it be?”
Daniel looked back toward the church.
He was beginning to understand.
Serving God wasn't about getting a position.
It wasn't about standing on a platform.
It was about becoming available.
. . .
The following Sunday Daniel found Pastor Nash again.
“I have another question.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“I'm beginning to regret encouraging you to read your Bible.”
Daniel laughed.
“This one's easier.”
“Good.”
“I want to serve.”
Pastor Nash's expression immediately became serious.
“Good.”
“I don't know where.”
“That's okay.”
Daniel hesitated.
“I play guitar.”
Pastor Nash looked toward the sanctuary.
“I see.”
“I noticed the worship team.”
“I suspected you might have.”
Daniel smiled.
“Rachel says I'm obvious.”
“Rachel is correct.”
Daniel sighed.
“Everybody's very encouraging around here.”
Pastor Nash laughed.
Then Daniel became serious.
“I don't know if I'm ready for something like that.”
Pastor Nash nodded.
“That may be true.”
Daniel looked surprised.
Pastor Nash continued.
“But don't confuse being inexperienced with being unusable.”
Daniel listened.
“There's a saying you've probably heard. God doesn't call the equipped; He equips those He calls.”
Daniel nodded.
“I've heard it.”
“There's truth in it.”
Pastor Nash opened his Bible.
“Hebrews tells us that God makes us complete in every good work to do His will.”
He looked at Daniel.
“God can teach you what you don't know.”
Daniel nodded.
“He can develop what He's already placed in you.”
Pastor Nash glanced toward the platform.
“And sometimes He takes something you've been doing for years and shows you why He allowed you to learn it.”
Daniel followed his eyes toward the guitar.
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Maybe God wasn't just teaching you to play guitar all those years.”
Daniel looked back at him.
“Maybe He was preparing something you didn't know you'd need yet.”
Daniel said nothing for a moment.
That thought reached somewhere deep.
Then Pastor Nash added,
“But let's get something straight.”
Daniel smiled.
“Here it comes.”
“Serving isn't about getting on that platform.”
“I know.”
“Good. Because if you want to serve God, you should be willing to serve where nobody applauds.”
Daniel nodded.
“If chairs need moved, move chairs.”
“Okay.”
“If somebody needs help, help them.”
“Okay.”
“If we need someone to clean something, don't suddenly develop a revelation that you're called exclusively to guitar.”
Daniel laughed.
“That's very specific.”
“I've been a pastor a while.”
Daniel smiled.
Pastor Nash continued.
“Make yourself available. Let God develop your character along with your ability.”
“And the worship team?”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Bring your guitar sometime.”
Daniel blinked.
“That's it?”
“For now.”
“You're not going to put me on the platform?”
“No..”
Daniel laughed.
“Good.”
Pastor Nash raised an eyebrow.
“Good?”
“I was hoping you'd say that.”
“Why?”
“Because I'm not sure I'm ready.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Then perhaps you're more ready to learn than you think.”
. . .
That evening Daniel sat in his apartment holding his guitar.
Sadie lay nearby.
He played quietly.
Nothing complicated.
Just chords.
But his thoughts were somewhere else.
For years the guitar had simply been something he enjoyed.
Now Daniel wondered whether God had known all along that someday those same hands might use it for something more.
He stopped playing.
“Lord . . .”
Daniel looked down at the guitar.
“I don't know if this is what You're calling me to do.”
He smiled.
“But I'm listening.”
Sadie's tail tapped.
Daniel looked at her.
“And apparently I'm available for chairs too.”
Tap.
“Don't laugh.”
. . .
Daniel thought again about what Pastor Nash had taught him.
God speaks through His Word.
The Holy Spirit leads.
Impressions should be tested.
Feelings weren't enough.
God's leading would never contradict His Word.
And sometimes . . .
you waited.
Daniel thought about Rachel.
God is perfectly capable of speaking to her.
He smiled.
He had no idea that God already had.
Three times before Daniel ever walked through that convenience-store door, Rachel had heard God's assurance that He would give her a husband.
And later, when her doubts about Daniel had risen one by one, God had dealt with every one of them.
But God!
Daniel didn't know that.
Rachel didn't know what Daniel had experienced outside the convenience store.
Neither knew the other's story.
Not yet.
But they both knew where God was leading them.
And somehow . . .
that was enough.
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
John, chapter ten, verse twenty-seven.
“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me.”
. . .
The Light to Carry
Learning to hear God's voice isn't about chasing signs, feelings, or mysterious experiences.
It begins with knowing Him.
And one of the safest ways to recognize His leading is to know His Word.
God will never lead us contrary to what He has already spoken in Scripture.
The Holy Spirit leads.
He convicts.
He gives wisdom.
At times there may be an inward impression or a strong sense of direction.
But God's children don't have to accept every thought as God's voice.
We can test what we believe we're hearing.
Does it agree with Scripture?
Does it lead us toward Jesus?
Does it produce obedience?
Does it agree with God's character?
And sometimes . . .
we wait.
Daniel also learned something important about hearing God concerning other people.
God's leading is never permission to manipulate someone else.
If God has truly spoken, He is perfectly capable of confirming His direction without our forcing the outcome.
Daniel never had to convince Rachel.
Rachel never had to convince Daniel.
God dealt with each of them separately.
And when the time came, neither one proposed.
Neither one asked the other whether marriage was God's will.
They simply discovered that somewhere along the journey . . .
they both knew.
Daniel was also beginning to hear another call.
Serve.
He didn't know yet whether that would mean a worship team, moving chairs, helping behind the scenes, or something he hadn't imagined.
But he was learning that God doesn't need us to arrive already equipped for everything He may ask us to do.
God equips those He calls.
Our part is to become available.
To know His Word.
To listen.
To test.
To obey.
And when we aren't sure . . .
to trust Him enough to wait.
Because the Shepherd who calls His sheep by name also knows exactly where He is leading them.
In Christ.
Journey Twelve.
Learning to Hear His Voice.
In Christ — Journey 13
Faithful in the Little Things
Sometimes God's preparation begins in places nobody notices.
Daniel wanted to serve. After watching the worship team and telling Pastor Nash that he played guitar, he probably imagined his next step might involve music.
Instead, Pastor Nash handed Daniel and Rachel an opportunity to serve by cleaning the church.
Vacuuming floors. Emptying trash. Cleaning bathrooms. Showing up whenever the doors were open.
But while Daniel was taking care of God's house, God was working on Daniel.
Being at church so often gives him something he has never experienced before—time under the Word. Daniel begins hearing Scripture taught as something to live, not merely something to know.
And Pastor Nash is watching.
He sees Daniel and Rachel's faithfulness when nobody is applauding. Eventually, another door begins to open. Daniel brings his guitar, Rachel discovers there may be a place for the voice she never thought was good enough, and a Wednesday service may become their first opportunity to help lead others in worship.
For Daniel, playing suddenly feels different.
He's no longer playing for himself. He's playing for the Lord.
And that realization is enough to make his hands shake.
Scripture for the Journey
Luke 16:10 (NKJV)
“He who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much.”
The Light to Carry
Don't despise the little assignment.
Serving when nobody sees, showing up faithfully, and doing ordinary things unto the Lord may be exactly where God is preparing us for what comes next.
God doesn't call the equipped. He equips those He calls.
Sometimes He begins with a guitar.
And sometimes He begins with a mop.
Listen To Journey 13
In Christ
Journey 13 — Faithful in the Little Things
Daniel had discovered something about following Jesus.
Sometimes the next thing God asked you to do looked nothing like the thing you thought He might be preparing you for.
Daniel had been watching the worship team.
He had talked with Pastor Nash.
He had admitted that he wanted to serve.
He had even mentioned that he played guitar.
And Pastor Nash had told him to bring it sometime.
So somewhere in the back of Daniel's mind, he had begun wondering what might happen next.
Maybe Pastor Nash would ask him to play.
Maybe he'd sit in on a practice.
Maybe someone would want to hear what he could do.
Instead, Pastor Nash asked him to clean toilets.
. . .
It happened after a Sunday morning service.
Daniel and Rachel were still visiting near the sanctuary when Pastor Nash walked toward them.
“Daniel. Rachel. Do you have a minute?”
Daniel smiled.
“Sure.”
Pastor Nash looked from one to the other.
“I've got something I want to ask you about.”
Daniel's mind immediately went to the guitar.
He tried not to show it.
Pastor Nash continued.
“We've been needing some dependable help keeping the church cleaned.”
Daniel waited.
“We've had people helping here and there, but what we really need is someone who can take responsibility for it for a while.”
Daniel blinked.
“Cleaning?”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Cleaning.”
Rachel looked at Daniel.
Daniel looked at Rachel.
Then back at Pastor Nash.
“You mean like vacuuming?”
“Vacuuming.”
“Trash?”
“Trash.”
“Bathrooms?”
Pastor Nash's smile grew.
“Especially bathrooms.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“So when you said God equips those He calls . . .”
Rachel covered a laugh.
Pastor Nash grinned.
“I was wondering whether you'd remember that.”
Daniel laughed.
“Apparently He equips with a mop.”
“Sometimes.”
Rachel smiled.
“What would you need us to do?”
Pastor Nash explained.
It wasn't complicated.
Vacuum the sanctuary and classrooms.
Empty the trash.
Clean the bathrooms.
Straighten things after services.
Make sure the church was ready whenever the doors opened.
Daniel looked around the sanctuary.
It wasn't what he had imagined when he'd said he wanted to serve.
But that was exactly why something inside him knew his answer.
“When do we start?”
. . .
It became part of their lives almost immediately.
Sunday morning.
Sunday evening when something was scheduled.
Wednesday night.
Special meetings.
Bible studies.
If the church doors were going to open, Daniel and Rachel were usually there sometime before they did.
Sometimes together.
Sometimes Daniel arrived first.
Sometimes Rachel came after work.
Sometimes Ethan and Lily came with her and did homework at a table while Daniel vacuumed.
Lily once watched Daniel pushing the vacuum down the hallway.
“You missed a spot.”
Daniel stopped.
He looked behind him.
“Where?”
Lily pointed.
Daniel stared at the floor.
“I don't see anything.”
“I do.”
Daniel looked at Rachel.
“Is she management?”
Rachel didn't look up from what she was doing.
“She thinks she is.”
Lily smiled.
Daniel pushed the vacuum over the imaginary spot.
“There.”
Lily inspected it.
“Better.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I'm being supervised by a six-year-old.”
Ethan looked up from his homework.
“She does that.”
. . .
But something was happening that Daniel hadn't expected.
He was at church all the time.
Not just for Sunday morning.
He was there Wednesday night.
He was there when a Bible study met.
He was there when Pastor Nash taught a smaller group.
Sometimes Daniel would finish cleaning and sit in the back.
At first, he simply listened.
Then he started bringing his Bible.
Then a notebook.
For almost twenty-five years Daniel had known about Christianity.
He had heard sermons.
He knew Bible stories.
He knew religious words.
But this was different.
Pastor Nash taught as though the Word of God was something you could actually live.
Something that belonged on Monday morning as much as Sunday morning.
Daniel heard teaching about righteousness.
Faith.
Authority in Christ.
Prayer.
The Holy Spirit.
Renewing the mind.
Walking by faith.
Being a doer of the Word instead of a hearer only.
Sometimes Daniel would sit in the back of the sanctuary after everyone had left, his Bible still open.
“How did I miss this?”
There wasn't condemnation in the question anymore.
There was hunger.
He wanted to know.
. . .
One Wednesday evening Pastor Nash was teaching from the book of James.
“But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.”
Daniel underlined it.
Pastor Nash looked around the room.
“God didn't give us His Word simply so we could agree with it.”
Daniel looked up.
“He gave us His Word so we could live it.”
Daniel wrote that down.
Pastor Nash continued.
“It's possible to sit in church for years, hear truth, even agree that it's truth . . . and never allow that truth to change how we live.”
Daniel stopped writing.
That had been him.
Twenty-five years.
He had known things about God.
But knowing information had never changed him.
Jesus had.
Pastor Nash continued.
“When God's Word shows us something, our response should be, ‘Lord, how do I walk this out?’”
Daniel looked at the verse again.
Be doers of the word.
He smiled.
Apparently even cleaning the church could be part of doing.
. . .
Weeks passed.
Daniel and Rachel kept showing up.
Nobody applauded when the bathrooms were clean.
Nobody congratulated them because the trash had been emptied.
Most people probably never thought about who vacuumed the sanctuary.
And Daniel discovered that he liked it that way.
There was something freeing about doing something for God that nobody noticed.
One evening he was carrying a trash bag toward the dumpster when Pastor Nash came out the side door.
“You're here a lot.”
Daniel held up the bag.
“You keep making messes.”
Pastor Nash laughed.
“I mean it.”
Daniel shrugged.
“We said we'd take care of it.”
“You have.”
Pastor Nash watched him for a moment.
“Every time.”
Daniel didn't know what to say.
“So?”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“So nothing.”
Daniel narrowed his eyes.
“I don't trust pastors when they say ‘so nothing.’”
“Probably wise.”
Pastor Nash went back inside.
Daniel shook his head.
. . .
What Daniel didn't realize was that Pastor Nash had been watching.
Not spying.
Watching.
He saw Daniel arrive when he said he would.
He saw Rachel work beside him.
He saw them stay late.
He saw Daniel sitting in the back with his Bible open after the cleaning was finished.
He saw the questions Daniel asked.
He saw that Daniel wasn't looking for a title.
He wasn't pushing about the worship team.
In fact, after that first conversation, Daniel rarely mentioned it.
He simply served.
And while Daniel thought he was learning how to take care of a church building, Pastor Nash knew something else was happening.
Daniel was learning faithfulness.
. . .
One evening Daniel brought his guitar.
Pastor Nash had told him to.
But nothing happened.
Daniel carried it into the church.
Set it beside a wall.
Cleaned.
Listened to the teaching.
Then carried it home.
The next week, he brought it again.
Still nothing.
Rachel noticed.
“Aren't you going to ask him?”
Daniel knew exactly what she meant.
“No..”
“Why not?”
“He told me to bring it.”
“So?”
“So I brought it.”
Rachel smiled.
“And?”
“And if he wants me to play it, he'll ask.”
Rachel studied him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Daniel pointed at her.
“You've been doing that since we met.”
“Doing what?”
“Saying ‘nothing’ when it's definitely something.”
Rachel laughed.
Daniel picked up the guitar case.
“If God's in this, I don't have to push the door open.”
Rachel's smile softened.
“No. You don't.”
. . .
A few weeks later, Pastor Nash caught Daniel after a Wednesday service.
“Got your guitar?”
Daniel looked toward the wall.
“Yeah.”
“Bring it in here.”
Daniel followed him into the sanctuary.
The room was mostly empty.
Rachel was finishing something down the hallway.
Pastor Nash walked toward the platform.
“Plug in.”
Daniel stopped.
“Now?”
Pastor Nash looked at him.
“You did want to play, didn't you?”
“Well . . . yeah.”
“Then plug in.”
Daniel climbed onto the platform.
For some reason it felt completely different from playing at home.
His hands suddenly felt too large.
He plugged the guitar in.
Pastor Nash stood several feet away.
“Play something.”
Daniel looked at him.
“That's a very broad request.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Play something you'd worship with.”
Daniel looked down at the guitar.
That changed the question.
He played a simple chord progression.
Then another.
Nothing flashy.
Pastor Nash listened.
Daniel played a little longer.
Then stopped.
Pastor Nash nodded.
“You can play.”
Daniel laughed.
“I told you I could.”
“People tell pastors lots of things.”
Daniel smiled.
“Fair enough.”
Pastor Nash walked closer.
“Can you sing?”
Daniel hesitated.
“A little.”
“Sing.”
Daniel stared at him.
“You really like putting people on the spot.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Daniel took a breath.
Then he began again.
A simple worship chorus.
Nothing difficult.
Just Daniel, his guitar, and an almost empty sanctuary.
But halfway through, something happened.
Daniel became aware of what he was singing.
Not just the notes.
Not just the chords.
Jesus.
He was singing to Jesus.
The same Jesus he had spent years knowing about.
The same Jesus who had met him only weeks earlier when he finally surrendered his life.
Daniel's fingers trembled slightly.
He stopped.
Pastor Nash noticed.
“What happened?”
Daniel looked down at his hands.
“I don't know.”
Pastor Nash waited.
Daniel swallowed.
“I've played in front of people before.”
“Okay.”
“But that felt different.”
“How?”
Daniel searched for the words.
“I wasn't playing for me.”
Pastor Nash said nothing.
Daniel looked toward the empty sanctuary.
“I wasn't even really playing for you.”
A quiet smile appeared on Pastor Nash's face.
Daniel looked back at the guitar.
“I was playing for the Lord.”
His voice softened.
“And suddenly that felt . . . bigger.”
Pastor Nash nodded.
“It is.”
Daniel flexed his fingers.
“I actually got shaky.”
“That isn't necessarily a bad thing.”
“It isn't?”
“No..”
Pastor Nash walked closer.
“There's a difference between performing music and leading worship.”
Daniel listened.
“A performer can be concerned about whether people are impressed.”
Pastor Nash pointed toward the sanctuary.
“A worship leader has a different responsibility.”
“To worship God?”
“First.”
Pastor Nash nodded.
“And then to help lead God's people toward Him.”
Daniel looked across the empty chairs.
That responsibility suddenly felt enormous.
“I don't know if I'm ready for that.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“We've already had this conversation.”
Daniel laughed.
“God equips those He calls.”
“Exactly.”
“But He hasn't called me yet.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“I didn't say that.”
Daniel looked at him.
. . .
Rachel walked into the sanctuary.
She stopped when she saw Daniel on the platform with his guitar.
“Well.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Don't.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were about to.”
Rachel smiled.
Pastor Nash looked at her.
“Do you sing?”
Rachel's smile disappeared.
“A little.”
Daniel laughed.
Rachel looked at him.
“That wasn't funny.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Come up here.”
Rachel shook her head.
“Oh, no.”
Daniel's eyebrows rose.
“God equips those He calls.”
Rachel pointed at him.
“You've been a Christian for five minutes. Don't preach at me.”
Daniel laughed.
Pastor Nash laughed too.
Rachel reluctantly walked toward the platform.
“I've always wanted to sing with a worship team.”
Daniel looked surprised.
“You have?”
Rachel nodded.
“I just never thought I'd have time. And I never thought my voice was good enough.”
Pastor Nash looked at both of them.
“Interesting.”
Rachel immediately answered.
“Don't make that pastor face.”
Daniel laughed.
“What's the pastor face?”
“The one where he knows something he's not telling you.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Rachel looked at Daniel.
“That's the face.”
. . .
Pastor Nash didn't put either of them on the worship team that night.
There was no announcement.
No title.
No sudden promotion.
He simply spent some time listening.
Daniel played.
Rachel sang quietly beside him.
At first she was hesitant.
Then a little stronger.
Daniel found a key that fit her voice.
Rachel looked at him.
“That feels better.”
Daniel nodded.
“Stay there.”
They tried again.
This time something began to happen.
Their voices weren't perfect.
Daniel wasn't an experienced worship leader.
Rachel wasn't a trained singer.
But Pastor Nash wasn't only listening for perfection.
He was watching their hearts.
Two people who had spent weeks cleaning bathrooms.
Vacuuming floors.
Emptying trash.
Showing up when nobody was watching.
Now they stood together on a nearly empty platform singing to Jesus.
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Wednesday nights.”
Daniel stopped playing.
“What about them?”
“I've been thinking about letting you lead a couple songs some Wednesday night.”
Daniel stared at him.
Rachel stared at Daniel.
Daniel finally spoke.
“Me?”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“You're holding the guitar.”
Daniel looked down.
“Right.”
“Nothing complicated.”
Pastor Nash continued.
“A couple songs. I'll work with you. We'll take our time.”
Daniel looked toward Rachel.
She looked every bit as surprised as he felt.
Pastor Nash added,
“And Rachel can sing with you.”
Rachel's eyes widened.
“Wait.”
Daniel smiled.
“You're already on the platform.”
“That is not consent.”
Daniel laughed.
Pastor Nash smiled.
“You don't have to decide tonight.”
Rachel looked down.
Then toward Daniel.
Then across the sanctuary.
Something she had quietly wanted for years suddenly didn't seem impossible anymore.
“I'll pray about it.”
Pastor Nash nodded.
“That's all I'm asking.”
Daniel looked at him.
“And me?”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“You already asked.”
Daniel laughed.
“Right.”
. . .
That night Daniel drove home with his guitar in the truck.
He thought about the last several weeks.
He had asked God where he could serve.
And God had given him a vacuum cleaner.
A mop.
Trash bags.
Bathrooms.
Wednesday nights.
Bible studies.
And somewhere in the middle of all those ordinary things, God had been doing something extraordinary.
He had been teaching Daniel His Word.
Teaching him faithfulness.
Teaching him to serve when nobody noticed.
And now . . .
perhaps preparing him to lead.
Daniel smiled.
“Lord . . .”
He shook his head.
“I thought You were taking me toward a guitar.”
He laughed quietly.
“You took me through the janitor's closet.”
Then Daniel understood.
Maybe the janitor's closet hadn't been a detour at all.
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
Luke, chapter sixteen, verse ten.
“He who is faithful in what is least is faithful also in much.”
. . .
The Light to Carry
We often imagine God's calling beginning with something important.
A platform.
A position.
A ministry.
Something people can see.
But God's preparation often begins somewhere much quieter.
With showing up.
Keeping our word.
Serving when nobody notices.
Doing the small thing in front of us as unto the Lord.
Daniel wanted to serve God.
He thought perhaps that meant a guitar.
Instead, his first assignment involved a vacuum cleaner, trash bags, and bathrooms.
But while Daniel was taking care of God's house, God was working on Daniel.
He was hearing the Word.
Growing in truth.
Learning faithfulness.
And discovering that no service offered to God is insignificant.
Jesus said that the person who is faithful in what is least can also be trusted with much.
The little things matter.
And when God eventually opened another door, Daniel discovered something else.
Playing music and leading worship were not the same thing.
One could be about music.
The other was about ministry.
For the first time, Daniel felt the weight of using what God had given him not for himself . . .
but for the Lord.
And Rachel discovered that something she had quietly desired for years might have a place in God's plan too.
Neither Daniel nor Rachel was completely equipped for what might be ahead.
But perhaps that wasn't the point.
God doesn't call the equipped. He equips those He calls.
Sometimes He does that through teaching.
Sometimes through people.
Sometimes through practice.
And sometimes . . .
He begins with a mop.
So don't despise the little assignment.
Don't overlook the place nobody sees.
Don't assume you're waiting for God to begin using you.
If you're serving Him faithfully where you are . . .
He may already be preparing you for where you're going.
In Christ.
Journey Thirteen.
Faithful in the Little Things.
In Christ — Journey 14
Practicing His Presence
God is not only present on Sunday morning. He is with us in every moment of every day.
Daniel and Rachel are preparing for the possibility of leading worship on a Wednesday night. Daniel knows how to practice his guitar, and Rachel can practice her singing—but Pastor Nash teaches them that their most important preparation has nothing to do with music.
Practice the presence of God.
God's presence isn't something they have to manufacture when they step onto a platform. The Holy Spirit already dwells within the believer. The lesson is learning to recognize Him, acknowledge Him, talk with Him, listen to Him, and turn their attention toward Him throughout ordinary life.
Daniel begins discovering that worship doesn't start when he picks up his guitar. It can happen while driving to work, handling a difficult situation, reading God's Word—or even vacuuming an empty sanctuary.
And Rachel begins to understand that worship isn't an audition for God's approval. God isn't asking whether her voice is good enough for everyone else.
He wants her heart.
Scripture for the Journey
Psalm 16:8 (NKJV)
“I have set the LORD always before me; Because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved.”
The Light to Carry
The platform doesn't create a worshiper.
The worshiper brings to the platform what has already been growing in private.
Practicing His presence isn't trying to make God appear. It's learning to live every day aware of the One who has promised never to leave us.
Talk with Him. Listen. Thank Him. Obey Him. Worship Him.
And when your attention wanders . . . turn it back toward Him.
The greatest preparation for worship isn't learning how to perform in God's presence.
It's learning how to live in His presence.
Listen To Journey 14
In Christ
Journey 14 — Practicing His Presence
Daniel had begun to realize that every answer seemed to create another question.
He had wanted to serve.
Pastor Nash had given him a mop.
He had wanted to learn.
God had surrounded him with His Word.
He had wondered whether his guitar might someday have a place in ministry.
Now Pastor Nash was talking about letting Daniel and Rachel lead a couple of songs on a Wednesday night.
And Daniel had discovered his newest question.
How exactly did someone prepare for that?
. . .
Daniel sat at home with his guitar across his lap.
Sadie lay on the floor nearby.
A notebook sat open on the coffee table.
Daniel played through the first song.
Stopped.
Started again.
Changed a chord.
Played the transition.
Stopped again.
“No..”
Sadie raised her head.
“That was terrible.”
Sadie stared at him.
“Thank you for your support.”
Daniel started again.
This time he made it through the entire song.
Then the second.
He looked at his notebook.
Two songs.
That was all Pastor Nash had suggested.
Two simple worship songs on a Wednesday night.
Daniel had played guitar for years.
This shouldn't be difficult.
But it was.
Not musically.
Something else was bothering him.
He remembered standing in the empty sanctuary with Pastor Nash.
The moment when his hands had started shaking.
I wasn't playing for me.
I was playing for the Lord.
Daniel looked down at his guitar.
“How do you practice for that?”
Sadie lowered her head back to the floor.
Apparently she didn't know either.
. . .
Rachel wasn't doing much better.
A couple evenings later, Daniel stopped by after work.
Ethan was doing homework.
Lily was coloring at the kitchen table.
Rachel was standing at the sink.
She had been singing quietly until Daniel walked through the door.
Then she stopped.
Daniel smiled.
“Why'd you stop?”
Rachel turned.
“Stop what?”
“Singing.”
“I wasn't singing.”
Lily looked up.
“Yes, you were.”
Rachel looked at her daughter.
“Thank you, Lily.”
“You were.”
Daniel grinned.
“I have a witness.”
Rachel pointed toward the living room.
“Go sit down.”
Daniel laughed.
“Yes, ma'am.”
A few minutes later Rachel joined him.
Daniel looked at her.
“You nervous?”
“No..”
Daniel waited.
Rachel sighed.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Rachel stared at him.
“Good?”
“I'm nervous too.”
“That doesn't make me feel better.”
“It makes me feel better.”
Rachel laughed.
Daniel leaned back.
“I've been practicing.”
“So have I.”
“How's it going?”
Rachel gave him a look.
“That well?”
“I've always wanted to sing with a worship team.”
“I know.”
“It's different when someone actually says you can.”
Daniel nodded.
Rachel continued.
“What if my voice isn't good enough?”
Daniel was quiet for a moment.
Then smiled.
“I think that's one of the things we're supposed to learn.”
“What?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
Rachel laughed.
“Very helpful.”
“That's why we have Pastor Nash.”
. . .
The following Wednesday they arrived early.
They cleaned first.
That part had become routine.
Daniel vacuumed the sanctuary.
Rachel straightened classrooms and emptied trash.
Ethan and Lily worked at a table.
Afterward Daniel brought his guitar into the sanctuary.
Pastor Nash was near the front looking through some notes.
Daniel walked toward him.
“Can I ask you something?”
Pastor Nash looked up.
“Sure.”
“How do you prepare to lead worship?”
Pastor Nash glanced at the guitar.
“Practice.”
Daniel frowned.
“That's it?”
“No..”
Daniel smiled.
“I thought that sounded too easy.”
Pastor Nash closed his Bible.
“Your music needs preparation. You should know your songs. Know your chords. Know your keys. If you're leading other people, you should prepare well enough that you're not spending the whole time wondering where your fingers go next.”
Daniel nodded.
“That's what I've been doing.”
“Good.”
Pastor Nash paused.
“But there's something more important.”
Rachel had walked into the sanctuary and heard the last part.
“What?”
Pastor Nash looked at both of them.
“Practice the presence of God.”
Daniel's eyebrows rose.
“How do you practice God's presence?”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“That's a good question.”
. . .
The three of them sat in the first few rows of the sanctuary.
Daniel placed his guitar beside him.
Pastor Nash opened his Bible.
“First, we need to understand what we mean.”
He looked at Daniel.
“When you were born again, did the Holy Spirit come to live in you?”
“Yes.”
“So when you drive to work tomorrow morning, will God be with you?”
“Yes.”
“When you're cleaning this church?”
“Yes.”
“When you're sitting at home?”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
Pastor Nash looked at Rachel.
“When you're working?”
“Yes.”
“When you're taking care of Ethan and Lily?”
“Of course.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Then practicing the presence of God isn't trying to convince God to come where you are.”
Daniel leaned forward slightly.
Pastor Nash continued.
“For the believer, it's learning to recognize, acknowledge, and respond to the One who is already with you.”
Daniel thought about that.
“So I'm not trying to get into His presence?”
“Not in the sense that God has been somewhere else and you're trying to bring Him into the room.”
Pastor Nash opened his Bible.
“Listen to this.”
He turned to Psalm sixteen.
“David said, ‘I have set the LORD always before me; because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved.’”
Pastor Nash looked up.
“Notice the words, ‘I have set the LORD always before me.’”
Rachel nodded slowly.
“His attention.”
“Exactly.”
Pastor Nash tapped the page.
“David was deliberately turning his heart and attention toward God.”
Daniel looked around the sanctuary.
“So when we say we're practicing His presence . . .”
“We're practicing awareness of Him.”
. . .
Pastor Nash leaned back.
“You can do that anywhere.”
“In church?”
“Certainly. But if church is the only place you do it, you're missing most of your life.”
Daniel smiled.
Pastor Nash continued.
“You can acknowledge Him while you're driving.”
“Lord, thank You for this day.”
“You can talk with Him while you're working.”
“Father, help me handle this correctly.”
“You can thank Him when something goes well.”
“You can turn to Him when something goes wrong.”
“You can worship without music.”
“You can stop for thirty seconds in the middle of a busy day and simply remember . . . God is with me.”
Rachel smiled.
“I do that sometimes.”
Pastor Nash nodded.
“I expect you do.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You never told me that.”
Rachel shrugged.
“I didn't know it had a name.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Most people who walk with God learn things before they learn what somebody else calls them.”
Daniel nodded.
“That seems to happen to me a lot.”
. . .
Pastor Nash looked toward the platform.
“Here's why this matters for what you're about to do.”
Daniel followed his eyes.
“If you only become conscious of God when the first song starts, you'll always be tempted to manufacture something on the platform that you haven't been living off the platform.”
Daniel became still.
Pastor Nash continued.
“You cannot manufacture God's presence.”
Rachel nodded.
“And you don't have to.”
“Exactly.”
Pastor Nash looked at Daniel.
“You aren't responsible for making God show up Wednesday night.”
Daniel smiled.
“That takes some pressure off.”
“It should.”
“Then what am I responsible for?”
“Being prepared.”
Daniel waited.
“Musically?”
“Yes. But also spiritually.”
Pastor Nash pointed gently toward Daniel's heart.
“Walk with Him.”
“Know His Word.”
“Talk with Him.”
“Listen.”
“Obey.”
“Thank Him.”
“Worship Him when nobody is watching.”
Then Pastor Nash smiled.
“And practice your chords.”
Daniel laughed.
“I knew there was a catch.”
. . .
Rachel had been quiet.
Finally she spoke.
“What about someone who doesn't think her voice is good enough?”
Daniel looked at her.
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Do you mean hypothetically?”
Rachel gave him a look.
“Of course.”
“Then hypothetically, I would ask her who she is singing to.”
Rachel looked toward the platform.
“God.”
“Then start there.”
Pastor Nash continued.
“Skill matters. We should give God our best. We should grow. We should practice. We shouldn't use spirituality as an excuse for being unprepared.”
Daniel nodded.
“But worship isn't an audition for God's approval.”
Rachel looked back at him.
Pastor Nash continued.
“God isn't waiting for you to hit the perfect note before He decides whether your worship is acceptable.”
Rachel's expression softened.
“He wants your heart.”
Pastor Nash nodded.
“He wants you.”
. . .
Daniel picked up his guitar.
“So worship practice isn't just practicing the songs.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“No.. The songs are probably the easiest part.”
Daniel laughed.
“I was afraid you were going to say that.”
Pastor Nash stood.
“Let me show you something else.”
He walked toward the platform.
Daniel and Rachel followed.
Pastor Nash stopped before climbing the steps.
“Where were you two an hour ago?”
Daniel pointed toward the hallway.
“Cleaning.”
“What were you doing?”
“Vacuuming.”
Rachel answered,
“I was cleaning classrooms.”
Pastor Nash nodded.
“Were you serving God?”
Daniel answered immediately.
“Yes.”
“Then why would you think worship began when you picked up your guitar?”
Daniel stared at him.
Pastor Nash let the question sit.
Rachel understood first.
“The cleaning can be worship.”
“Absolutely.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men.”
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
The same hallway he'd vacuumed dozens of times.
The same trash cans.
The same bathrooms.
The same ordinary work.
Something clicked.
“The janitor's closet.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“What about it?”
Daniel laughed quietly.
“You've been teaching me to worship before you ever let me lead worship.”
Pastor Nash didn't answer immediately.
Then he smiled.
“I was wondering when you'd figure that out.”
Daniel shook his head.
“I knew there was something about that pastor face.”
Rachel laughed.
“I told you.”
. . .
Over the next several days Daniel began practicing something besides music.
Nothing dramatic happened.
He simply began paying attention.
Driving to work one morning, Daniel normally would have turned on the radio.
Instead, he drove in silence for a while.
“Good morning, Lord.”
The words felt almost awkward.
Then he laughed.
“I guess You already knew I was awake.”
He drove another mile.
“Thank You for my job.”
Another mile.
“Thank You for Rachel.”
He smiled.
“Thank You for Ethan and Lily.”
Then,
“Thank You for Sadie.”
He paused.
“Although You and I may need to talk about what she's doing to my furniture.”
He smiled.
There was no thunder.
No overwhelming feeling.
No audible voice.
Just Daniel . . .
and God.
And somehow Daniel was beginning to understand that was enough.
. . .
At work, something went wrong.
A problem that normally would have frustrated him immediately.
Daniel felt the irritation rise.
Then he remembered.
God is with me.
He stopped.
“Lord, help me handle this right.”
The problem didn't disappear.
But Daniel approached it differently.
Later he realized something.
Practicing God's presence wasn't only about feeling peaceful.
Sometimes it meant remembering who you belonged to before you reacted.
. . .
Rachel had been practicing too.
She had been doing it for years without calling it that.
But now she became more intentional.
Driving home after work.
“Thank You, Father.”
Making dinner.
“Help me have patience tonight.”
Listening to Ethan talk about school.
Watching Lily turn a five-minute story into fifteen minutes.
Rachel smiled.
“Thank You for them.”
Sometimes she simply whispered,
“I love You, Lord.”
No music.
No church.
No platform.
Just worship.
. . .
A few evenings later Daniel was cleaning the sanctuary alone.
Rachel hadn't arrived yet.
His guitar sat near the front.
Daniel pushed the vacuum down one aisle.
Then another.
He stopped.
The sanctuary was empty.
He looked toward the platform.
A few months earlier, a room like this would have been nothing more than a room.
Now Daniel understood something.
God wasn't more present near the platform than He was beside the vacuum cleaner.
Daniel switched off the vacuum.
Silence filled the room.
He closed his eyes.
“Jesus . . . thank You.”
That was all.
He stood there for a moment.
Then he opened his eyes and smiled.
“Okay.”
He turned the vacuum back on.
Worship continued.
. . .
Later Rachel arrived.
She found Daniel sitting on the edge of the platform with his guitar.
“You practicing?”
Daniel nodded.
“Sort of.”
Rachel sat beside him.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel played a quiet chord.
“I've been thinking about what Pastor Nash said.”
“About practicing His presence?”
“Yeah.”
Daniel looked across the sanctuary.
“I think I was making worship leading harder than it needed to be.”
Rachel smiled.
“That's impressive. You haven't even done it yet.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Daniel played another chord.
“I thought I had to get people somewhere.”
Rachel listened.
“But Pastor Nash said God is already here.”
“Yes.”
“So maybe my job isn't to get people into God's presence.”
Daniel paused.
“Maybe it's to help them turn their attention toward the God who's already with them.”
Rachel smiled.
“I think you're learning.”
Daniel looked at her.
“That's becoming an annoying phrase.”
“You're still learning.”
“See?”
Rachel laughed.
. . .
Daniel began playing one of the songs they'd been practicing.
Quietly.
No microphone.
No congregation.
Rachel joined him.
Her voice was soft at first.
Then steadier.
Daniel didn't think about whether he was leading.
Rachel didn't think about whether her voice was good enough.
They simply worshiped.
After a while the song ended.
Neither spoke immediately.
Rachel finally smiled.
“That felt different.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yeah.”
“What changed?”
Daniel thought for a moment.
“I wasn't thinking about Wednesday.”
Rachel looked at him.
“Neither was I.”
Daniel smiled.
“Maybe that's the point.”
. . .
Pastor Nash had been standing quietly near the back of the sanctuary.
Neither of them had noticed him.
He waited until they finished.
“That.”
Daniel and Rachel both turned.
Daniel laughed.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.”
Rachel looked embarrassed.
Pastor Nash walked toward them.
“That is what I want you to remember Wednesday night.”
Daniel looked down at his guitar.
“The song?”
“No..”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“The attention.”
Daniel understood.
“You weren't trying to impress anybody.”
Rachel looked at Daniel.
Pastor Nash continued.
“You weren't wondering what I thought.”
“You weren't worrying about the congregation.”
“You were worshiping God.”
He stopped near the platform.
“Wednesday night, don't suddenly change who you're singing to just because there are people in the chairs.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
Pastor Nash looked at Rachel.
“And don't let the presence of people make you forget the presence of God.”
Rachel smiled.
“I'll try.”
Pastor Nash shook his head gently.
“Don't wait until Wednesday to try.”
Rachel understood.
“Practice.”
“Exactly.”
. . .
That evening Daniel drove home thinking about those words.
Practice the presence of God.
It wasn't a technique.
It wasn't a formula.
It wasn't pretending to feel something.
It wasn't trying to create an atmosphere.
It was relationship.
Jesus had promised never to leave him.
The Holy Spirit lived within him.
Daniel's part was learning to live with an awareness of that truth.
To turn his attention toward God.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until remembering Him became more natural than forgetting Him.
. . .
When Daniel reached home, Sadie met him at the door.
He scratched behind her ears.
“You know something?”
Sadie wagged her tail.
“I think I finally figured out how to practice for Wednesday.”
Sadie stared at him.
Daniel smiled.
“And it doesn't even require a guitar.”
He walked toward the kitchen.
Then stopped.
“Although apparently Pastor Nash still expects me to know the songs.”
Sadie followed him.
Daniel laughed.
“There's always a catch.”
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
Psalm sixteen, verse eight.
“I have set the LORD always before me; because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved.”
. . .
The Light to Carry
Practicing the presence of God does not mean trying to make God appear.
For those who belong to Christ, He has already promised to be with us.
The Holy Spirit dwells within the believer.
The question is not whether God is present.
The question is whether we are paying attention.
We can acknowledge Him while driving.
Talk with Him while working.
Thank Him while doing ordinary things.
Turn to Him when trouble comes.
Worship Him without music.
Obey His Word when nobody sees.
And simply stop sometimes and remember . . .
God is with me.
Daniel thought worship training would begin with a guitar.
Instead, some of his most important lessons came while holding a vacuum cleaner.
Because the platform doesn't create a worshiper.
The worshiper brings to the platform what has already been growing in private.
And this truth reaches far beyond worship leaders.
We don't have to wait for Sunday morning to walk with God.
His presence belongs in Monday morning traffic.
In the workplace.
In our homes.
In conversations.
In difficult moments.
In quiet moments.
In the ordinary parts of life.
Practicing His presence is learning to turn our hearts toward Him again and again.
Not because He keeps leaving.
But because we so easily become distracted.
Set the Lord before you.
Talk with Him.
Listen.
Thank Him.
Obey Him.
Worship Him.
And when your attention wanders . . .
turn it back toward Him.
Because the greatest preparation for worship isn't learning how to perform in God's presence.
It's learning how to live in His presence.
In Christ.
Journey Fourteen.
Practicing His Presence.
In Christ — Journey 15
More Than a Song
God isn't simply building a worship ministry. He's building a marriage, a family, a home, and lives of worship.
Daniel's house is becoming a reality. But before Daniel and Rachel can begin thinking about their future together, there are two very important people who need to know what is happening.
Ethan and Lily.
As Daniel and Rachel explain that they believe they are going to marry, the children begin discovering that they aren't being asked to fit into someone else's new life.
They're already part of the life Daniel and Rachel are building.
And while a family begins taking shape, another door opens.
Wednesday night arrives.
Daniel picks up his guitar. Rachel steps beside him. Their first opportunity to lead worship isn't perfect—but somewhere between a wrong key, nervous voices, and remembering Who their audience really is, something changes.
They stop thinking about themselves.
And they worship.
Scripture for the Journey
Colossians 3:17 (NKJV)
“And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.”
The Light to Carry
Worship is more than a microphone, a guitar, or a song.
A few minutes after Daniel holds a guitar on the platform, he's carrying a trash bag out the church door.
Same servant. Different tool.
God is teaching Daniel and Rachel that worship reaches into every part of life—church, work, marriage, family, home, and service when nobody is watching.
Worship isn't defined by what we're holding. It's defined by Who we're doing it for.
Because a life surrendered to Jesus will always be...
More Than a Song.
Listen To Journey 15
In Christ
Journey 15 — More Than a Song
Daniel was beginning to understand that God could change a life faster than a person could learn how to live it.
Not long ago, his biggest concerns had been work, rent, and what Sadie had destroyed while he was gone.
Now there was Jesus.
Rachel.
Ethan and Lily.
A church family.
A house.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it, Pastor Nash wanted Daniel and Rachel to lead a couple of worship songs on Wednesday night.
Daniel had gone from wondering whether God was real in people's lives to wondering what key Rachel should sing in.
It was a lot.
And he wouldn't have traded it for anything.
. . .
The phone call came Tuesday afternoon.
Daniel stepped away from his desk when he saw the number.
“Hello?”
The real-estate agent sounded cheerful.
“Daniel, I have some good news.”
Daniel straightened.
“I'm listening.”
“Everything has come together. We're ready to move toward closing.”
Daniel was silent.
“Daniel?”
“Yeah. I'm here.”
“You don't sound excited.”
“No.. I think I'm trying to catch up.”
She laughed.
“You've got a house.”
Daniel looked out the window.
A house.
Three bedrooms.
Two bathrooms.
A garage.
A fenced yard for Sadie.
And a payment lower than his rent.
But Daniel wasn't thinking about the payment.
He was thinking about three bedrooms.
One for him and Rachel.
One for Ethan.
One for Lily.
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome. I'll send everything over.”
Daniel ended the call and stood quietly.
Then he smiled.
“Thank You, Lord.”
A few months ago, putting down roots hadn't even been part of his plan.
Apparently God had other ideas.
. . .
That evening Daniel sat with Rachel at her kitchen table.
Ethan and Lily were in the other room.
Rachel looked over the paperwork.
“So it's really happening.”
“Looks that way.”
“When?”
“If everything stays on schedule, soon.”
Rachel looked at him.
Daniel knew that look.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No.. I've learned about your nothing.”
Rachel smiled.
“I was just thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“Daniel.”
“Sorry.”
Rachel looked back at the papers.
“We probably need to talk to the kids.”
Daniel's humor disappeared.
“Yeah.”
“They know we're serious.”
“But they don't know what we know.”
Rachel nodded.
Daniel leaned back.
For the first time, the words we're getting married didn't feel humorous.
They felt heavy.
Not bad.
Important.
“Do you think they're ready?”
Rachel thought about it.
“I don't know if there's a ready.”
Daniel nodded.
“Fair.”
“But they deserve to know what's happening.”
“Absolutely.”
Rachel looked toward the other room.
“And Ethan may have questions.”
“Lily won't?”
Rachel smiled.
“Lily will have seventeen questions before Ethan finishes his first one.”
Daniel laughed.
“That sounds about right.”
Rachel reached across the table and touched his hand.
“Daniel . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for understanding that this isn't just about you and me.”
Daniel looked at her.
“They're part of you, and soon to be part of us.”
Rachel became quiet.
He had said those words before.
Before Daniel knew how deeply they mattered.
Daniel squeezed her hand.
“They're part of us figuring this out.”
Rachel smiled.
“Then let's tell them.”
. . .
A few minutes later, Ethan and Lily sat across from them.
Lily looked suspicious.
“Are we in trouble?”
Daniel blinked.
“Why would you think you're in trouble?”
Ethan answered.
“Because grown-ups say, ‘We need to talk.’”
Daniel looked at Rachel.
“They have a point.”
Rachel tried not to smile.
“Nobody's in trouble.”
Lily relaxed.
“Okay.”
Rachel looked at both children.
“Daniel and I want to talk to you about something important.”
Lily immediately leaned forward.
“What?”
Rachel glanced at Daniel, then back at them.
“Daniel and I have been praying about our future.”
Ethan frowned slightly.
“What future?”
Rachel took a breath.
“We believe that someday soon Daniel and I are going to get married.”
Lily's eyes widened.
“You're getting married?”
Rachel smiled.
“Yes.”
Lily turned toward Daniel.
“To Daniel?”
Daniel covered his mouth.
Rachel stared at her.
“Yes, Lily. To Daniel.”
“Oh.”
Lily thought for approximately two seconds.
“Does Sadie live with us?”
Daniel laughed.
“Apparently we've reached the important part.”
Lily waited.
“Yes. Sadie would live with us.”
“Good.”
Ethan hadn't said anything.
Daniel noticed.
Rachel did too.
“Ethan?”
He looked at his mother.
“So . . . what happens to us?”
The room became quiet.
Rachel started to answer, but Daniel gently spoke.
“You and Lily are part of this too.”
Ethan looked at him.
Daniel leaned forward.
“I'm not marrying your mom and expecting the two of you to disappear.”
Lily frowned.
“That would be hard.”
Daniel looked at her.
“I've noticed.”
Ethan smiled slightly.
Daniel looked back at him.
“Your mom and I aren't making some new life that you have to figure out how to fit into.”
He paused.
“You're already part of the life we're building.”
Ethan looked down at his hands.
“Do we have to move?”
Rachel answered.
“Eventually, yes.”
“To Daniel's apartment?”
Daniel smiled.
“No..”
Lily looked excited.
“The house?”
Daniel and Rachel looked at each other.
Daniel nodded.
“The house.”
“You got it?”
“Almost.”
Lily bounced in her chair.
“Can I see my room?”
Rachel laughed.
“Lily, you don't have a room yet.”
Daniel quietly said,
“Actually . . .”
Rachel turned toward him.
Daniel smiled.
“There are three bedrooms.”
Lily's eyes widened.
Ethan looked at Daniel.
“Three?”
Daniel nodded.
“I thought maybe you two would like to help decide which rooms belong to who.”
Lily jumped down.
“Let's go.”
Rachel laughed.
“Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because it's bedtime.”
Lily looked deeply offended by the existence of bedtime.
Daniel whispered,
“Tomorrow?”
Rachel gave him a look.
“You are not helping.”
“I know.”
. . .
Later, after the children were asleep, Rachel stood at the sink.
Daniel came beside her.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Ethan?”
“He's thinking.”
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
“I don't want him to feel like I'm taking something away from him.”
Rachel turned.
“Then keep doing what you're doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“Not trying to replace anybody.”
Daniel nodded.
Rachel continued.
“Just love them.”
Daniel was quiet.
“I do.”
Rachel looked at him.
He hadn't said it dramatically.
He hadn't even seemed to realize what he'd said.
Rachel's eyes filled slightly.
Daniel noticed.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“There it is again.”
Rachel smiled.
“Good night, Daniel.”
“That's not an answer.”
“I know.”
. . .
Two days later they stood inside the house.
It was still mostly empty.
Sadie was not there because Daniel had decided four humans were enough chaos for the first visit.
Lily ran down the hallway.
“Which one's mine?”
Rachel called after her.
“Lily!”
Daniel laughed.
“Let her look.”
Ethan walked more slowly.
Daniel followed him to the first bedroom.
“This one's a little bigger.”
Ethan stepped inside.
A window looked toward the backyard.
Daniel pointed.
“You could probably put your bed there.”
Ethan looked around.
“My bed?”
“If you want this one.”
Ethan turned.
“Mine?”
Daniel nodded.
“Sure.”
Ethan walked to the wall.
“Can I put stuff up?”
“Of course.”
“Posters?”
Daniel hesitated.
“What kind of posters?”
Ethan smiled.
Daniel laughed.
“I'm kidding. It's your room.”
Rachel had stopped in the doorway.
Daniel didn't notice her expression.
But she heard the words.
It's your room.
Months earlier, Rachel had wondered whether this man could truly love her children.
Whether he could become part of their lives without merely tolerating them because they came with her.
God had already removed that doubt.
Now she was watching the answer unfold in ordinary moments.
Daniel looked over.
“What?”
Rachel smiled.
“Nothing.”
Daniel pointed at her.
“No.. We're going to work on that.”
“Good luck.”
From the other bedroom came Lily's voice.
“I PICKED MINE!”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Daniel laughed.
“I think that decision has been made.”
. . .
They found Lily standing in the middle of the other bedroom.
“This one.”
Rachel looked around.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Lily pointed toward the window.
“I can see the tree.”
Daniel nodded seriously.
“Strong reasoning.”
“And Sadie can sleep in here.”
Daniel stopped.
“No..”
Lily looked at him.
“Why?”
“Sadie already tried to negotiate her own bedroom.”
“She did?”
“Absolutely.”
Rachel crossed her arms.
“You have strange conversations with that dog.”
“You have no idea.”
Ethan wandered in.
“Where does Mom sleep?”
Silence.
Daniel suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.
Rachel answered calmly.
“With Daniel.”
Lily's face lit up.
“Because you're getting married!”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at Rachel.
She looked back at him.
This was real.
Not someday in theory.
Not a private word Daniel was holding in his heart.
Not questions Rachel had carried before God.
A family was beginning to talk about where the beds would go.
. . .
They ate pizza sitting on the living-room floor.
Lily talked almost constantly.
Ethan asked whether he could keep his bike in the garage.
Daniel told him yes.
Lily wanted to know if they could get a swing.
Rachel told her they were not making a shopping list.
Daniel nearly choked on his pizza.
Rachel looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You're getting as bad as me.”
Daniel smiled.
“Apparently.”
He knew something Rachel still didn't know.
Long before this house . . .
before the church . . .
before salvation . . .
before any of this . . .
Daniel had walked toward the door of a convenience store and received that unmistakable inward impression.
She's going to be your next wife.
He still hadn't told Rachel.
And he wasn't going to.
Not yet.
God had spoken to Rachel for Himself.
Daniel was grateful he had waited.
. . .
On the drive back, Ethan and Lily fell asleep.
Rachel sat beside Daniel.
“That went better than I expected.”
“Lily has already remodeled.”
Rachel laughed quietly.
“Ethan worries me more.”
“He'll need time.”
Rachel looked at Daniel.
“You're okay with that?”
“Why wouldn't I be?”
“Because this is a lot for him.”
Daniel nodded.
“It's a lot for me too.”
Rachel smiled.
Daniel glanced toward the back seat.
“I don't need him to figure out how he feels on my schedule.”
Rachel looked out the window for a moment.
“Thank you.”
Daniel smiled.
“We're going to be okay.”
Rachel looked back at him.
“Yes.”
This time she didn't say she hoped so.
She knew.
. . .
Wednesday arrived much too quickly.
Daniel had practiced.
Rachel had practiced.
They had prayed.
They had practiced the presence of God.
And Daniel had tuned his guitar.
Then tuned it again.
Then checked it again.
Rachel watched.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Your guitar was in tune five minutes ago.”
“Things happen.”
“To guitars?”
“You never know.”
Rachel shook her head.
Pastor Nash walked past them.
“Ready?”
Daniel and Rachel answered together.
“No..”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Good.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Why does everybody keep saying that?”
“Because you might remember you need God.”
Daniel looked at Rachel.
“He does that pastor thing on purpose.”
“I know.”
Pastor Nash started to walk away, then stopped.
“Daniel.”
“Yeah?”
“Who's your audience tonight?”
Daniel looked toward the sanctuary.
“The congregation?”
Pastor Nash waited.
Daniel caught himself.
“The Lord.”
Pastor Nash nodded.
“Now you're ready.”
. . .
They had cleaned the church before service.
The trash was emptied.
The bathrooms were ready.
The sanctuary had been vacuumed.
Then Daniel changed from vacuum cleaner to guitar.
Same servant.
Different tool.
. . .
When the service began, Daniel stood behind the microphone.
Rachel stood beside him.
The sanctuary wasn't packed.
It was Wednesday night.
People were still coming in.
Someone coughed.
A child dropped something.
Nothing about the room looked dramatic.
Daniel's hands felt slightly damp.
He looked toward Pastor Nash.
Pastor Nash simply nodded.
Daniel remembered.
Who's your audience?
Daniel looked down.
Then quietly said,
“Lord, this is for You.”
He began.
. . .
The first song went well.
Mostly.
Daniel missed one chord.
Nobody died.
That was encouraging.
Rachel sang beside him.
Her voice was nervous at first.
Then steadier.
Daniel relaxed.
They finished.
A few people smiled.
Daniel took a breath.
Second song.
He played the opening chord.
Rachel began to sing.
Then immediately looked at him.
Daniel knew.
Wrong key.
Too high.
He stopped.
Rachel tried not to laugh.
Daniel looked at her.
“That's too high, isn't it?”
Rachel nodded.
“A little.”
Someone in the congregation chuckled.
Daniel looked out at them.
“We're still learning.”
More laughter.
Not mocking.
Warm.
Daniel changed the key.
“Let's try that again.”
Rachel smiled.
“Please.”
And just like that, something broke.
Not spiritually.
The pressure.
Daniel didn't have to pretend he was an experienced worship leader.
Rachel didn't have to pretend she was an experienced worship singer.
They were two people learning to serve God.
That was enough.
. . .
Daniel began again.
This time the key fit Rachel.
Her voice settled.
Daniel's hands stopped shaking.
Then he remembered J14's lesson.
Don't let the presence of people make you forget the presence of God.
Daniel closed his eyes for a moment.
Jesus.
That was all.
Jesus.
He stopped wondering whether Pastor Nash approved.
Stopped wondering whether the congregation liked his playing.
Stopped thinking about the missed chord.
Stopped thinking about himself.
He worshiped.
Rachel heard the difference.
Not in his guitar.
In him.
She turned her own attention toward the Lord.
And she worshiped too.
. . .
A woman near the front raised her hands.
Someone else closed his eyes.
A man who had barely been singing began to join in.
Daniel noticed.
For just a second.
Then he turned his attention back toward Jesus.
They weren't his audience.
They were worshipers too.
. . .
The song ended.
There was a quiet moment.
Daniel didn't rush to fill it.
He simply whispered,
“Thank You, Jesus.”
Then he stepped back.
Pastor Nash came forward.
And the service continued.
. . .
Afterward, Daniel put his guitar in its case.
Pastor Nash approached.
Daniel looked at him.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Was it okay?”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Which part?”
Daniel groaned.
“You pastors answer questions with questions too much.”
“Occupational hazard.”
Daniel waited.
Pastor Nash looked toward the platform.
“You started tonight trying very hard to get everything right.”
Daniel nodded.
“I noticed.”
“So did everyone else.”
“Thank you.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“But somewhere in that second song, you forgot about yourself.”
Daniel became quiet.
“I know.”
“That's when you started leading.”
Daniel looked at him.
Pastor Nash continued.
“A song leader can lead people through words and music.”
He paused.
“A worship leader helps lead people toward God.”
Daniel looked toward the emptying sanctuary.
“I saw people responding.”
Pastor Nash nodded.
“Be careful with that.”
Daniel looked back.
“What do you mean?”
“Don't judge whether God used you by how many hands went up.”
Daniel listened.
“Don't decide you succeeded because somebody cried.”
Pastor Nash continued.
“And don't decide you failed because nobody did.”
“Then how do I know?”
“You prepare.”
“You worship.”
“You point people toward Jesus.”
“You remain sensitive to the Holy Spirit.”
“You serve faithfully.”
“And you leave the results with God.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“That sounds harder than counting hands.”
Pastor Nash laughed.
“It probably is.”
. . .
Across the sanctuary, Rachel was gathering her things.
An older woman approached her.
Rachel smiled.
“Hi.”
The woman touched Rachel gently on the arm.
“Thank you for worshiping with us tonight.”
Rachel paused.
Not You have a beautiful voice.
Not You sounded wonderful.
Not You should be on the worship team.
Thank you for worshiping with us.
Rachel smiled.
“Thank you.”
The woman walked away.
Rachel stood still for a moment.
Something in her heart settled.
For years she had wondered whether her voice was good enough.
Tonight, for part of the service, she hadn't thought about her voice at all.
She had thought about Jesus.
Maybe that was the answer.
. . .
Daniel walked over.
“You okay?”
Rachel nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Still think your voice isn't good enough?”
Rachel smiled.
“I wasn't thinking about my voice.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Neither was I.”
Rachel grinned.
“Maybe we're learning.”
Daniel pointed at her.
“Don't start.”
She laughed.
. . .
Most people had left.
Daniel looked around.
A few cups remained.
One trash can near the back was filling up.
He picked up a trash bag.
Pastor Nash noticed.
“You know somebody else can get that tonight.”
Daniel looked at him.
“We said we'd take care of it.”
Pastor Nash smiled.
“Yes, you did.”
Daniel tied the bag.
A few minutes earlier he'd been standing on the platform with a guitar.
Now he was carrying trash toward the back door.
And somehow it didn't feel like he had stepped down.
It felt like worship had simply changed forms.
Rachel came alongside him carrying another bag.
“Need help?”
“I thought you were a worship singer now.”
Rachel raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you were a worship leader.”
Daniel looked at the trash bag in his hand.
“Apparently we're very important.”
Rachel laughed.
“Open the door.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
. . .
Later they stood outside under the night sky.
The church was locked.
The children were tired.
Daniel's guitar was in the truck.
Daniel looked at Rachel.
“House.”
Rachel smiled.
“House.”
“Kids.”
“Kids.”
“Church.”
“Church.”
“Cleaning bathrooms.”
Rachel laughed.
“Cleaning bathrooms.”
“Leading worship.”
Rachel shook her head.
“This has been a strange week.”
Daniel smiled.
“This has been a strange life.”
Rachel grew quiet.
“A good one?”
Daniel looked at her.
“A new one.”
. . .
Daniel thought about the man who had arrived in this town.
Religious.
Lonely.
Knowing about Jesus but not knowing Him.
He thought about the convenience store.
Rachel.
Ethan and Lily.
Sadie.
The church.
The house.
The janitor's closet.
Pastor Nash.
The Bible that was becoming alive to him.
And tonight . . .
worship.
God hadn't simply added a few religious activities to Daniel's old life.
He was making all things new.
. . .
Daniel looked toward the church.
“I think I understand the title now.”
Rachel frowned.
“What title?”
Daniel smiled.
“Nothing.”
Rachel stared at him.
“Oh, no. You're not allowed to do that.”
“Do what?”
“The nothing thing.”
Daniel laughed.
“Good night, Rachel.”
“Daniel.”
He opened the truck door.
Rachel shook her head, smiling.
. . .
Scripture for the Journey
Colossians chapter three, verse seventeen.
“And whatever you do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through Him.”
. . .
The Light to Carry
Worship is more than a song.
It is more than a microphone.
More than a guitar.
More than a voice.
And more than what happens on a platform.
Daniel and Rachel prepared for their first opportunity to lead worship.
They practiced the music.
They prayed.
They prepared their hearts.
And when things didn't go perfectly, they learned something important.
God wasn't asking them to pretend.
He was asking them to worship.
Excellence matters.
Preparation matters.
Developing the gifts God has given us matters.
But excellence is not the same as worship.
And the response of people is not the measure of our faithfulness.
A raised hand does not prove we succeeded.
A quiet congregation does not prove we failed.
Our responsibility is to prepare, obey, worship, point people toward Jesus, and leave the results with God.
Rachel learned that she didn't need to prove her voice was good enough.
Daniel learned that leading worship wasn't about getting people to respond to him.
And both learned that ministry doesn't make the servant more important.
A few minutes after Daniel held a guitar on the platform, he held a trash bag in his hand.
Both could be worship.
Because worship isn't defined by what we're holding.
It's defined by Who we're doing it for.
And away from the church, God was building something else.
A home.
A marriage.
A family.
Ethan and Lily weren't extras in Daniel and Rachel's future.
They were part of it.
The house wasn't simply somewhere Daniel would live.
It was becoming a place where a family could grow.
God was changing more than Daniel's Sunday mornings.
He was changing his whole life.
And that is what happens when we begin to understand what it means to be in Christ.
Whatever you do . . .
In word or deed . . .
At church or at home . . .
With a guitar or a vacuum . . .
In front of people or where nobody sees . . .
Do it in the name of the Lord Jesus.
Because a life of worship is always . . .
More Than a Song.
In Christ.
Journey Fifteen.
More Than a Song.