Remembering Where to Look

Early on, Josh and I started asking what the Lord might be teaching us in this season. We have our best conversations on the greenway, and lately our long walks have made one thing clear: there is no shortage of things for Him to refine.

As a young believer, I was confident that one day I’d arrive. That I’d be mature, understanding so much, with little left to learn. Pride is so delightfully oblivious.

Now I know something different. The longer I walk with Jesus, the closer I get to Him. And the closer I get to Him, the more clearly I see myself, and there will always be more to learn. One lesson that has been rising to the surface lately is this: what, and who, we fix our eyes on matters.

Scripture has a lot to say about our eyes.

The eye is the lamp of the body. So, if your eye is healthy, your whole body will be full of light. Matthew 6:22

For we walk by faith, not by sight. 2 Corinthians 5:7

And this, which has been a steady refrain in my heart:

I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. Psalm 121:1–2

What we behold, we become, and it is so easy to behold the mess, to fix our eyes on circumstances, and let our emotions follow. On one particularly messy day, I was journaling through Galatians and got stuck here:

So then, as we have opportunity, let us do good to everyone, and especially to those who are of the household of faith. Galatians 6:9–10

I stopped and prayed, not for clarity, not for comfort, but for opportunity. An opportunity to do good instead of sitting in worry and frustration. Naturally, I had ideas of what that might look like. Hospitality for a new family at church. Coffee with a student asking big questions. A meal for a family with full hands.

But about thirty minutes later, I got a message. An invitation to come to The Gambia, West Africa. A friend, walking through her own messy, unexpected season, simply asked: Can you come help?

And the answer was yes.

The logistics were complicated. The travel was brutal. The work was hard (and very, very hot). But it was also a gift, an answer to prayer, an opportunity to lift my eyes, to fix them on something better, to do good to a sister in the household of faith.

When I fix my eyes on my circumstances, everything feels unstable. When I fix my eyes on the Lord, I find my footing again, not by changing my situation, but by stepping into something He’s already prepared. This time, it looked like saying yes.

Yes to days in a village that stretched me in ways I didn’t expect. Yes to the chaos and unpredictability of ferry crossings that felt like their own kind of lesson in surrender. Yes to long, dusty roads, hard conversations, deep laughter, and even, somehow, a walk with lions (yes, actual lions!).

It wasn’t what I would have planned, but it was exactly what I had prayed for. I’m still learning that sometimes, the way God answers our prayers isn’t by calming the mess, but by calling us out of it, into something bigger.

How are you feeling?

It’s a simple question.

Answers are anything but simple.

Most days, I feel joy and gratitude. I feel anchored in who God is. Some days, I cry and don’t really know why. Other days, I’m frustrated by the perishable nature of this mortal body. And sometimes…I’m fine. Whatever that means. There’s a tension to living by faith, a constant wrestling between the already and the not yet.