I was talking to a friend the other night. You know, the kind who just seems to help you piece all of the pieces together. The one that no matter what kind of funk you find yourself in, she can make it all make sense, just like that.
Yeah, so I was talking to her.
September was a hard month. I’m not entirely sure why. I can’t pinpoint an exact reason why, but it was hard and I struggled.
Each week as I checked in with my friend she gave me, little by little, the things I needed to make sense of what was going on exactly.
I would get off the phone with her, refreshed and renewed. I would have a better understanding of what was going on in my life.
And it was the best feeling ever.
As I finished up the saga, that was my life, the past week, she offered her input.
“Our daily bread.”
Let me back up for just a second.
See, the thing was I had hit rockbottom again. I’m not sure I tried to avoid it either. I was telling another friend the other day that rockbottom is where I felt the safest. Where things made the most sense. Where my ego couldn’t get me in trouble.
So there I was, back at rockbottom. The only place where I can fully rely on God without getting in my own way.
But the thing about rockbottom, especially if your ego isn’t quite ready to give up, is that you can still wander off in your mind. You can try to come up with solutions. You can find yourself angry at God because, well, ‘it would be better if…’
I’m always trying to convince God to do things my way. Always.
“Well, what if we did this?” or “But I think we should do it that way. Can you make that way happen?”
The thing is, He very seldom takes my advice.
“Our daily bread,” she said.
I listened to my friend offer her strength, experience, and hope. And something clicked. I shouldn’t be surprised though, this is what she does. This is what they do.
Something clicked and I finally got what He had been saying.
“Give us this day our daily bread.”
There it was. I had been saying this prayer for years. Ever since I was a child, but it never actually dawned on me, what exactly I was saying.
As my sweet friend pointed out, it doesn’t say ‘give us our bread today and tomorrow’ or ‘give us bread next week’ or ‘give us our bread next year’. It simply states ‘give us THIS DAY our DAILY bread.’
As I thought about this one particular sentence that I had been saying for years and years, I couldn’t help but think of something else that I had known for years and years.
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. Psalm 119:105
Just like our daily bread, think about the light of a lamp. It’s not very bright, right? It really wouldn’t allow you to see the whole path, right? Just a little bit at a time.
Really, just enough to let you know that it was okay to take the next step.
And then the next step.
And then the next step.
Now faith is the substance of things for, the evidence of things not seen. Hebrews 11:1
He never said we would see the whole path or have bread planned out in advance. That’s too much for us. I don’t know about you, but I can get lost in the worrying of what is to come.
How will I pay this bill? What if I don’t hit my number next month? What if? What if? What if?
But the thing is, we just have to bring it back to this day. This moment. This minute. This second if we have to.
Even He knows that.
He knows how hard it is to trust Him. He knows how scary it is to let someone else take control of our life. He knows the struggle that we have by giving it to Him. That’s why, He asks us only for this day. To trust Him only for this day.
Because He knows and He loves us.
We’re never gonna see the whole path. And I don’t know about you, but I’m grateful for that. Because as I close this last year next Monday, when my husband walked out on us, I can’t say that had I known what that path looked like, that I would have taken it. But at that moment. In my rockbottom. All I knew was that I could trust Him to take the next step. And the next step. And the next step.
That was all I could do. And I let Him do the rest.
And, well, y’all. What should have been the worst year of my life. What should have destroyed me and hurt me. What should have left me angry and bitter and resentful. Well, it did none of those things.
It turned out to be one of the best years of my life.
And that’s because I only saw it one day at a time.