spiritual growth

I Used to Think Contentment Meant Settling

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

For a long time, I thought contentment meant settling.

Like if I became too content with where I was,
I’d stop growing.

I’d stop dreaming.

I’d stop reaching for more.

But I’ve started to think I misunderstood contentment.

Maybe contentment isn’t deciding there’s nothing left to pursue.

Maybe it’s refusing to believe that joy only exists somewhere else.

Somewhere after the next accomplishment.

The next opportunity.

The next season.

The next answered prayer.

I think we spend a lot of our lives looking toward the horizon.

And there’s nothing wrong with having hope for what’s ahead.

But I wonder how much beauty we miss because we’re always looking past today.

Contentment doesn’t erase ambition.

It gives it a healthy foundation.

It quietly says,

“I’m grateful for what God has placed in my hands today, while remaining open to whatever He places there tomorrow.”

Those two things can exist together.

Maybe they were always meant to.

Maybe contentment isn’t the end of becoming.

Maybe it’s the place from which we become.

“I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.”
— Philippians 4:11 (NIV)

I Don’t Think God Is in a Hurry

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I’ve been thinking about how often I find myself in a hurry.

A hurry to understand.

A hurry to heal.

A hurry to know what’s next.

A hurry to become the person I hope I’ll be.

And then I read through Scripture.

God doesn’t seem to be in a hurry.

He spends years preparing people for the very thing He promised them.

He works through seasons that look quiet.

He allows waiting that feels uncomfortable.

Not because He’s absent.

But because He’s never rushed what He intends to make lasting.

I wonder how much of my frustration comes from expecting God to work on my timeline instead of trusting His.

Because if I’m honest, I usually want answers more quickly than I want wisdom.

I want outcomes more quickly than I want transformation.

But God seems far more interested in forming hearts than shortening timelines.

And strangely…

there’s peace in that.

Not because I suddenly understand everything.

But because I’m slowly learning that God’s pace has never been a reflection of His love.

Only His wisdom.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.”
— Ecclesiastes 3:11 (NIV)

Maybe You Haven’t Met All of Yourself Yet

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I used to think becoming meant adding something I didn’t already have.

More confidence.

More courage.

More ability.

But lately, I’ve started to wonder if becoming is less about adding…

…and more about uncovering.

About recognizing gifts that have been there all along.

Potential that was buried beneath self-doubt.

Strength that only revealed itself when life demanded it.

For a long time, I believed the voice that said,

“You’re not ready yet.”

“You’re not qualified.”

“Someone else could do it better.”

And maybe you’ve heard those voices too.

But what if they were never telling the whole truth?

What if there’s more in you than you’ve allowed yourself to see?

Not because you’re extraordinary.

Not because you’ve suddenly become someone different.

But because God has always seen something in you that you were slow to recognize in yourself.

He doesn’t call us because we’ve already become everything we’re capable of becoming.

He calls us knowing who we’re still growing into.

Maybe that’s why Scripture is filled with ordinary people who initially questioned themselves.

They saw their limitations.

God saw who they could become in His hands.

And I wonder how often we spend our lives arguing with the One who made us about what we’re capable of.

Maybe today is a good day to stop doing that.

Not with arrogance.

With gratitude.

Because seeing the potential God placed within you isn’t pride.

It’s stewardship.

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”
— Ephesians 2:10 (NIV)

I Am Chosen to Be His

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There are days when circumstances try to tell us who we are.

A difficult season says we’re forgotten.

A disappointment says we’re overlooked.

A failure says we’re not enough.

A closed door says we’re unwanted.

And if we’re not careful, we start listening.

We allow temporary circumstances
to become permanent conclusions.

But lately, I’ve been returning to a simple truth:

I am chosen to be His.

Not because everything is going according to plan.

Not because life feels easy.

Not because every prayer has been answered the way I hoped.

I am chosen to be His regardless.

Before the outcome.

Before the breakthrough.

Before the explanation.

Before the healing.

Before any of the things I keep waiting on.

And there is something incredibly freeing about that.

Because if my identity comes from Him,
then it doesn’t rise and fall with my circumstances.

A difficult season cannot take away what God has already declared.

An unanswered question cannot undo what He has already spoken.

A hard chapter cannot change whose I am.

The world may change.

My circumstances may change.

My emotions may change.

But this remains:

I am chosen to be His.

And that is enough.

“For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight.”
— Ephesians 1:4 (NIV)

Feelings Make Terrible Historians

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I’ve learned that feelings are excellent messengers.

But terrible historians.

They tell me what this moment feels like.

They tell me what hurts.

What excites me.

What overwhelms me.

What brings me joy.

But they don’t always tell the whole story.

Because a difficult day can convince me that everything is difficult.

A lonely moment can convince me that I’m alone.

A fearful thought can convince me that I’m unsafe.

And if I’m not careful, I start building conclusions from emotions that were only meant to deliver information.

I’ve had days where I felt forgotten.

And later remembered all the ways I wasn’t.

Days where I felt overwhelmed.

And later saw how much grace had been holding me up.

Days where I felt stuck.

And later realized I was moving forward the entire time.

That’s why I’m grateful that truth doesn’t shift with my emotions.

Because some days my feelings are accurate.

And some days they’re incomplete.

And on those days, I need something steadier than how I happen to feel.

I need truth.

And I’m learning that faith often looks like remembering what is true, even when my emotions are telling a smaller story.

“All your words are true; all your righteous laws are eternal.”
— Psalm 119:160 (NIV)

Hungry for More

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

Lately, I’ve felt hungry for more.

Not more stuff.

Not more achievement.

Not even more time.

Just more.

More stillness.

More patience.

More energy.

More confidence.

More purpose in the work I do.

More awareness of the opportunities God places in front of me.

And for a while, I wondered if that made me ungrateful.

Because I have so much to be thankful for.

But I don’t think gratitude and hunger are opposites.

I think sometimes they exist together.

I can be grateful for where I am
while still believing God isn’t finished growing me.

I can appreciate this season
while still feeling drawn toward something deeper.

Maybe that’s what hunger is.

Not dissatisfaction.

Invitation.

“You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek you; I thirst for you, my whole being longs for you…”
— Psalm 63:1 (NIV)

Trusting or Analyzing?

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I’m starting to wonder if sometimes I’ve mistaken analyzing for trusting.

I tell myself I’m processing.

Thinking things through.
Trying to understand.
Trying to prepare for every possible outcome.
Trying to make sense of things that don’t make sense.

And to a point, that’s healthy.

But eventually there comes a moment when all the thinking stops producing clarity.

And starts producing exhaustion.

A moment when I’m no longer seeking understanding.

I’m seeking control.

Because if I can understand it,
I can predict it.

If I can predict it,
I can prepare for it.

And if I can prepare for it,
maybe it won’t hurt so much.

But that’s not trust.

Trust doesn’t require me to know every outcome.

Trust doesn’t demand an explanation for every uncertainty.

Trust says:

I don’t know exactly how this unfolds, but I know Who does.

And honestly?

I think that’s where I get stuck sometimes.

Not because I don’t trust God.

But because I trust my own analysis more than His ability to hold what I can’t understand.

And that’s a difficult thing to admit.

Because there are situations in life that simply refuse to fit neatly into a spreadsheet.

Questions that don’t get answered on my timeline.

Problems that can’t be solved by thinking about them one more time.

At some point, faith asks me to set down the calculator.

Not because understanding is bad.

But because understanding was never meant to replace trust.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.”
— Proverbs 3:5 (NIV)

God Has Been Patient With Me

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

The more life I experience,
the more I notice how patient God has been with me.

Patient in my waiting.
Patient in my overthinking.
Patient in the ways I’ve circled the same fears more than once.

And honestly,
I don’t think I always extend that same patience to myself.

I expect myself to heal faster.
Trust quicker.
Understand things immediately.

I get frustrated when I feel like I’m still struggling with something
I thought I should’ve moved past already.

But God doesn’t seem to respond to us that way.

Over and over throughout scripture,
He remains steady with people while they learn.

While they doubt.
While they wander.
While they ask the same questions again and again.

And maybe that’s part of grace too.

Not just that we’re loved.

But that we’re loved patiently.

Not rushed.
Not discarded when growth takes time.

Just gently led forward,
again and again.

“As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed…”
— Psalm 103:13–14 (NIV)

It Changed the Way I Saw Hardship

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I heard someone say recently,

“The devil doesn’t need to make life harder
for those who are already his.”

And while I don’t think life is always that simple,
the statement stayed with me.

Because for a long time,
I think part of me believed
that following God closely
would eventually lead to an easier life.

More peace.
More clarity.
Less resistance.

But that’s not actually what Scripture promises.

If anything,
some of the people closest to God in the Bible
walked through tremendous suffering.

Not because God abandoned them.

But because hardship and holiness
have never been mutually exclusive.

And honestly,
that changed the way I started viewing difficult seasons.

Not as proof that God is absent.
Not as punishment.
Not as failure.

But as part of living in a broken world
while still trying to remain anchored to Him inside of it.

Because faith was never about avoiding hardship.

It was about knowing Who remains beside you through it.

“In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
— John 16:33 (NIV)

The Flowers I Didn’t Plant

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I’ve been thinking about the things that grow in us
that we never intentionally planted.

Not strength itself—
I’ve spent years trying to become stronger.

Physically.
Mentally.
Emotionally.

But there are other things
I didn’t realize were growing too.

Discernment.
Resilience.
Perspective.

A deeper understanding of myself.
Of people.
Of God.

Somehow, they grew quietly in the background
while I was busy just trying to make it through certain seasons.

And that’s what surprises me sometimes—

How growth can happen
simultaneously with grief.

You don’t always notice it immediately.

You’re too close to it.
Too inside of it.

But one day you look at yourself
and realize something exists in you now
that didn’t before.

Not because you chased it.

But because God was still growing things
even in seasons that felt uncertain.

Maybe that’s the strange beauty of life.

That even painful seasons
can leave something beautifully meaningful behind.

Flowers we never meant to plant.

“We also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.”
— Romans 5:3–4 (NIV)