The Morning Practice

The “feels like” temperature was twenty-seven degrees at the river’s edge this morning, and I still went, watching for the sunrise. Still seeking the God who is. Still trying to trust His timing instead of forcing mine.

My journal gave me Psalm 18:2 today: “The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.” I sat between the jetties—rocks formed by the Rock—and drank in His creation. In those early hours before the sun crests, this is where I come. Day after day. Because His mercies are new every morning, and I’m learning to trust His word even when I can’t see what’s next.

My Mom’s Wisdom

My mom gave me some unexpected advice yesterday. Lord knows, she has wisdom in spades as she celebrates her seventy-fifth birthday this weekend. “For the next month, try to hold off on analyzing everything. Just be in the moment.”

I considered her suggestion, and it had merit. With Thanksgiving and Christmas just around the corner, it would be nice to settle into the cheer of the season. Admittedly, I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to find future resolution beyond my control, probing a timeline I can’t see. Some things I’m praying will happen. Others I’m praying won’t. The tension between those two prayers is exhausting.

Last week, I wondered if I could ever experience joy with so many unknowns littered in the future. My argument made sense: change the circumstances, and I could be “Laura Joy,” full of joy.

Walking by Faith, Not by Sight

Pastor Colin is doing a sermon series from Habakkuk, and this week, he preached about how Christians walk by faith, not by sight. His first point was that faith trusts God’s word, and that’s why it’s so important to set aside time to commune with God. Every morning at the river’s edge—even when the wind chill makes it twenty-seven degrees—I do exactly that. My journal. The sunrise. God’s word meeting me in the cold.

His second point hit harder: faith trusts God’s timing.

At once, I was convicted. Swiftly and surely.

For so many years as a single woman praying for a husband and children, I was wholly dependent on trusting God’s timing. Perhaps I thought once I had a family, I could sit back on my laurels, contented with answered prayer, and never again experience the need to pray and wait in faith where hope’s obscured.

The Dream That Didn’t End

As a little girl, I wanted to grow up to be just like my mom—a woman after God’s own heart. I wanted to get married and have kids and be a teacher, just like her. At twelve, no one could have told me I’d be single and childless at forty. I thought it was a realistic dream.

Even now, married, I understand there are no guarantees. Trying to get pregnant over the past year has been an emotional rollercoaster of its own. That biological clock that was ticking in singlehood still manages to manifest fear of the future in the present. The waiting didn’t end with marriage—it just changed shape.

Does that fear trust God’s timing?

Where Sanctuary Lives

It would be amazing to rest comfortably in the security of our little family unit and proceed joyfully through my days. But trusting that security? That’s walking by sight.

Sanctuary, I’m learning, isn’t the absence of uncertainty. It’s not found in answered prayers staying answered or circumstances finally settling into place. Sanctuary is the practice of returning to God in the midst of unknowns—the daily choice to sit between the rocks and seek the Rock.

Every morning at the jetties, I find it. Not because the waiting is over, but because God meets me there. The cold doesn’t matter. The unanswered questions don’t disappear. But He is faithful, and that faithfulness becomes sanctuary when I stop demanding to see the timeline and simply trust that He’s working at the appointed time for His glory and my good.

The Confession

I’ve become so faithless. I try to conjure structure, routine, normalcy, stability. I carefully order my life with intense forward-planning to avoid needing to put faith in anyone, including God. When that order is threatened, my faith itself is tested.

Can I have faith that God is working even when I don’t understand? Can I trust the Master will deliver me safely to the other side, like Pastor Colin says? The story of the Bible is that God justifies those with faith as a means of bestowing righteousness.

Trusting God’s providence—that He’ll work at the appointed time for His glory and my good? That’s walking by faith.

Tomorrow Morning

Tomorrow morning, I’ll be back at the jetties. The temperature will be what it will be. The unknowns will still be unknown. I’ll be there anyway, between the rocks, seeking the Rock.

Not because I’ve figured out how to stop analyzing or controlling. Not because Mama Joy’s advice magically solved my need for certainty. No, it’s because that daily return—showing up in the cold, opening God’s word, waiting for the sun to crest—that’s what faith looks like.

That’s where I find sanctuary. Not in the answers I’m waiting for, but in the God who holds them.