Day 114

Judges 15–17 | Acts 11

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They couldn’t believe it.

The Holy Spirit had fallen—on Gentiles. Outsiders. People with the wrong bloodline and no circumcision certificate.

And Peter? He’d eaten with them. Taught them. Baptized them.

So when he returned to Jerusalem, the insiders pulled him aside: “You went to uncircumcised men and ate with them?” (Acts 11:3)

As if to say, “God doesn’t move like that.”

But He did.

And Peter’s answer was as humble as it was powerful:

“Who was I to stand in God’s way?” (Acts 11:17)

He didn’t argue.

He didn’t strategize.

He just told the truth: God moved. I followed.

Because sometimes, the greatest act of obedience isn’t speaking up.

It’s stepping aside.

The God We Try to Manage

Judges 17 tells a very different story.

Micah wants God close—but on his terms.

So he builds a shrine. Makes a few household gods.

Even hires a Levite to be his personal priest.

“Now I know that the Lord will prosper me,” he says, “because I have a Levite as priest.” (Judges 17:13)

Translation: I built the system. I checked the boxes. I locked God in.

It looks spiritual.

But it’s all control.

No prayer. No Word. No surrender.

Just superstition in a religious wrapper.

And before I judge Micah too quickly—I have to ask: How often do I do the same?

What Categories Have I Built?

Have I decided who God can use?

What His timing should be?

How He’ll speak to me?

What “growth” should look like in my life?

Have I boxed Him into systems I’m more comfortable managing than surrendering to?

Do I want the wildness of the Spirit, or just the predictability of religion?

Because when God breaks through my categories, I have two options:

• Step back and worship, or

• Double down and protect my box.

Peter let the walls fall.

Micah kept propping them up.

Surrender Is Hard—But It’s Holy

The hardest part about surrender isn’t sacrifice.

It’s release.

It’s letting go of the image I’ve curated.

The path I’ve mapped.

The expectations I’ve framed as “godly,” but are really just familiar.

It’s saying what Peter said:

“Who was I to stand in God’s way?”

Not as a cop-out.

But as a confession.

Because God will move with or without my permission.

But He invites me to participate, not just observe.

When God Moves in Unexpected Places

I wonder if there are places in my life right now—relationships, routines, opportunities—where the Spirit is nudging, and I’m resisting because “God doesn’t work like that.”

But what if He does?

What if He’s already moving…

…in the people I’ve written off?

…in the interruptions I’m trying to avoid?

…in the invitations I’m too proud or scared to accept?

Or even… in the panic I didn’t see coming?

I haven’t struggled with PTSD since my run-in with the table saw. Not once. Not in the hospital when the floor I was on was under renovation. Not even now, when my neighbor’s saws whir loudly from the other side of our fence.

Last night, after Talacey and Sophia went to bed, I watched an episode of Sheriffs: El Dorado County—alone in the dark.

And something broke open.

The sound of the helicopter blades. The sight of them lifting into the dark sky. Suddenly I was back in that November night.

Suddenly my heart raced. My chest tightened. My eyes flooded with tears and wouldn’t stop.

And I didn’t expect it.

But maybe that’s the point.

Maybe God was moving—even there. In the pain I thought I had packaged. In the fear I thought I had filed away.

Because sometimes, what He’s trying to break through isn’t just theological or institutional.

Sometimes, it’s personal.

Not just in our theology, but in our trauma.

Not just in our thinking, but in our trembling.

Not just in the parts we offer Him, but in the parts we’ve hidden from ourselves.

Because even there—even in the places we thought were healed or buried—He comes gently, powerfully, unexpectedly… and moves.

Micah tried to manage God.

Peter let God break through.

Only one of those men saw the Spirit fall.

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Lord, forgive me for building boxes You never asked to live in. Tear down every assumption I’ve made about how You work, who You use, and where You lead. Give me eyes to see when You’re moving—especially when it challenges what I expect. I don’t want to get in the way. I want to go where You go. Speak, Spirit. I’m listening.

Amen.