Day 80

Deuteronomy 7-8 | John 12:1-26

Today was a slow day.

No meetings. No urgent deadlines. Just a quiet house, a half-finished cup of coffee, and a single appointment on my calendar—one hour with my barber, Anthony.

Talacey was at work. Sophia was at school. As I sit down to write, they are at Bible study and youth group.

On slow days like this, when there’s nothing demanding my attention, my mind has a tendency to wander.

To the waiting.

Waiting for this job to end. Waiting for another to begin. Waiting for the next surgery. For tomorrow morning’s therapy session. For the mountain in front of me to move.

And as God does in His providence, when I was driving to my monthly appointment with Anthony, He put a song on the radio with lyrics that met me in that moment:

“And when You choose to leave mountains unmovable, give me the strength to be able to sing it is well with my soul.”

And that’s exactly where I am.

The mountain isn’t moving. The waiting isn’t ending. And yet, as I opened my Bible, I saw that this is exactly the kind of season God has always used to shape His people.

The Wilderness Before the Promise

In Deuteronomy 7-8, Moses speaks to God’s people as they prepare to enter the Promised Land.

He reminds them who God is:

“He is the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love.” (Deuteronomy 7:9)

He reminds them what God has done:

“You shall remember the whole way that the Lord your God has led you these forty years in the wilderness, that He might humble you, testing you to know what was in your heart.” (Deuteronomy 8:2)

And He reminds them why He allowed the waiting:

“That He might humble you and test you, to do you good in the end.” (Deuteronomy 8:16)

Because the wilderness wasn’t just about getting to the Promised Land.

It was about preparing their hearts for it.

Before the blessing came the breaking.

Before the provision came the test.

Before the Promised Land came the wilderness.

And I can’t help but see the parallel because that’s the tension I feel too. The Israelites had to trust that God’s delays were for their good. And Jesus—just days before His own suffering—points to the same truth.

But that doesn’t mean God isn’t leading me.

When the Seed Falls

Then I read John 12.

Jesus, days before His crucifixion, speaks these words:

“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12:24)

Life comes through death. Not only in nature but in the spiritual life.

It was true for Jesus—His death brought our life.

It was true for the Israelites—their wilderness wandering shaped them for the blessing to come.

And it’s true for me today.

Because the loss of my old life—the ability, the certainty, the control I once had—has forced me to trust God in a way I never have before.

And Jesus doesn’t leave His words abstract. He makes them personal:

“Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” (John 12:25)

Surrender is the way forward.

Letting go of my expectations.

Letting go of my timeline.

Letting go of what I think my life should be.

Because when I cling too tightly to what I want, I risk missing what He’s actually doing.

When the Mountain Doesn’t Move

So today, as I sit in the quiet, as I feel the weight of waiting, as I stare at the mountain that hasn’t moved—I can still say:

It is well with my soul.

Because the Lord gives and the Lord takes away.

Because He is leading me—even in the waiting.

Because He is the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love.

And because sometimes, the greatest act of faith isn’t moving the mountain.

It’s trusting the One who put it there.

Lord, I trust You in the waiting. When the mountain doesn’t move, help me to remember that You are leading me. When the path feels long, remind me that You are working all things for Your glory and my good. And when my heart wants to run ahead, teach me to rest in Your perfect plan. Amen.