There Aren't Always Fireworks

 

Life has this way of catching us off guard. One minute we think we’ve got the next few steps mapped out, and the next we’re staring at a closed door, a detour, or a deep ache we didn’t see coming. Maybe it’s a job that didn’t work out. Maybe someone let us down. Maybe we’re carrying questions that don’t seem to have answers. Whatever the case, those are the moments when we find ourselves at a fork in the road—and the path God asks us to take doesn’t always come with explanations, neon signs, or a big emotional rush. Sometimes, we just get a quiet whisper in the dark: “Trust Me.”

But if we’re honest, that’s not always easy to do. Trust sounds simple when life’s smooth. But when things unravel a bit, trust feels more like a wrestle than a resting place.

That’s why I come back again and again to Proverbs 3:5-6: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart; and lean not unto your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.”

That verse feels like a lifeline when we’re standing in the fog, unsure of what’s next. We don’t have to have it all figured out. We don’t have to pretend we’re not confused. We just have to turn our heart toward Him—and trust that He’s not only seeing ahead, but walking us there.

I used to think that trusting God meant I'd feel some sort of holy fire every time I made the right decision. Like the heavens would thunder, or at least I’d feel a warm wave of confirmation every time I prayed. But the truth is… there’s not always fireworks. Sometimes trusting God looks like quietly getting out of bed the next morning when everything still hurts. Sometimes it's choosing not to panic even when the bills are piling up. Sometimes it’s opening your Bible in the middle of the night, not because you’re feeling super spiritual—but because your soul is desperate for something solid.

That’s where real trust lives.

Look at Sarah’s story in Genesis 18. She had waited decades for God to fulfill a promise, and when she overheard the Lord confirming it again—this time that she would bear a child in her old age—she laughed. Not a joyful laugh, either. A tired, skeptical one. A laugh that says, “Yeah right. I’ve waited long enough. Don’t mess with my hope.” But God answered her with this:
“Is anything too hard for the LORD?” (Genesis 18:14)

Even with all her doubts, her weariness, and that sarcastic laugh, God wasn’t angry. He understood her heart. And He still kept His promise. She gave birth to Isaac, whose name means “he laughs.” That part gets me every time—God redeemed even her laughter and made it a symbol of joy.

We don’t need perfect faith to trust God. Just real faith. Worn-in, weathered, honest faith that leans into Him—even when we don’t understand what He’s doing.

And truthfully, most of the time we don’t. Isaiah 55:8-9 puts it straight:
“For My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways, saith the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways, and My thoughts than your thoughts.”

He sees the full story. We only see the page we’re on.

*** 

Michael’s story still sits with me. He’d been working a stable job for years—one of those jobs that feels safe. It wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills and kept life moving. Then one day it was gone. Company downsizing. No warning. Just an empty desk and a box of belongings.

He panicked at first. I mean, who wouldn’t? He had a mortgage, kids in school, responsibilities. He kept saying, “I just don’t know what I’m going to do.” That phrase—“I don’t know”—became a daily prayer. But somewhere in the middle of all that uncertainty, he started leaning into his church community. He showed up for midweek prayer. He volunteered, even when he was tired. And every morning, even when anxiety was loud, he’d ask God to lead him—just for that day.

At first, nothing dramatic happened. No miraculous job offer. No lightning bolts. Just quiet trust, one step at a time. But God was working behind the scenes.

One afternoon, a friend mentioned a job opening at a place Josh hadn’t considered—something totally different than what he’d done before. It wasn’t what he thought he wanted. But the more he prayed, the more his heart softened to it. Long story short? He got the job. And it wasn’t just a paycheck—it was a calling. Something that used gifts he didn’t even realize he had. He started mentoring younger coworkers, leading a prayer group, and finding joy again. Not the kind of joy that explodes in fireworks. The kind that quietly settles in and stays.

*** 

And then there’s Ary. She had one of those dependable jobs—decent pay, good benefits, regular hours. But she felt this stirring in her spirit, like God was calling her out of the boat into deeper water. She couldn’t explain it. Just this sense that He was asking her to walk away and step into nonprofit work.

Everyone told her she was crazy. It wasn’t logical. It wasn’t “secure.” But she couldn’t shake it. She fasted. She prayed. She wrestled. And still, that quiet pull didn’t go away. So she walked away from what was comfortable and said yes to what was unknown.

Now here’s the part that still makes me smile—weeks after she joined the nonprofit, they received unexpected funding that allowed them to expand their team and deepen their impact. She found herself leading projects that lined up perfectly with her gifts and passions. It didn’t happen overnight. And there were plenty of days filled with uncertainty. But God was already there. Already preparing the way.

Sometimes we think trusting God will feel like a spotlight shining down on our next step. But often? It feels like walking with your eyes closed, hand in His, one step at a time. Quietly. Gently. Faithfully.

The Bible is full of stories just like that.

Think about Joseph. God gave him dreams of leadership when he was young, but he was betrayed, sold into slavery, falsely accused, and thrown into prison. Years passed. No explanation. No resolution. Just silence and suffering. And yet, at every turn, the Scripture says “the LORD was with Joseph.” (Genesis 39:2, Genesis 39:21) God never left him—not once. And in the end, He raised Joseph up to a position of influence and protection for his people. But that trust was built over time, in the quiet places, not the showy ones.

Or think about Elijah. After calling down fire from heaven, he fled in fear and ended up alone in the wilderness, begging God to let him die. But God didn’t shout at him or give him a lightning bolt. He sent an angel with food. He let him rest. And when it was time to speak again, God didn’t come in the wind or the fire or the earthquake. He came in a still, small voice. (1 Kings 19:11-12)

That’s where the healing was. That’s where the direction came from.

There’s not always fireworks.

But there’s still God.
And He’s enough.

There’s one more verse that always quiets my heart when I’m feeling like I should be “doing more” or “feeling more” or “hearing more.” It’s Jeremiah 29:11:

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the LORD, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”

God’s not trying to trick us. His plans are not chaotic. They’re good. They’re full of peace. That word expected—in Hebrew it’s אַחֲרִית (acharit)—means “latter end” or “outcome.” It carries this idea of a destination that is seen clearly by Him, even if it’s hidden from us right now.

He’s leading us to an outcome that’s been in His heart all along.

So when it’s quiet—trust Him.
When the sky’s dark—trust Him.
When there’s no booming voice, no flashing sign, and no holy goosebumps—trust Him.

Even when it’s just silence and waiting, or small steps in ordinary days, He’s still at work. Some of His best work happens when we’re not looking.

So if you’re in a season where things don’t make sense—where you're waiting or wondering or maybe just plain tired—know this: you’re not alone. God is still writing your story. He knows the way forward, even when we don’t. Let Him lead. Let Him carry it. Trust Him with the parts you don’t understand yet.

He’s still working, even when the sky is quiet.
He’s still faithful, even when there’s not always fireworks.
And He’s still God… even when we’re just learning how to follow with our eyes closed.

Just keep walking.

 

 Image by chatgpt at my direction

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