Trust

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)

Rest Isn’t Weakness

/ Baylee Snelling / 2 Comments

This has been a hard week for me.

And if I’m honest,
I don’t always know what to do with that.

Because I’ve spent a long time believing
that being tired meant I wasn’t handling things well enough.

That if I were stronger,
more disciplined,
more capable—

I wouldn’t feel so worn down sometimes.

So I push through it.

I try to stay productive.
Stay positive.
Stay okay.

And most of the time,
I don’t even talk about how tired I really am.

Because somewhere along the way,
I started associating rest with weakness.

But there comes a point
where your mind, your body, even your spirit
start asking for something different.

Not more effort.

Just rest.

And I’m starting to realize
that surrendering to rest
doesn’t mean I’m giving up.

It means I’m human.

It means I was never meant
to carry everything endlessly
without stopping to breathe.

And maybe resting isn’t weakness after all.

Maybe it’s trust.

Trust that the world won’t fall apart
if I stop striving for a moment.

Trust that God can hold things together
even when I finally let myself be still.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28 (NIV)

The Version of Me I Used to Picture

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I used to picture adulthood differently.

Not in a big, dramatic way.

Just… more certain.

I thought by this point in my life,
I would feel more settled in my decisions.
More confident in where things were headed.
More sure of how everything would turn out.

And sometimes I think about that version of me—
the one I imagined years ago—
and wonder what she would think of the life I’m living now.

Not because it’s bad.

Just because it’s different.

There are parts of my life
I never would have predicted.

Parts that stretched me.
Parts that humbled me.
Parts that forced me to become someone stronger than I planned on needing to be.

And honestly?

I think the younger version of me
would be surprised by how much beauty can still exist
inside a life that didn’t go according to plan.

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”
— Proverbs 16:9 (NIV)

He’s Been Good to Me

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I’ve been thinking about this lately.

How He’s been good to me.

Not in a loud, obvious way.
Not in a way that makes everything easy
or ties everything together the way I would choose—
because it hasn’t been easy.

But in the ways that matter.

In the way I’ve been carried
through things I couldn’t have carried alone.

In the way I’ve been steadied
when I didn’t feel steady on my own.

In the way I’ve been protected
in places I didn’t even realize I needed it.

And I don’t think I always noticed it at the time.

Because I was looking for something different.

Something clearer.
Something that made more sense.

But looking back, I can see it.

Not everything turned out the way I thought it would.

Not everything was restored the way I hoped.

But even in that—

He’s been good to me.

And I think that’s what I’m learning.

That His goodness isn’t always measured
by how things turn out.

Sometimes it’s measured
by how He holds you through it.

“Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life…”
— Psalm 23:6 (NIV)

I Said It Out Loud

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I said it out loud for the first time.

“I sometimes feel like I don’t fully trust God.”

I had never said those words before.

Not because I didn’t feel them.
But because I was afraid to.

Afraid that saying it out loud
would make it more real.
Afraid it would mean something about my faith
that I didn’t want to be true.

So I kept it quiet.

But when I finally said it—
just plainly, without trying to soften it—

something unexpected happened.

I felt relief.

Not because I suddenly had all the answers.
Not because everything shifted in that moment.

But because I wasn’t carrying it alone anymore.

And I started to understand something.

It wasn’t that I didn’t trust God.

It was that I didn’t trust myself
to let go.

To release the things I’ve been holding so tightly—
the hurt,
the worry,
the fear,
the need to understand what will happen next.

Because letting go feels like losing control.

But the truth is,
I was never holding control to begin with.

And maybe that’s what I’m learning.

That honesty doesn’t weaken my faith.

It brings it into the light.

And when it’s there—
it doesn’t hold the same weight it did in the dark.

“I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!”
— Mark 9:24 (NIV)

I Keep Reaching for an Answer

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I keep reaching for an answer.

Not out loud.
Not in a way anyone would notice.

Just internally —
trying to line things up in a way that makes sense.

If I think about it long enough,
if I look at it from enough angles,
maybe I’ll find the piece that explains everything.

But I don’t.

And I’m starting to notice that I do this
almost automatically.

Something doesn’t make sense,
and my first instinct is to solve it.

To understand it.

To make it feel settled in my mind
so I can feel settled in myself.

But some things don’t give you that.

Some things stay unresolved
longer than you want them to.

Longer than feels comfortable.

And I think that’s the part I’ve been wrestling with.

Not the situation itself.

But the fact that I can’t make it make sense.

Because faith, for me, has always felt connected to understanding.

Like if I trust God,
things should eventually come together in a way I can follow.

But lately, it hasn’t looked like that.

It’s looked like continuing
without the explanation.

Letting things sit unfinished
without forcing them into something they’re not.

And trusting — not that I’ll figure it out —
but that I don’t have to.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord.
— Isaiah 55:8–9 (NIV)

Before Sunday Comes

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

There’s a part of the story we don’t rush through.

The part where everything looks like it’s over.

Where what was hoped for
what was prayed for
what was believed in

is now… gone.

Good Friday isn’t a hopeful day.

It’s not a day of answers.
It’s not a day where things make sense.

It’s the day everything falls quiet
after the worst has already happened.

And if I’m honest,
I think that’s the part I recognize the most.

Not the resurrection.
Not yet.

This part.

The part where you’re left standing
in the reality of what is
with no clear picture of what comes next.

Where faith doesn’t feel strong
it just feels… present.

Still there.
But quieter.

Not fixing anything.
Not explaining anything.

Just staying.

Good Friday doesn’t rush to meaning.

It doesn’t try to redeem anything yet.

It simply holds the weight of what has happened.

And maybe there are moments in life
that look more like this day than we want them to.

Moments where nothing feels good
and nothing feels resolved
and nothing is being put back together yet.

But the story doesn’t end here.

Even if it feels like it does.

“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”
— Luke 23:46 (NIV)

Not Everything Gets Given Back

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I read something today about Job.

That God didn’t give him his old life back —
He gave him a new one.

That some pain isn’t explained,
it’s redeemed.

And I’ve been sitting with that.

Because if I’m honest,
I think part of me still expects life to circle back.

To return what was lost.
To restore things the way they were.
To make it all make sense in a way I recognize.

But that’s not always how it works.

Sometimes what’s gone
doesn’t come back the same way.

Sometimes there isn’t a clear explanation.
No moment where everything is tied together neatly.

And that’s the part that’s hard to sit with.

Because redemption doesn’t always look like replacement.

It doesn’t always feel like more.
It doesn’t always come in a way you can immediately recognize as good.

Sometimes it’s quieter than that.

Sometimes it looks like continuing.
Like rebuilding without having all the pieces.
Like learning to hold both what was
and what is now
at the same time.

I don’t know that I fully understand redemption yet.

But I’m starting to see
that it isn’t always about getting something back.

Sometimes it’s about becoming someone
who can keep moving forward
even without it.

“I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten…”
— Joel 2:25 (NIV)

Holding On by a Thread

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I read something today that caught me off guard.

“I might be hanging on by a thread,
but it’s the thread of His garment.”

I don’t think I’ve ever thought about faith like that before.

We talk about strong faith.
Confident faith.
Faith that doesn’t waver.

But that’s not always what it looks like in real life.

Sometimes it looks thin.

Like you’re not holding everything together —
you’re just holding on.

And not even tightly.

Just enough to stay connected.

That’s what stood out to me.

Not the strength of it.
The smallness of it.

Because the woman who reached for Jesus’ garment
wasn’t making a statement.

She wasn’t trying to prove anything.

She was just trying to reach Him
in the only way she could.

And somehow, that was enough.

Not because her faith was impressive.
But because it was directed at the right place.

I think that’s what I forget.

That it doesn’t have to feel big.
Or strong.
Or even steady.

Sometimes it just has to be there.

A thread.

Not holding everything together —
just holding on to Him.

“If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed.”
— Mark 5:28 (NIV)

The Part We Want to Rush Through

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I came across something today that made me pause.

For a season, David was a shepherd.
The next, he was king.

For a season, Ruth was working in the fields.
The next, she was part of something she never could have arranged on her own.

For a season, Mordecai sat outside the palace.
The next, he was brought inside.

It’s easy to read stories like that
and focus on how everything changed.

How quickly things turned.
How differently it all ended.

But that’s not how they lived it.

They lived it in the middle.

In the parts that didn’t feel significant yet.
In the waiting.
In the uncertainty.
In the seasons that probably felt uncomfortable and unclear.

And if I’m honest,
that’s the part I struggle with the most.

I don’t like sitting in seasons that don’t make sense.
I don’t like the feeling of not knowing what God is doing.
I don’t like the stretch, the tension, the waiting.

I want to move through it.
Get to the next thing.
Understand it already.

But when I read stories like these,
I’m reminded of something I don’t always want to remember.

God does some of His deepest work
in the seasons I’m most tempted to rush through.

Not after them.
Not once everything is resolved.

But right there —
in the discomfort.

In the parts that feel slow.
In the places that don’t look like anything is happening yet.

The shepherding.
The field work.
The sitting outside.

None of it was wasted.

And maybe the part I’m standing in right now
isn’t something to escape as quickly as possible.

Maybe it’s something to pay attention to.

Because it might be the very place
God is doing the work I’ll one day be grateful for.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work
— James 1:2–4 (NIV)