There’s this moment I still remember, sitting in the parking lot, with my head on the steering wheel. I had just gotten news I didn’t want—news that didn’t make sense, didn’t seem fair, and didn’t fit the plan I had in mind. I felt like I'd done everything “right,” and yet somehow, the story had taken a turn I never would’ve chosen.
I prayed, but honestly, it felt like my words were just bouncing around the inside of the car. I couldn’t see how this would work out for good. And if I’m being real, I didn’t like the story God was writing in that moment.
Maybe you’ve been there too. Maybe you're there right now—walking through a chapter that feels heavy, confusing, or downright unfair. Maybe you've been praying, reading Scripture, trying to trust, but it feels like God is distant and quiet.
So how do we trust God in those moments? How do we let go of the wheel when everything in us wants to grip it tighter?
The answer isn't easy, but it's simple: we trust who God is, even when we can’t trace what He’s doing. Proverbs 3:5-6 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
It’s interesting—God doesn’t say “understand Me with all your heart.” He says “trust Me.” And the older I get, the more I realize trusting God means giving up the illusion of control. It means releasing the need to make sense of everything, and instead believing that God is still good—even in the middle of the storm, even in the silence.
In Mark 4 we read a story where Jesus is in the boat with His disciples when a storm breaks out. The waves are crashing, the boat is filling with water, and where’s Jesus? Asleep. Head on a cushion. Totally unbothered. The disciples wake Him up, panicked. “Don’t you care if we drown?”
Jesus gets up, speaks peace over the storm, and then looks at them and asks: “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”
Notice that the storm didn’t wake Jesus up. But the cries of His disciples did. That tells me God isn’t distant. He’s not disconnected from our pain or confusion. He hears us. He’s present—even when it feels like He’s asleep in the boat.
So if you're in one of those moments where life feels out of control—where you’re not sure what’s next or how it’s going to work out—here’s what I try to remind myself in those moments:
You don’t have to understand the storm to trust the One in the boat with you.
You can trust Him—even here.
peace,
Nick
Art: detail of "The Storm on the Sea of Galilee" by Roman Sleptsuk
I prayed, but honestly, it felt like my words were just bouncing around the inside of the car. I couldn’t see how this would work out for good. And if I’m being real, I didn’t like the story God was writing in that moment.
Maybe you’ve been there too. Maybe you're there right now—walking through a chapter that feels heavy, confusing, or downright unfair. Maybe you've been praying, reading Scripture, trying to trust, but it feels like God is distant and quiet.
So how do we trust God in those moments? How do we let go of the wheel when everything in us wants to grip it tighter?
The answer isn't easy, but it's simple: we trust who God is, even when we can’t trace what He’s doing. Proverbs 3:5-6 says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
It’s interesting—God doesn’t say “understand Me with all your heart.” He says “trust Me.” And the older I get, the more I realize trusting God means giving up the illusion of control. It means releasing the need to make sense of everything, and instead believing that God is still good—even in the middle of the storm, even in the silence.
In Mark 4 we read a story where Jesus is in the boat with His disciples when a storm breaks out. The waves are crashing, the boat is filling with water, and where’s Jesus? Asleep. Head on a cushion. Totally unbothered. The disciples wake Him up, panicked. “Don’t you care if we drown?”
Jesus gets up, speaks peace over the storm, and then looks at them and asks: “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”
Notice that the storm didn’t wake Jesus up. But the cries of His disciples did. That tells me God isn’t distant. He’s not disconnected from our pain or confusion. He hears us. He’s present—even when it feels like He’s asleep in the boat.
So if you're in one of those moments where life feels out of control—where you’re not sure what’s next or how it’s going to work out—here’s what I try to remind myself in those moments:
You don’t have to understand the storm to trust the One in the boat with you.
Let go of needing to have all the answers.
Let go of the belief that your peace is tied to your plans going your way.
And grab hold of the hand of a God who is always good, always near, and always in control—even when we aren’t.
You can trust Him—even here.
peace,
Nick
Art: detail of "The Storm on the Sea of Galilee" by Roman Sleptsuk