(Part 12 of 12)
Isaiah 46:9–10 (9)remember the former things of old; for I am God, and there is no other; I am God, and there is none like me, (10)declaring the end from the beginning and from ancient times things not yet done, saying, ‘My counsel shall stand, and I will accomplish all my purpose,’(ESV)
You don’t know what today is. I don’t mean you don’t know the date. You know where you are. You know what you’re supposed to do today. You probably know what’s waiting tomorrow. There are bills. Appointments. Work. Children. Conversations. Laundry. Deadlines. Projects. People who need something. Things you’ve been putting off. Things you’re worried about. Things you’re praying about. Things you’re trying very hard not to think about.
It feels like a day. That’s the problem.
David’s field felt like a field. Ruth’s field felt like a field.
Neither one had any idea what we’d eventually call the story.
We’ve Been Cheating
For this entire series, we’ve had an enormous advantage. We knew the ending. We knew Goliath was coming while David was watching sheep. We knew Pharaoh was coming while Moses was watching sheep. We knew the famine was coming while Joseph sat in prison. We knew Haman was coming while Esther wore the crown. We knew the rooster was coming while Peter argued with Jesus. We knew the furnace was coming while four young men were deciding how they would live in Babylon. We knew Elijah would need Zarephath before his brook dried up. We knew David would come from Ruth. We knew Bethlehem would lead to Calvary. We knew Peter would stand again.
They didn’t.
We’ve been reading their lives backward. They had to live them forward. That’s a completely different experience.
Remove the Chapter Titles
Imagine reading Joseph’s story without chapter numbers. Without headings. Without knowing there’s a famine coming.
Stop the story when he’s in the pit. What’s God doing?
Stop when he’s sold. What’s God doing?
Stop when he’s falsely accused. What’s God doing?
Stop in prison. What’s God doing?
Stop after the cupbearer forgets him.
Now answer. You can’t. Not completely. Neither could Joseph.
Now do it with Moses. Forty years old. Failure. Fugitive. Midian. Sheep. Year after year after year. What’s God doing?
We know. Moses didn’t.
Do it with Naomi. Husband dead. Sons dead. Returning home with Ruth. “I went away full, and the LORD has brought me back empty.” What’s God doing?
We know something Naomi doesn’t know. Obed hasn’t been born. Jesse hasn’t been born. David hasn’t been born. Bethlehem is centuries away from another child whose birth will divide history. Naomi just knows she’s grieving.
That’s what life looks like from inside the story.
Now Remove Your Chapter Title
This is where things get uncomfortable. Because you don’t have one either.
You don’t get: Chapter 17: The Year Everything Finally Made Sense
You don’t get: Chapter 23: The Conversation That Changed Everything
You don’t get: Chapter 31: The Job I Thought Was a Detour
You don’t get: Chapter 42: Why God Didn’t Answer When I Expected Him To
You don’t know what chapter you’re in.
Maybe you’re in the setup. Maybe you’re in the middle. Maybe something is ending. Maybe something is beginning. Maybe today is genuinely just an ordinary day.
We have to leave room for that too.
Not every cup of coffee is prophetic. Not every inconvenience is divine choreography. Not every stranger is secretly carrying your destiny. Not every closed door means God has a better door waiting next Tuesday.
We can become ridiculous trying to force spiritual significance onto every detail of life. That’s not what this series has been about.
The point isn’t that everything feels significant because everything is secretly a sign.
The point is almost the opposite. Some of the most significant moments in Scripture didn’t feel significant at all.
Jesse Sent David to Deliver Lunch
That’s still one of my favorite details. David didn’t wake up knowing he was going to fight Goliath.
His father sent him with food. That’s it.
Take this to your brothers. Check on them. Come back. An errand.
That’s how one of the most famous stories in Scripture begins from David’s perspective.
Not with dramatic music. Not with a prophetic announcement. Lunch.
Ruth needed food. She went into a field. Elijah needed water. He went to a brook. Moses was tending sheep. Peter was eating dinner with Jesus. Esther was living in a palace without knowing why her position would eventually matter. Joseph was sitting in prison while the future problem was still years away.
Ordinary things kept happening right beside enormous things. Nobody could see the boundary. Neither can we.
Maybe That’s Why We Struggle With Ordinary Faithfulness
We want to know what matters. Tell me which decision is important. Tell me which conversation changes everything. Tell me which opportunity I can’t miss. Tell me which person I need to notice. Tell me which skill I’ll need five years from now. Tell me what God is preparing me for. Tell me where this is going. Then I’ll know where to put my effort. But that’s not usually how faithfulness works.
David protected sheep because they were his responsibility. Ruth gathered grain because she and Naomi needed food. Joseph served faithfully in places he never would’ve chosen. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego established convictions before anybody lit the furnace. They didn’t know which ordinary act would eventually connect to something extraordinary.
They just had today. So do we.
Maybe Nothing Happens Tomorrow
That’s worth saying. You may read this today and wake up tomorrow to exactly the same life.
Same job. Same house. Same problems. Same unanswered prayer. Same responsibilities. Same uncertainty. Nothing dramatic. Good.
Be faithful there.
This isn’t a call to spend your life staring over the horizon waiting for the giant to appear. David spent far more time with sheep than with Goliath. Most of life is sheep. And sheep matter.
Your marriage matters before there’s a crisis. Your children matter before there’s a milestone. Integrity matters before someone tests it. Prayer matters before you desperately need an answer. Scripture matters before you’re searching for a verse to survive the night. Character matters before anyone is watching. Kindness matters when nobody remembers it. Faithfulness matters even if the story never becomes dramatic enough for anyone else to tell.
You don’t need a giant to make obedience valuable.
But What If?
Still…What if?
Not: What spectacular thing is God secretly preparing for me?
That’s the wrong question. Try this one: What if I’m already standing somewhere that will make sense later?
What if something you’re learning now will matter in a place you’ve never imagined? What if the person you’re encouraging today is carrying something you know nothing about? What if the prayer that seems unanswered is occurring inside a story whose next page you haven’t reached? What if the closed door really is just a closed door—but learning to trust God beside it changes you? What if this season doesn’t lead to prominence at all? What if it prepares you to endure? To serve? To forgive? To recognize someone else’s pain? To remain standing? To let go? To stay? To leave? To wait? What if you never get to see all of what God does with your faithfulness?
Ruth didn’t. Some stories outlive the people who begin them.
Stop Demanding the Ending
Maybe that’s one of the hardest things faith requires. We want God to explain Himself in advance. Tell me what You’re doing, and then I’ll trust You. But that’s not trust. That’s informed consent.
Faith often has to say:
I don’t know what You’re doing.
I don’t know why I’m here.
I don’t know why this took so long.
I don’t know why that ended.
I don’t know why this door opened.
I don’t know why that prayer still seems unanswered.
I don’t know what comes next.
But I know who You are.
That’s enough to take the next faithful step. Not the next fifty. The next one.
You Are Here
That’s all you actually have. Here. Today. This conversation. This responsibility. This opportunity. This grief. This relationship. This ordinary Thursday. This season you wish would hurry up and become something else.
We spend so much of life waiting for the part that matters that we risk missing the possibility that this is part of the part that matters.
Joseph didn’t know prison connected to Pharaoh. Moses didn’t know sheep connected to Egypt. Ruth didn’t know gleaning connected to David. Peter didn’t know his humiliation would someday shape the man strengthening his brothers.
None of them could see far enough. Neither can you. And maybe you’re not supposed to.
In the Beginning
We started this series with a stove. Click. Whoosh. The flame appears.
That’s when we say cooking began. But before the flame came the preparation. Before the preparation came the ingredients. Before the ingredients reached the kitchen, somebody grew them. Harvested them. Transported them. Stocked them. Bought them. Years of training may stand behind the hands preparing the meal.
The fire is simply the first part we notice.
That’s how stories work.
We notice the giant. The palace. The famine. The decree. The rooster. The furnace. The drought. Bethlehem. The Cross. We notice the fire. God sees the whole story. And right now, somewhere in your life, there may be no fire at all.
No giant. No Pharaoh. No decree. No furnace. No obvious moment demanding extraordinary faith.
Maybe all you have is sheep. A field. A brook. A conversation. A responsibility. A prayer. A decision nobody else will ever know you made.
Then be faithful there.
You don’t have to manufacture significance. You don’t have to hunt for signs. You don’t have to force meaning onto every disappointment. You don’t have to know what chapter you’re in. You don’t even have to know whether this particular moment will ever connect to something you consider important. You only have to live faithfully in the part of the story you’ve actually been given. Because one day you may look backward and finally understand what today was.
You may see the preparation. You may recognize the connection. You may finally understand why one thing had to come before another. Or you may never see it in this life.
Either way, God doesn’t need you to know the ending before you trust Him in the middle.
So tend the sheep. Gather the grain. Protect the conviction. Say the prayer. Love the person. Do the work. Take the next step. And when nothing about today looks important enough to become part of a story, remember: David didn’t know about Goliath. Ruth didn’t know about David. Peter didn’t know about Pentecost. Nobody standing at the foot of the Cross could see Sunday morning.
You can’t read your life backward yet. You have to live it forward. So live this part faithfully.
Because by the time you finally realize there was a story to tell, the story may have already begun.
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