Psalm 38:18 | 2 Corinthians 7:10–11

This week, I started a new job—and the company shipped me a laptop. Except… it got lost in the mail.

And while that sounds like a small thing, it turned into this internal battle I didn’t expect. I knew it would get worked out eventually, but I was struggling—not just to trust that God would resolve it, but to trust that He was orchestrating the delay itself. That part was harder.

In my head, I told myself: This is God’s plan. Be still. Just listen in on meetings, observe, no pressure.
But my ego? It wasn’t trying to hear that. My mind was racing: You need to show up. You need to stay ahead. You need to prove yourself.

And while there’s nothing wrong with being hungry and passionate about the work God calls us to, I realized that even good things have to be surrendered. My career is part of my calling. I know that. But it’s still His, not mine to control.

What made it worse is that I felt like I was suffering for something I didn’t cause. The delay wasn’t my fault—so why was I the one sitting here, feeling stuck? And God gently revealed to me: You’re not suffering because of the delay. You’re suffering because you’re not trusting me with the delay. That hit.

And in my impatience (which I now recognize was the actual sin), I tried to take matters into my own hands. I attempted to log in on my home computer to “get ahead”… and ended up locking myself out completely. Now I was more stuck than ever—and only because I couldn’t accept the pace God had set.

The next day, the company casually told me, “You’ve got three weeks to onboard. There’s no pressure.”
So here I was, all tangled up in worry, stress, and false urgency—when everything was already taken care of.

That moment reminded me how much of our suffering we actually create. Not always from doing something wrong, but from not letting go. From not accepting the present moment as enough. From letting our fears speak louder than our faith.

That’s why Psalm 38 and 2 Corinthians 7 stood out to me this week. David’s sorrow was real. Paul’s message about godly sorrow vs. worldly sorrow helped me name what I was feeling. Because sometimes we think we’re suffering… but really, we’re just resisting. Resisting peace. Resisting surrender. Resisting the stillness that leads to clarity.

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So if you’re reading this…
Maybe your situation isn’t a lost laptop.
Maybe it’s a relationship. A delay. A transition.
Something that’s out of your control and making you feel like you’re falling behind.

But before you blame yourself—or anyone else—pause.

Ask yourself: What if this isn’t punishment?
What if it’s preparation?
What if the discomfort you feel right now is God gently pulling you out of your own pace, and into His peace?

I had to learn (and am still learning) that peace doesn’t mean everything is fixed.
It just means I’m not going to fix it myself.
I’m going to trust that God already has.
And when I do, the discomfort isn’t painful anymore—it’s peaceful.

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A Prayer for When You’re Tired of Trying

Father,
Thank You for being present, even when I’m restless.
Thank You for working things out before I even realize I’m trying to work them out on my own.

I’m sorry for the ways I’ve tried to stay in control.
I’m sorry for thinking I had to prove myself or earn rest.
And I’m sorry for letting my worry drown out Your voice.

Help me trust Your pace.
Help me surrender my need to “fix it.”
Thank You for reminding me that my calling is Yours—and You’re not rushing me.

I receive the peace You’re offering right now.
Not after it’s resolved. Not once it’s all figured out.
But now—in this moment.

I love You. I trust You.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.