The Unexpected Journey
Hiatus Anyone?
It may seem counterintuitive, even unsettling to some, but I’ve come to realize that my recent hiatus from daily Bible reading wasn’t an act of neglect or spiritual drift—it was God’s doing. Now, I can already hear the questions: "How could God tell you not to read His Word? Are you sure it wasn’t another spirit speaking to you?" Trust me, I understand the reaction.Just moments ago, Kari walked in after her Pilates class and, upon noticing me sitting in my comfy chair, still in my robe, asked with a loving but curious look, "Are you planning to do anything today?" (As if writing isn’t doing something—but we’ll let that slide!) So, I read her the first line of this reflection, and—without missing a beat—she said, "How would God tell you not to read His Word? Are you sure it wasn’t another spirit?"
Let’s pause here. Take a deep breath. Before you hop on that same train of thought, stick with me for a minute. I get it—the question is fair. But here’s what I want to make clear: this wasn’t about rejecting God’s Word. Far from it.
Let me explain further.
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This led me to crack open my Bible and explore Luke with fresh eyes. As I read, the words began to leap off the pages. Passages I had once glossed over as mere "fly-over country" suddenly became significant, so much so that I could hardly move from one verse to the next without pausing.
Poor Kari couldn’t focus on her own study as I kept interrupting to share insight after insight. And then, I came upon the nativity story, and it hit me—I was back. The cloud that had muffled God’s voice and 'banned' His Word from me had lifted. He hadn’t been indifferent or unkind; He had been preparing me for this moment of renewed clarity, restoring the vitality and freshness of His Word. My soul, now fully attuned, would never be the same.
Every word felt intentional and deliberate, as if more were beneath the surface. And then it hit me: these weren’t just details. They were breadcrumbs—breadcrumbs that God, in His perfect economy of words, had scattered throughout Scripture, clues for us to follow, to trace where He’s been and where He’s leading us.
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It’s easy to nod along and say, "Yes, of course, I’m making room for Jesus." But what about the places where there is no room? Where shame, sin, or secrets have taken up all the space. Places where the mere thought of letting Jesus in is terrifying.
What if He sees everything? What if it all comes to light?
Those are the exact spaces Jesus came to inhabit—not just to stretch His legs, but to dwell. It’s in those dark, hidden corners where His presence brings light, where He works both miracles and practical solutions for what we thought were life sentences.
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Second, remain faithful when God calls you to a new path, no matter how long you’ve walked in the same direction.
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Hunger for His Word
God wasn’t pulling me away from His Word; in fact, it was quite the opposite.
In His infinite wisdom, He was leading me into a season of stillness. It reminded me of my favorite verse: "Be still, and know that I am God" (Isaiah 46:10). God wasn’t asking me to stop seeking Him; He was inviting me to slow my roll, to be still so that I could know Him better. This time wasn’t about distancing myself from Scripture—it was about preparing my heart for something deeper, something more intimate.
To be clear, it wasn’t a complete break from His Word. I remained fully immersed in my daily devotional, Utmost For His Highest, reading about God every morning with the same clockwork consistency. My routine included diving into Scripture, cross-referencing passages, comparing texts, and reflecting in prayer. But even with that level of engagement, it still wasn’t the same as fully immersing myself in the Bible.
Occasionally, the desire would grow too strong, and, like someone finding sweet relief from the pangs of a calorie-restricted diet by sneaking into the kitchen freezer in the middle of the night, I’d steal away for a few spoonfuls of ambrosial ice cream—the kind that melts on your tongue and soothes your soul.
For me, that indulgence was cracking open my Bible. I’d sneak a peek at a passage or two, savoring every word, as if I were stealing a glimpse of hidden Christmas presents. Each time, I felt a rush of joy, swiftly followed by a touch of guilt—like I was breaking some unspoken rule to stick with my devotional reading.
To be clear, it wasn’t a complete break from His Word. I remained fully immersed in my daily devotional, Utmost For His Highest, reading about God every morning with the same clockwork consistency. My routine included diving into Scripture, cross-referencing passages, comparing texts, and reflecting in prayer. But even with that level of engagement, it still wasn’t the same as fully immersing myself in the Bible.
Occasionally, the desire would grow too strong, and, like someone finding sweet relief from the pangs of a calorie-restricted diet by sneaking into the kitchen freezer in the middle of the night, I’d steal away for a few spoonfuls of ambrosial ice cream—the kind that melts on your tongue and soothes your soul.
For me, that indulgence was cracking open my Bible. I’d sneak a peek at a passage or two, savoring every word, as if I were stealing a glimpse of hidden Christmas presents. Each time, I felt a rush of joy, swiftly followed by a touch of guilt—like I was breaking some unspoken rule to stick with my devotional reading.
In truth, it wasn’t that I had grown tired of Scripture—I was still hungry. But even with that thirst, my reading had lost the freshness and fire it once had. The words weren’t jumping off the page like they used to; it all felt like I was missing something vital.
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Morning Clarity
This renewed clarity didn’t come out of nowhere—it followed a moment of realization that changed everything this very morning.
As I read the September 12 devotional from Utmost For His Highest, titled "Going Through Spiritual Confusion," something unusual happened. I always read my devotionals on my iPad for two reasons.
First, the OpenDyslexic font has been a life-changer. Imagine spending your whole adult life deprived of a full breath and then suddenly being able to breathe deeply for the first time. That’s what it felt like when Kari introduced me to this font—it opened a whole new world of comprehension.
Second, I highlight what I read in four colors: blue for topics, red for key takeaways, orange for cautionary lessons, and yellow for those critical conjunctions that tie everything together.
But today, I noticed something odd: no highlights. Somehow, I had missed this day’s devotional in the past. Intrigued, I read through it, reflecting on its three sections—‘The Shrouding of His Friendship,' 'The Shadow of His Fatherhood,' and 'The Strangeness of His Faithfulness'—each pointing me to Luke.
The devotional spoke of times when God’s ways seem unnatural or indifferent, when His friendship feels distant and His fatherhood unrecognizable. And yet, it called me to remain faithful, trusting that more extraordinary things were at stake than my immediate concerns.
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Second, I highlight what I read in four colors: blue for topics, red for key takeaways, orange for cautionary lessons, and yellow for those critical conjunctions that tie everything together.
But today, I noticed something odd: no highlights. Somehow, I had missed this day’s devotional in the past. Intrigued, I read through it, reflecting on its three sections—‘The Shrouding of His Friendship,' 'The Shadow of His Fatherhood,' and 'The Strangeness of His Faithfulness'—each pointing me to Luke.
The devotional spoke of times when God’s ways seem unnatural or indifferent, when His friendship feels distant and His fatherhood unrecognizable. And yet, it called me to remain faithful, trusting that more extraordinary things were at stake than my immediate concerns.
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Breadcrumbs
Poor Kari couldn’t focus on her own study as I kept interrupting to share insight after insight. And then, I came upon the nativity story, and it hit me—I was back. The cloud that had muffled God’s voice and 'banned' His Word from me had lifted. He hadn’t been indifferent or unkind; He had been preparing me for this moment of renewed clarity, restoring the vitality and freshness of His Word. My soul, now fully attuned, would never be the same.
As I read this familiar passage, something began to stir in me. It wasn’t just the story itself, but something more profound—details I had previously overlooked now seemed to glimmer with new meaning. I couldn’t shake the feeling that God had left something behind, like hidden treasures waiting to be uncovered.
Every word felt intentional and deliberate, as if more were beneath the surface. And then it hit me: these weren’t just details. They were breadcrumbs—breadcrumbs that God, in His perfect economy of words, had scattered throughout Scripture, clues for us to follow, to trace where He’s been and where He’s leading us.
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Insight Ignited
Take Mary’s actions, for instance: first, she wraps Jesus in swaddling cloths. On the surface, it’s a tender, practical act, something any mother would do to keep her newborn warm and secure. But as I sat with it, I realized it was more than that.
Jesus—the Son of God, wrapped and restrained. The living sacrifice, bound in humility from the very moment He entered the world. It wasn’t just a gesture of care but a symbol of His submission to His Father’s will, a foreshadowing of the sacrifice He would one day make. Even at His birth, He was set apart for the cross.
Then, Mary lays Him in a manger—a feeding trough. This is another simple act, but the deeper meaning is unmistakable. Jesus, the Bread of Life, was placed in a vessel meant for food, offered not in a palace but in a place of humility and nourishment.
It’s a reminder that He came not to be served but to serve, to be spiritual sustenance for all of us. These breadcrumbs—the wrapping, the manger—point us to His purpose from the start.
And then there’s the fact that there was no room for them in the inn. How often do we hear this part of the story and move on without really thinking about it? The Son of God came into a world that had no room for Him.
But here’s the thing: the lack of room wasn’t just about that one night in Bethlehem. It’s a picture of the human heart, too busy or distracted to make space for the Savior. These aren’t just historical details—they’re breadcrumbs, clues inviting us to ask ourselves: Is there room for Him in my life? Am I making space for Him in my heart?
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Jesus—the Son of God, wrapped and restrained. The living sacrifice, bound in humility from the very moment He entered the world. It wasn’t just a gesture of care but a symbol of His submission to His Father’s will, a foreshadowing of the sacrifice He would one day make. Even at His birth, He was set apart for the cross.
It’s a reminder that He came not to be served but to serve, to be spiritual sustenance for all of us. These breadcrumbs—the wrapping, the manger—point us to His purpose from the start.
And then there’s the fact that there was no room for them in the inn. How often do we hear this part of the story and move on without really thinking about it? The Son of God came into a world that had no room for Him.
But here’s the thing: the lack of room wasn’t just about that one night in Bethlehem. It’s a picture of the human heart, too busy or distracted to make space for the Savior. These aren’t just historical details—they’re breadcrumbs, clues inviting us to ask ourselves: Is there room for Him in my life? Am I making space for Him in my heart?
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Make Room - This subheading also links to a lovely tune by the same name.
What if He sees everything? What if it all comes to light?
Those are the exact spaces Jesus came to inhabit—not just to stretch His legs, but to dwell. It’s in those dark, hidden corners where His presence brings light, where He works both miracles and practical solutions for what we thought were life sentences.
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WRAP-UP
Reflecting on today’s experience, I want to leave you with three key takeaways.
First, be willing to listen to God’s lead, even when it seems counterintuitive. If the great leaders of the Bible had focused on common sense over God’s direction, their stories would have turned out quite differently. Noah, Abraham, Moses—they all followed God into the unknown, and their obedience became the foundation for lessons we continue to learn from today.
Sometimes, God calls us to step away, pause, and be still—so that He can prepare us for something deeper. It may not always make sense, but trust that His leading is never without purpose.
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First, be willing to listen to God’s lead, even when it seems counterintuitive. If the great leaders of the Bible had focused on common sense over God’s direction, their stories would have turned out quite differently. Noah, Abraham, Moses—they all followed God into the unknown, and their obedience became the foundation for lessons we continue to learn from today.
Sometimes, God calls us to step away, pause, and be still—so that He can prepare us for something deeper. It may not always make sense, but trust that His leading is never without purpose.
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Second, remain faithful when God calls you to a new path, no matter how long you’ve walked in the same direction.
My new path came today, and what a welcome change it was.
I was actively studying the Bible then and had just finished my fourth or fifth full reading. I had passion, but it felt like trying to suck a thick chocolate malt through a soggy paper straw. No matter how much I wanted to taste the richness of the Word, something was blocking my ability to fully receive it. I would have kept reading, unaware of what I was missing—the breadcrumbs hidden in the text. But God knew I needed a different approach, not to lose my passion, but to rediscover the depth of His Word in a way I hadn’t before.
Regardless of where you are or the road you’re traveling, God meets you where you are but always leads you toward something greater. Though the paths He sets before you may change, His purpose remains—our growth and transformation.
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Finally, I invite you to follow the breadcrumbs God has left behind for you. They’re there—intentional, purposeful, waiting for you to discover them.
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Finally, I invite you to follow the breadcrumbs God has left behind for you. They’re there—intentional, purposeful, waiting for you to discover them.
And remember Mary’s example. The world had no room for Jesus, but Mary did. She placed Him in a humble manger, swaddled in protection, comfort, and love.
In the same way, we are invited to leave room for Jesus—not in counterfeit places of rest that promise peace but never deliver, but by swaddling ourselves fully in His embrace.
In the same way, we are invited to leave room for Jesus—not in counterfeit places of rest that promise peace but never deliver, but by swaddling ourselves fully in His embrace.
