Day 42

Exodus 33–34 | Romans 6

“Moses said, ‘Please show me Your glory.’” (Exodus 33:18)

I walked into that first therapy appointment five days after leaving the hospital, still in a full splint, still in pain, still entirely unable to do anything for myself. My mother-in-law, Sandy, a physical therapist, made a call to get me in with Lindsay—the best hand and shoulder therapist in central California.

Lindsay, a fellow believer originally from South Africa, had no reason to clear her schedule for me. She was booked far in advance. But by the grace of God, she made room.

So there I was, sitting in her clinic, looking at my mangled, stitched-up hand, my index and middle fingers pinned, my ring finger lacerated, my pinky covered with a foil dressing where the nail had been ripped off, my fresh skin grafts still raw—uncertain if they would even take. That day, I wasn’t there for dramatic improvement. I was there to manage expectations.

I asked Lindsay leading questions, trying to get her to confirm what I had already decided in my mind—that at some point, my newly-reattached middle finger would probably need to be amputated. That the damage was too severe. That I needed to start adjusting to my new normal.

Lindsay didn’t even hesitate. She looked me in the eye and, in her beautiful South African accent, said:

“Grant, we pray for full and complete recovery—and nothing less.”

And I sat there stunned.

Because I came expecting limitation. But she came expecting God to move.

I was already preparing myself for loss. She was already praying for full healing.

I had been bracing for disappointment. She was boldly asking for more.

And when I read Exodus 33 today, I realize—I was praying like someone who just wanted to get by. But Moses? He prayed like someone who wanted everything.

“Moses said, ‘Please show me Your glory.’” (Exodus 33:18)

He didn’t ask for reassurance. He didn’t ask for a miracle. He didn’t ask for comfort in the wilderness.

He asked for all of God. As much of His presence as he could handle.

And I wonder—how often do I come to God with small, safe prayers? How often do I ask for just enough to get through, rather than boldly asking to see His glory in full?

We pray for survival when God offers transformation.

We pray for relief when He wants to reveal Himself.

We beg for breadcrumbs when He’s ready to show us the feast.

Romans 6 reminds me why this matters.

“For if we have been united with Him in a death like His, we shall certainly be united with Him in a resurrection like His.” (Romans 6:5)

God isn’t in the business of making small improvements. He is in the business of resurrection. Complete renewal. Full restoration. Not just for our bodies, but for our souls.

And yet, I pray like someone trying to negotiate a partial refund instead of someone who has been given the entire store.

That day in therapy, Lindsay’s boldness corrected me.

I wanted her to confirm my doubt. Instead, she challenged my faith.

I wanted her to help me accept my limitations. Instead, she pointed me to the God who has none.

I don’t know what the rest of my recovery will look like. But I do know this—I don’t want to live my life asking God for just enough.

I want to pray like Moses.

I want to expect more of God—not because I deserve it, but because He delights in revealing Himself to those who ask.

“Please show me Your glory.”

Lord, forgive me for praying small prayers. Teach me to seek more of You, not just what feels reasonable or safe. Give me boldness to ask, faith to believe, and the humility to trust You with the outcome. Let my life be marked by an expectation of Your presence. Amen.