Sometimes we begin a journey with a clear idea of where we’re going and how we’re going to get there. But life doesn’t always unfold according to our plans. I’ve learned that knowing God is with me doesn’t necessarily mean knowing what comes next.
More than twenty-five years ago, I felt called to establish a new parish. It was an exciting time in my life, and I wanted to prepare myself spiritually for what lay ahead. So I began a 40-day fast, spending that time in prayer and seeking God as I prepared for this new chapter.
When I started the fast, I was employed. My plan seemed straightforward. I would continue working at my regular job and spend evenings and weekends doing the work necessary to get the parish started.
But partway through those forty days, something happened that I hadn’t anticipated.
I lost my job.
It wasn’t the first time. For years, I had struggled to establish a stable career. I worked hard and genuinely believed I was doing well, only to find myself unemployed again. I had been successful at selling products, but the company wanted me to focus on services. Although I thought I was doing well, the company decided to go in another direction.
I was devastated.
Before telling Valerie, I remember going for a long walk down a main road near our home. I was crying out to God, trying to make sense of what had happened and wondering how I was going to move forward.
I don’t remember exactly what I prayed. I don’t remember receiving a particular answer. What I remember is walking down that road, pouring out my heart to God.
I knew He was with me. I just didn’t know what to do next.
Looking back, it’s interesting how often I’ve found myself talking with God while walking or running along a road. There’s something about those moments when the distractions fall away and it’s just me, the road, and God.
At the time, I could have interpreted losing my job as a reason to abandon the idea of starting the parish. After all, I had a family to provide for, rent to pay, and no steady income. But instead, I felt that perhaps I was supposed to devote my attention to establishing the parish rather than trying to balance it with a full-time job.
That didn’t mean the financial responsibilities disappeared. I did odd jobs when I could, and people within the denomination helped us with money, gas, food, and other necessities. Their generosity meant more than I can adequately express.
And during those same forty days, something else was happening.
Although I was unemployed, unexpected opportunities continued to open.
I was invited to preach at a large church in Florida, and my entire family came with me. The church covered our expenses, including a hotel right on the beach. Here I was, unemployed and uncertain about how I was going to provide for my family, yet we were all able to make this trip together. It was another unexpected opportunity to minister and experience God’s provision during those forty days.
Then someone paid my way to San Clemente, California, to attend our denomination’s convocation. My travel and accommodations were provided. And because I was still in the middle of my 40-day fast, food wasn’t something I needed to worry about.
I hadn’t planned any of this when I began fasting. I certainly hadn’t planned on being unemployed. Yet throughout those weeks, even as I struggled with uncertainty about providing for my family, I continued to experience God’s provision through the generosity of others.
It was becoming an adventure in faith, though not necessarily the adventure I had expected.
As the convocation came to an end, so did my 40-day fast. On the airplane home, I ate my first solid food in forty days. It was nothing elaborate, just a plain piece of toast.
I had begun those forty days employed, with a plan to establish a parish during evenings and weekends. Now I was unemployed, preparing to devote myself to starting that parish full-time.
So much had changed, and there were still plenty of unanswered questions. I still had a family to provide for, bills to pay, and no guarantee of how everything would work out.
But I had also experienced God’s provision in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Through the generosity of others, doors had opened even when my own circumstances seemed to be closing in around me.
And I still remembered that walk down the road near our home, when I had cried out to God after losing my job.
I didn’t know then what the next forty days would hold, much less the years that would follow.
But I knew God was with me.
Looking back, I don’t see those forty days as something remarkable because I managed to fast for so long. I remember them because of everything that happened along the way, and because God remained present through it all.
I had started with a plan. I finished with a different set of circumstances and a decision to trust God with what came next.
Faith isn’t always about knowing where the road will lead. Sometimes it’s about trusting God enough to walk the road He’s given you, even when you can’t see where it ends.
I didn’t know what awaited me when I began that parish. I only knew that I believed God had called me to go, and I was going to follow.
God was there. God is here. And whatever road lies ahead, He will be there too.
You are not alone on this road.
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