Day 134

1 Chronicles 1–2 | Acts 23:23–35

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There are days when it all feels like regression.

You’re not where you were—but you’re not where you want to be either. You’ve made progress, but you can’t quite see it. And what’s ahead feels more like a return to pain than a step toward healing.

That’s where I am today.

Talacey and I are driving to San Francisco to meet with my surgeon. In three weeks, I’ll undergo my first of two tenolysis procedures—cutting through scar tissue in my right hand that’s keeping my tendons from moving freely.

I’m not looking forward to it.

Not to the swelling or soreness.

Not to the full-hand bandage in the shower.

Not to missing the pool when summer heat sinks in.

Not to the grueling therapy that restarts the very next day.

Not to the feeling that I’m stepping backward into pain just to move forward again.

But I am looking forward to what it might restore.

To the freedom I’ve lost.

To the motion I miss.

To the slow, unseen healing that God is still doing.

God Builds Over Time

That’s why I needed 1 Chronicles today.

Yes, it’s a genealogy—a long list of names, generations, descendants. But hidden in the repetition is a reminder:

God works slowly.

Not because He’s late. But because He’s deep.

He doesn’t just show up in miracles. He moves through lineages.

He weaves redemption through fractured friendships and families.

He restores relationships once torn by pride and pain.

He honors the obedience of people who never saw the outcome.

And that gives me hope.

Because progress doesn’t always feel like progress.

Sometimes it feels like paperwork and waiting rooms.

Sometimes it feels like scar tissue and slow gains.

Sometimes it feels like being one of a thousand names on a list.

Forgotten by others. But not by God.

God Protects in the Details

In Acts 23, Paul is on the move—but not by choice.

He’s under Roman guard. Escorted by 470 soldiers. It’s not dramatic. Not miraculous. Just logistical protection.

But still provision.

Because sometimes, God’s care doesn’t come with fanfare.

It comes through a detail.

A detour.

A commander’s memo.

An unexpected escort on a road you didn’t plan to take.

Paul wasn’t abandoned. He was protected.

And I’m not regressing—I’m being rebuilt.

God is in the Slow Work

The truth is—I want speed.

I want closure.

I want the finish line in sight.

But God wants something better: formation.

And the path He chooses often feels unremarkable while you’re walking it.

But one day, you’ll look back—and you’ll see His fingerprints everywhere.

The genealogies prove it.

The prison escort proves it.

This scarred, stubborn hand of mine proves it too.

So if today feels like a step backward…

If progress is hidden behind bandages, forms, or fatigue…

If the road ahead looks more like pain than promise…

Then hear this:

God is still moving.

Even when it’s slow.

Even when it’s hidden.

Even when it doesn’t look like healing yet.

His promises don’t expire.

His providence doesn’t falter.

And His faithfulness is not dependent on how fast you feel better.

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Lord, I confess—I want to be further along. I want the pain to be over. The healing to be done. The story to wrap up neatly. But You’re not in a hurry. You’re doing something deeper. So give me peace in the slow. Trust in the quiet. And joy in knowing that You are still writing my name into Your story—even when I can’t see how the pieces fit. Amen.