Shall We Accept Good and Not Trouble?

Shall We Accept Good and Not Trouble?

A few weeks ago, after another difficult conversation and another unexpected disappointment, I found myself standing in my kitchen thinking about Job. Not Job sitting in ashes. Not Job’s suffering. His wife.

After losing her children, her security, and the life she once knew, she looked at her husband and said, “Curse God and die.”

For years I’ve read those words with a bit of judgment. How could she say that?

Lately, I understand her better.

Her words could be read as bitter or maybe even as desperate. She really seems to think Job should give up on God and reject his faith. And, in a small way, I get that.

Absorbing hit after hit in fast succession makes cynicism feel reasonable. Piled up pain brings a temptation to consider faith to be naïve. And in that place, we can either curse God and die or cling to Him and live.

Job reprimands his wife asking, should we accept good from God and not trouble? Faith is an invitation to trust the heart of God through joy, grief, abundance, loss, long nights, and unanswered questions.

The past stretch of life has been hard in ways I don’t always know how to explain. I don’t know what comes next. The difficult stretch might end soon or more hard things could be ahead. But this much I know: God’s character does not change when my circumstances do. And despite the trouble that has come, I am stubbornly determined to cling to God and live.

So that’s where I am today. Trusting. Believing. Still clinging to God and choosing life.

As I’ve wrestled through the past year and a half, I’ve found myself returning again and again to the book of James. James doesn’t offer easy answers, but it does offer practical wisdom for living with steadfast faith in the middle of trials. Its words about perseverance, wisdom, and wholehearted devotion have become deeply personal to me, convicting me in painful ways.

I don’t know what you’re facing today. Maybe you’re carrying grief, disappointment, uncertainty, or a burden no one else can see. Whatever it is, my encouragement to you is simple: cling to God and live.

The Word We Can’t Say in our House

The Word We Can’t Say in our House

In our house, we no longer say the word walk. Instead, we say things like meander. Or take a casual lap. Sometimes it’s a hop, skip, and a jump, said in the most nonchalant voice possible because the second the actual word ‘walk’ is spoken, our dog completely unravels.

His ears go up, his body stiffens and his eyes locked on mine. He paces between me and the door, whimpering in barely controlled enthusiasm. All he wants is to get outside, and all his energy is focused on accomplishing it.

What our dog doesn’t know is that walks come with risk. He doesn’t understand traffic. He doesn’t think about coyotes. He has no concept of how quickly a peaceful trail can turn dangerous. All he knows is that adventure is waiting on the other side of that word.

The trails near our home are beautiful and I love to walk them. They’re peaceful and quiet and perfect for clearing your head. But they’re also home to animals that roam at dusk. Most of the time, I don’t see them. I only hear about them in warnings posted online with updates and reminders to be careful. Danger is like that. It’s not always obvious, but it’s real.

Peter gives us a similar warning:

Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. (1 Peter 5:8)

A prowling lion is not subtle language. Still, I step into my day confident, distracted, and not particularly watchful. I underestimate spiritual danger because I can’t physically see it. I assume I’m fine until temptation feels reasonable and fear gets louder than truth.

But here’s the comfort: God sees what I don’t.

I leash my dog when we walk not because I want to limit his joy but because I want to protect him from the dangers he doesn’t see. In a similar way, God protects me through His Word, through conviction, boundaries I don’t always understand, and nudges that say, Not that way. Stay close.

It isn’t restriction. It’s protection.

The safest place for my dog is tethered to me on the trail. The safest place for me is tethered to God, and I don’t need to understand every spiritual danger to trust the One who does.

So today, I’m asking myself: Will I stay close? Will I let God guide me, even when I don’t see the risk? Will I trust that His nearness is not limiting but life-giving? Will you?

Because the walk really is richer, steadier, and far safer when we stay near the One who sees the whole trail.

She Laughs at the Days to Come

She Laughs at the Days to Come

Laughter has a way of diffusing what feels overwhelming. It can soften tense moments, and it has even been shown to lower stress levels and blood pressure. If laughter is so good for us, why can it be so hard to laugh?

Verse 25 in Proverbs 31 has always been part encouragement and part challenge to me. A woman who laughs at the future? She’s not worried about it or bracing for it. She laughs. When I picture it in my mind, that’s who I want to be: a confident and carefree, joyful woman.

“Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.”

Proverbs 31:25

Proverbs 31 is an oracle that King Lemuel’s mother taught him (v1). It’s an acrostic poem, each line beginning with a letter of the Hebrew alphabet. In it, the kind of woman worth pursuing is described. This woman represents a collection of qualities that women of God portray, but even more important than what this “woman” does is who this woman fears (v30b). She is praiseworthy because she fears the Lord.

This woman is not carefree because life is easy. She works hard. She plans. She provides. She faces real responsibility and real uncertainty. She can only laugh at the days to come because she fears the Lord and places her confidence is in Him.

Until we’ve settled in our hearts, once and for all, that God is good, that He is for us, that His plans are always better than our plans, until we understand that He sees the world and our lives with eternity in mind, prioritizing what is ultimately best for our souls, we’ll struggle to laugh.

So maybe the goal isn’t to become a woman who has it all together. Maybe it’s simply to become a woman who trusts the One who does because when our trust is in God, we don’t have to fear what’s ahead. We’re free to face the future with strength, dignity and yes, even laughter.

Learning to Cope When the Unknown Lingers

Learning to Cope When the Unknown Lingers

My default coping strategy is to withdraw but stay busy. I fill the margins with productivity so I don’t have to sit too long with whatever is stressing me out. Laundry gets folded. Emails get answered. Projects move forward. On the surface, it looks responsible. Maybe even admirable. And to be fair, sometimes it is helpful. Staying engaged with daily life can keep stress from swallowing me whole. But I’ve learned busyness is only a temporary shelter.

Kevin has been on medical leave far longer than we ever expected. What we assumed would be a short season of uncertainty has stretched into something impossible to “power through.” And as my usual coping methods have proven to be insufficient, I’ve begun to notice how thin the line is between healthy and unhealthy coping.

Healthy and unhealthy coping strategies can look very similar from the outside. Keeping busy can be grounding or it can be avoidance. Withdrawing can create needed space or it can isolate. Staying strong can be faithful or it can quietly refuse help. For me, the warning sign is this: If my strategy helps me function but not feel, there’s probably a better way. The psalmist writes,

“When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy.” (Psalm 94:19)

Consolation requires presence. It asks me not to numb or outrun my emotions, but to bring them honestly before God. Unhealthy coping numbs me; healthy coping draws me into the presence of the Lord. That presence doesn’t magically remove the stress, but it ushers in a kind of joy that can’t be explained apart from Him.

I’ve had to learn new ways to hold the unknown. Some changes have been small, like letting myself name fears out loud instead of tidying them away. Giving myself permission to rest. Sitting with God in prayer without trying to fix the outcome. Some of them are uncomfortable, like asking for help. Admitting I don’t know how this will turn out. Staying emotionally present even when I’d rather distract myself. And reminding myself that I can trust God, no matter how much my circumstances might challenge that trust. And some days, I still default to busyness. Growth rarely looks like a straight line. Paul’s words have become an anchor for me in this season:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Philippians 4:6)

Not because prayer magically removes uncertainty, but because it keeps me connected when uncertainty remains. Because coping isn’t about escaping, it’s about staying present without being overwhelmed. Faith is able to trust without answers. I still don’t have clarity, but I’m learning to live faithfully without it. And here, right in the unknown, grace has met me.

A Christmas Prayer

A Christmas Prayer

If this season finds you more tired than triumphant, you are not out of place. God wants to draw near. This prayer is for those suffering sorrows in a season that tells them to sing. It is a reminder that God bends low toward the hurting and His mercies come even to ruined Jerusalems.

A Christmas Prayer

O God of steadfast love and long-remembered promises,
who split the night with angel-songs,
who chose vulnerability,
strength disguised as weakness,
authority swaddled in a manger.
Bend low to me again with the same compassion that moved You to Bethlehem.

You have not forgotten Your promises.
You are tender and faithful in every hidden place.
You bring new morning mercies to a ruined Jerusalem.
Do what only You can do.

For You, Lord, have never broken a promise.
Your faithfulness has spanned generations.
You are worthy of trust; worthy of praise.
No sorrow, wrong, or longing escapes Your attention.
I remember who You are—
the gatherer of lambs,
the renewer of strength,
the lifter of the lowly,
the refuge in trouble.

So I choose praise.
Not because I feel joyful,
but because You remain unchangingly good.
Here I am, Lord.
with lifted hands and a heavy heart.

Remember me,
And lead me through by your faithful hand.

A Day from Season of Wonder

A Day from Season of Wonder

Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.


Romans 5:1-2


Paul’s message of peace through Jesus Christ takes on special meaning during the Christmas season. As we celebrate the birth of Jesus, we remember that He came to bring peace—not just an absence of conflict or a feeling of calm; but peace that reconciles us to God.

When the angels announced Jesus’ birth to the shepherds, they declared, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” (Luke 2:14). This is more than a sentiment of holiday cheer. God ripped open the heavens so the angels could proclaim that salvation had come.

This flesh-wrapped Deity bears the brokenness suffocating you and me. He pieces us back together with His perfection. He doesn’t always change our circumstances, but He always changes us. Christ has come, and He invites us to follow Him from the manger all the way to the cross—where a weary world can finally lay its burden down.

It’s through faith in Jesus that we are justified, meaning we are seen as righteous by God. This justification brings us into a state of peace with God.

Before Christ’s arrival, sin separated humanity from God. But on that first Christmas, God’s answer to our problem was a tiny baby born in Bethlehem. Christmas proves that God knows our greatest need. Christmas is God making a way out from under the heap of wrath poured onto all sinners. Christmas is our way through the hardships.

Through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, Jesus would tear down the barrier between us and God. The manger points forward to the cross, where Jesus took upon Himself the punishment for our sins and, in exchange, offered us His righteousness. Now, those who have put their faith in Him are justified—declared righteous in God’s sight. This is the true peace of Christmas: peace with God.

Celebrate the peace with God that Jesus brings. The baby wrapped in swaddling clothes is more than a symbol of hope—He was and is our peace.1

Reflection


How does Jesus’ sacrifice bring you peace with God? How does this peace affect your daily life, your interactions with others, and your perspective on challenges? This peace is a gift that transforms you, grounding you in the hope of God and empowering you to live out your faith with confidence and joy.

Prayer


Heavenly Father, thank You for the gift of peace through the Lord Jesus Christ. I am grateful for the justification that comes by faith and for the grace in which I now stand. Help me to fully grasp the depth of Your love as I reflect on Jesus’ sacrifice. Help me grow in my understanding and appreciation of the peace I have with You that came at a great cost. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.

  1. A version of this devotional first appeared on StaceyWeeks.com December 2021.


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