uncertainty

Just Enough Light

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

I keep asking God for a map, but Scripture promises me a lamp.

Those aren’t the same thing.

A map would tell me where I’m going. It would show me the turns ahead, how far I have left to travel, and how where I am now connects to where I’m eventually going.

A lamp offers something different. Its light is limited to what is close enough to see.

I’ve read Psalm 119:105 countless times:

“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.”

I’ve always thought of that verse as a promise that God will guide me. And it is. But lately I’ve been paying more attention to the kind of guidance it describes.

There is nothing in that verse about seeing the entire journey.

And if I’m honest, that’s usually what I want.

I want to know how things are going to work out before I have to live through them. I want certainty about decisions. I want to know where something is leading and what waits around the corner.

I want enough information that trusting God doesn’t feel quite so uncertain.

But maybe that’s exactly why the image of a lamp matters.

God doesn’t always give us clarity about everything ahead. Sometimes He gives us what we need for today.

Wisdom for the decision in front of us.

Grace for the circumstances we’re actually living.

Truth for the questions we can answer now.

And perhaps I’ve spent too much time believing I need to understand the whole road before I can trust the One leading me.

I don’t.

There will always be things I can’t see from where I’m standing.

Maybe faith isn’t about seeing farther.

Maybe it’s about trusting God with what I can’t see while being faithful with what I can.

I keep asking Him for a map.

But maybe the lamp was enough all along.

“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.”
— Psalm 119:105 (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)