Day 152

1 Chronicles 13–15 | 1 Corinthians 10:1–22

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Nine days from now, I’ll be back on the operating table.

Another surgery. Another round of scalpels and sutures and anesthesia.

This time, to cut through the scar tissue in my middle finger that’s keeping it from bending.

The surgeon calls it tenolysis. I call it more torture.

The goal is restoration—full motion. A hand that works again.

I want that.

I’ve longed for it. Prayed for it. Worked toward it.

But I’m realizing something:

Just because I want something good doesn’t mean I’m doing it right.

And wanting wholeness doesn’t automatically mean I’m walking in obedience.

Because God isn’t just after my healing.

He’s after my reverence.

What David Wanted Was Good

In 1 Chronicles 13, David had a noble desire.

He wanted to bring the ark of God into Jerusalem. To make His presence central. To honor Him.

So he did what made sense—what felt right.

He gathered a crowd. Built a cart. Started the parade.

And then Uzzah died.

Struck down on the spot when he reached out to steady the ark as the oxen stumbled.

It wasn’t rebellion. It was reflex.

But it was also irreverence.

Because God had already said how the ark should be carried. Not by oxen. Not on wheels.

But on the shoulders of consecrated men—Levites, set apart for holy things.

David didn’t do that.

He wanted the right thing—but he didn’t ask the right question.

He asked what would work.

Not what God had said.

And it cost a man his life.

What I’ve Wanted Isn’t Wrong Either

I’ve wanted to be faithful.

I’ve wanted to lead well. Provide well. Heal well.

I’ve wanted my hand back. My voice back. My footing back.

But so often, I’ve charged ahead like David—with plans and passion, but without pause.

I’ve made decisions that looked spiritual and sounded honorable—but deep down, I was still the one calling the shots.

I didn’t stop to ask if I was carrying the thing the way God asked me to.

I just wanted to get it there.

And when it all unraveled, I stood confused… wondering why something so “good” ended in grief.

But Grace

David didn’t quit. He didn’t abandon the mission.

He took time to mourn. To wrestle. To reflect.

And then he returned to the Word of God.

In chapter 15, everything changes.

He calls the priests. He gathers the Levites. He confesses his mistake:

“Because you did not carry it the first time, the Lord our God broke out against us, because we did not seek Him according to the rule.” (1 Chron. 15:13)

This time, it’s not a production. It’s obedience.

The ark is carried on shoulders.

The people move in step.

And the presence of God is honored the way God Himself prescribed.

That’s the difference between spiritual performance and spiritual reverence.

It’s not about what looks right.

It’s about what is right—because God said so.

What Paul Says Is Sobering

In 1 Corinthians 10, Paul gives a history lesson with a warning label:

“These things took place as examples for us… that we might not desire evil as they did… Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall.” (vv. 6, 12)

Paul isn’t talking to the rebellious.

He’s talking to the confident. The sincere. The ones who think they’re standing strong.

And he says: Don’t confuse momentum with faithfulness.

Don’t mistake intentions for holiness.

Don’t assume your strength will hold you.

Take heed. Be warned. Remember what happened when others thought they could handle holy things on their terms.

So What Now?

I’m not going to pretend I’ve been reverent every step of this season—because I haven’t even come close.

I’ve panicked.

I’ve overplanned.

I’ve wallowed in self pity.

I’ve tried to cart God’s will forward on my own terms—faster, smoother, more efficient.

But I’m learning to stop.

To slow down.

To carry what God has given me—not with urgency, but with awe.

Because He’s not just restoring my hand.

He’s reshaping my reverence.

And I don’t want to rush what He’s doing anymore.

What Psalm 64 Reminds Me

The psalmist was hunted. Surrounded by scheming enemies. Wounded by words.

But instead of taking matters into his own hands, he says:

“Let the righteous one rejoice in the Lord and take refuge in Him!” (v. 10)

Not rejoice in results.

Not rejoice in reputation.

Rejoice in the Lord.

Because when everything else feels out of control—He still is.

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Lord, You are holy—and I confess how often I forget that. I treat sacred things casually. I move too quickly. I act like the mission matters more than the method. Forgive me for the ways I’ve tried to steady Your plans in my own strength. For the times I’ve skipped obedience in the name of urgency. For the moments I’ve believed that good intentions were enough. Teach me to walk with reverence. To listen before I act. To obey when it’s slow. To repent when I get it wrong. You’re not just after my healing. You’re after my heart. So cut away what needs to go—scar tissue and self-righteousness. And let me carry what You’ve entrusted to me… Your way.

Amen.