Tag: spiritual growth

Posted in Walking Through the Bible

Walking Through The Bible: Deuteronomy

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I keep a journal that I write in daily. Nothing fancy – just my thoughts, what’s happening in my life, or whatever happens to be on my mind at the moment.

Every once in a while, I like to go back and read it. Sometimes, I can see how far I’ve come on certain journeys. Other times, I realize I’m still stuck in places I thought I had already moved beyond. But either way, looking back has become a useful tool for helping me move forward.

In a lot of ways, Deuteronomy felt like that to me.

As I read it, I felt like I was sitting beside Moses while he looked back over everything Israel had experienced. He knew his time on earth was coming to an end. God had already told him that he would not enter the Promised Land. Yet Moses didn’t simply walk away. Instead, he spent his remaining time reminding Israel who God was, what God had done, and what they needed to remember after he was gone.

So, as I finished Deuteronomy, these are the things that stood out to me. 

1. Faithfulness doesn’t end just because our time is almost up.

Moses knew his time was done. He knew he would die, and God had already told him so.

Yet Moses remained faithful to the work God had given him right up until the very end.

That really struck me.

We sometimes think of our purpose as something that belongs to a particular season of our lives. But Moses reminds me that as long as God gives us breath, there is still something He can ask us to do.

We don’t get to decide when our usefulness ends.

Moses didn’t.

2. God made sure the Israelites understood the assignment.

There really wasn’t much gray area.

God laid out some fierce and mighty blessings for obedience and some equally fierce and mighty consequences for disobedience.

That might sound harsh to modern ears, but I think there is something incredibly loving about making the choices and consequences clear.

God wasn’t playing games with them.

He told them what He expected. He told them what would happen. And then He let them choose.

Which brings me to the next thing I learned.

3. God gives us a choice.

Too often, I think people view Christianity as a giant list of things God is going to make us do.

“If I become a Christian, God will make me give this up.”

“God will make me start doing that.”

But that’s not what I see in Deuteronomy.

God gives us a choice.

He doesn’t force our hand. He doesn’t drag us into obedience kicking and screaming. Instead, He gives us the opportunity to choose Him, choose obedience, and ultimately choose to accept His unconditional love.

And maybe that’s what makes the choice so meaningful.

Love that is forced isn’t really love.

4. Moses reminded Israel where they had come from.

Throughout Deuteronomy, Moses recapped Israel’s journey out of Egypt and everything God had done for them.

And he didn’t leave out the ugly parts.

Israel had rebelled. They had complained. They had forgotten. They had messed up.

And yet God continued to provide.

Moses reminded them of God’s grace, His faithfulness, and His supernatural provision.

In other words, he was telling them, Don’t forget what God has already done.

That is something I need to remember, too.

Because sometimes when I’m staring at what’s wrong right now, I forget to look back at everything God has already carried me through.

5. God’s Word was meant to be passed down.

One of the things that really stood out to me was the importance placed on teaching God’s instructions to the next generation.

The Book of Instruction was to be read and taught regularly, including at the appointed seven-year gathering. The purpose wasn’t simply for the people who were there. It was about remembering, teaching, and making sure the next generation knew what God had done.

In a very loose comparison, it was their version of having God’s Word available to them, long before we had the Bibles we can pick up and read today.

That made me think about how easily we can take access to Scripture for granted.

We have it everywhere.

We can read it on our phones. We can listen to it in the car. We can have multiple Bibles sitting on a shelf.

But having access to God’s Word and actually passing it along are two very different things.

6. God Himself buried Moses.

This one stopped me.

When Moses died, God Himself buried him.

God took care of Moses even in death.

I don’t know about you, but there’s something incredibly intimate about that.

Moses had spent his life walking with God, talking with God, arguing with God, obeying God, and sometimes getting things spectacularly wrong.

And yet, at the end of his life, God was still there.

There is something beautiful about that relationship.

7. Moses loved God deeply and he talked to Him plainly.

Moses wasn’t perfect.

He faltered. He made mistakes. He became frustrated. He even lost his temper.

But through all of it, he never wavered in his love for God.

The relationship between Moses and God feels incredibly personal to me.

And that’s another thing I took away from Deuteronomy: we don’t have to talk to God like we’re writing a letter to a king.

No King James English required.

No Shakespearean vocabulary necessary.

We can talk to God plainly.

We can tell Him when we’re angry. When we’re afraid. When we’re confused. When we’re grateful. When we don’t understand what He’s doing.

Moses certainly wasn’t afraid to speak honestly with God.

And I think there’s something comforting about knowing that God doesn’t require us to put on a performance before we come to Him.

Final Thoughts

If I had to wrap up everything I learned from reading Deuteronomy in one verse, it would be this:

“Today I have given you the choice between life and death, between blessings and curses. Now I call on heaven and earth to witness the choice you make. Oh, that you would choose life, so that you and your descendants might live!”

— Deuteronomy 30:19, NLT

Moses spoke those words to the Israelites.

But when I read them, they feel like they come straight from the heart of the Father.

Choose life.

Choose God.

Choose grace.

Choose love.

Choose Jesus.

Because ultimately, that’s what I believe Deuteronomy taught me.

God has given us a choice.

And every day, in big ways and small ones, we get to decide which way we’re going to walk.

Posted in Midlife & Beyond

Almost 58 and Still Figuring It Out

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Life is funny. Or so they say.

I remember being in high school, long ago, and thinking I would have my whole life figured out by the time I reached my 50s. Fifty seemed positively ancient back then.

Then I graduated and started working. I remember thinking, “Just a few more years, and then I’ll get married and life will begin.”

I assumed I would spend my 20s sorting everything out and then spend my 30s really living life.

Of course, life had other plans.

My 30s arrived, and I found myself in an unhappy marriage with two beautiful girls who still bring so much sparkle to my life. I remember thinking, This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

By the end of my 30s, I was divorced and living back at home, thank God. I entered my 40s trying to rebuild not only my life, but myself.

Don’t get me wrong. Divorce freed me to finally start living again, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t one of the most painful seasons of my life.

Just Keeping My Head Above Water

I feel like I surfed through most of my 40s.

Neither here nor there.

Just maintaining. Keeping my head above water. Doing what needed to be done and trying to figure out what came next.

Then, near the end of my 40s, life changed again.

Big.

And painful.

I lost the two women who had been my anchors.

So once again, I entered another decade rebuilding my life and rebuilding myself.

Only this time, there wasn’t anyone to make it happen for me like there had been before.

It was just me and God.

Eight Years of Growth

I’m almost 58 now, and these past eight years haven’t exactly been easy.

But something has changed.

I can honestly say I’ve probably experienced more personal growth during these years than I did in all the decades before them.

I built a life for my girls and me as we learned to heal after losing my mom and my aunt.

I watched my little girl get married to the man of her dreams.

My older daughter was diagnosed with autism and found her person for this life.

I bought a house with my sister.

I became a grandmother.

Those things are precious. They are some of the sweetest gifts God has given me.

But even those things don’t compare to the deeper work God has been doing in me.

The correction.

The pruning.

The uncomfortable moments when He lovingly shows me that some things I thought were simply who I am are actually things He wants to change.

And honestly, that has been one of the greatest gifts of this season.

Finally Saying Yes

For the first time in my life, I feel like I am fully submitted to His will, whatever that may be.

And yes, I’m saying yes.

Although I am still respectfully asking Him not to relocate me to Florida or call me to be a missionary somewhere without air conditioning, where bugs and snakes are apparently considered part of the scenery.

But other than that?

Yes, Lord.

I’m also finally beginning to release my Vulcan death grip on old hurts.

And hear me when I say this: letting go of past hurts isn’t always about just forgiving someone else. Sometimes it’s about repenting for the part I played in the story.

That one hurts.

But it’s also freeing.

For a long time, I thought healing meant getting past what other people had done to me. Now I’m realizing that healing also means allowing God to show me where I need to take responsibility, change, repent, and move forward.

That kind of honesty isn’t always comfortable.

But freedom rarely is.

So What’s the Plan?

So what’s the plan as I head toward my 60s?

Start now.

Don’t be a “one day” girl.

Be a “day one” woman.

I heard a pastor say that once, and it has stayed with me.

I have two years and two months left in my 50s, and I don’t want to end this decade the way the last two ended, with me simply surviving, maintaining, or waiting for the next thing to happen.

I want to walk into my 60s prepared.

Not perfect.

Prepared.

Strong in Mind and Body

I want to be strong.

Strong in mind.

Strong in body.

Strong in faith.

I want a healthy mind that recognizes the enemy’s attacks instead of entertaining every fearful thought that walks through the door.

I want to be like a deeply rooted tree, steady when the storms come and not swept away by every tornado of what if and what now.

I want to live in a healthy body, fueled in a way that honors God and strong enough to move easily.

I want to dance in it.

Ride bikes in it.

Get down on the floor and roll around with my grandchildren in it.

And I want to be able to do whatever God asks of me for as long as He gives me.

A Prayer Life That Moves Heaven

I want a prayer life that breaks chains and rattles walls.

I want my daughters and sons-in-law to know they have a praying mama.

More than that, I want my grandchildren to grow up knowing, My grandma prays. And when Grandma prays, Heaven moves.

I don’t want prayer to be something I squeeze into my day when everything else is finished.

I want it to be the foundation underneath everything else.

Less Fear, More Obedience

I want to become fearless about reaching people for Jesus.

Not just being a pillar in my church, but being willing to step outside the comfortable walls of church and talk to someone about Jesus without letting fear talk me out of obedience.

I want to be willing to have the conversation.

To offer encouragement.

To pray for someone.

To share what Jesus has done in my life.

And I want my words to sound less like me and more like the Father.

Freedom to Say Yes

I want to be debt free, owing no one anything except a debt of love.

Because there is a different kind of freedom that comes when you aren’t financially tied down and can say yes when God puts someone on your heart.

We are blessed to be a blessing.

And I want to be free to bless people.

I want to be closer than ever to retirement, not because I don’t want to work, but because I want the work I do to be God-ordained work.

I want to use the gifts, talents, experiences, and even the hobbies God has given me to encourage people.

I want to reach younger women.

I want to minister to older women.

I want to write.

I want to create.

I want to serve.

I want to make people laugh.

I want to tell stories that point people back to Jesus.

And I don’t want to wait until I retire to start living that way.

This Is the Part That Matters

That’s the thing I’m finally beginning to understand. The woman I want to be in my 60s isn’t going to magically appear when I blow out the candles on my 60th birthday. The life I want isn’t waiting for me somewhere in the future. It is being built right now, in the choices I make today, the things I surrender today, the hurts I finally release, the habits I build, the prayers I pray, and the obedience that sometimes feels uncomfortable.

Maybe that’s what this season of life is really about. Not starting over. Not becoming someone completely different. But allowing God to finish the work He started in me all those years ago.

I spent a lot of my younger years waiting for my life to begin. I don’t want to do that anymore. My life isn’t waiting for me somewhere in my 60s. It’s happening right now.

And for the first time, I don’t need to have the whole thing figured out. I just need to know Who is leading me.

So here I am. Almost 58. Still learning. Still growing. Still messing things up occasionally. Still asking God to please keep the snakes out of my future. But more surrendered than I’ve ever been, and ready.

Not for some perfect future version of my life.

For today. For this season. For whatever God puts in front of me next. 

Posted in Faith in Real Life

Trading Beliefs for Truth

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Have you ever had a belief challenged? Someone feeds you a little truth, and suddenly you’re sitting in the middle of your belief system wondering what happened to your life.

As I’ve grown older and studied the Word more intently, I’ve realized there are several beliefs I need to replace with Truth.

It hasn’t necessarily been a pain-free process. Letting go of 50+ years of believing one way is hard. But if I want to grow, I have to “let it go”—as the song says.

So, here are some of the things I’ve had to let go of.

1. The more productive I am, the more I’m worth.

I’ve made a habit of tying my worth to what I accomplish. It’s probably why words of affirmation are my love language. Tell me I did a good job, and suddenly I feel like I’ve got my life together.

But the Bible tells me my worth isn’t wrapped up in what I do or how productive I am.

It’s wrapped up in Jesus.

“But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” — Romans 5:8

Jesus didn’t wait until I became productive enough, successful enough, or “good enough.” He died for me while I was still a sinner.

My worth wasn’t earned.

Jesus settled it at the cross.

2. It’s too late to start something new.

I want to write and publish books. I want to build a business around writing, crochet, and embroidery. I want to read and review books. I want my blogs to succeed, and I want to grow them.

And through all of that, I hear a ticking clock in my head reminding me that I’m 57—almost 58—and time is running out.

But then I remember what the Bible says.

God regularly calls people later in life.

Moses was 80.

Caleb was 85 and still asking for mountains.

Sarah became a mother at 90.

Anna faithfully served God into old age.

“They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green.” — Psalm 92:14

The Bible never gives ministry, creativity, or purpose an expiration date.

There is no recall on my calling from God!

3. I have to have everything figured out before I begin.

This one stops me every time.

It’s also why I start things and then stop, leaving them unfinished. I always need to see the whole process. I want the perfect plan for my blogs, my writing, my career…preferably before I take the first step.

But God doesn’t work that way.

He usually gives us enough light for the next step—not the next twenty.

“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” — Psalm 119:105

A lamp gives me enough light to see where I’m standing and where to put my next foot.

It doesn’t spotlight the entire road.

Maybe I don’t need the whole plan.

Maybe I just need to take the next step.

4. I should have my emotions under control all the time.

Let’s talk about this one.

Menopause. Anxiety. Overwhelm. Guilt. Brain fog.

Sometimes the whole gang gets together and beats me up until I’m a crying mess who just wants to eat chocolate, rock myself, and pet Percy.

Then I feel guilty for feeling all of it.

But the Bible doesn’t tell me I shouldn’t have emotions.

David cried. Elijah became overwhelmed. Jeremiah wept. Even Jesus cried.

Scripture says:

“Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” — 1 Peter 5:7

Notice it doesn’t say, “Get yourself together and then come to Me.”

It says cast it on Him.

Having emotions doesn’t mean I’m failing God.

It means I’m human.

I don’t have to be ashamed of what I feel. I just have to remember that my feelings are real, but they don’t have to be in charge.

5. God only uses extraordinary people.

I know I’ve joked about not wanting to be “Super Christian Wonder Woman.” And honestly, I think that’s a pretty healthy instinct.

Because when I look at the people God used throughout Scripture, I don’t see a lineup of superheroes.

I see ordinary people.

Fishermen.
Shepherds.
Widows.
Tax collectors.
Homemakers.
Farmers.

People with weaknesses, questions, fears, failures, and very ordinary lives.

And God used them.

“God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.” — 1 Corinthians 1:27

Maybe I don’t have to be extraordinary.

Maybe I just have to be willing.

And finally…the mother of all beliefs.

I need to become a much better version of myself before God can use me.

This one might be the hardest to let go of.

Because I’m always trying to improve myself. Be better. Do better. Lose weight. Get organized. Be more productive. Finish what I start. Become more confident. Become more disciplined.

But Scripture keeps telling me a different story.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9

God isn’t waiting for me to become younger, thinner, more successful, more organized, or more confident.

He isn’t waiting for the “finished version” of Vikki.

He can use me right now.

With my weaknesses.

With my unfinished projects.

With my messy emotions.

With my questions.

With my very ordinary life.

Because apparently, God has never needed me to be extraordinary.

He just needs me to be willing to let Him work through me.

Posted in Faith in Real Life

What If Ordinary Is Holy?

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I used to think holy people were recognizable.

They prayed differently.

They spoke differently.

They seemed to know exactly what to say when someone was hurting.

They probably woke up early to pray, kept their Bibles beautifully highlighted, and never once stood in the kitchen at 5:30 p.m. wondering what on earth they were going to make for dinner.

At least, that’s how I imagined them.

My mental picture of holiness centered on people doing holy things.

I pictured my pastor praying on his knees for Sunday morning inspiration.

His wife showing up at someone’s house with fresh-baked cookies because they were sick.

Moses meeting with God.

Mary carrying an unimaginable miracle inside her.

David standing in front of a giant with nothing but a sling and a whole lot of faith.

Those are the moments we remember.

So somewhere along the way, I decided holiness must look like that.

Then I saw “holy” people at home.

Years ago, I spent a summer living with a pastor and his family.

The circumstances that brought me there were complicated and, honestly, a little strange. But that summer gave me something I didn’t know I needed.

I got to see what happened when the people I had placed on a spiritual pedestal went home at the end of the day.

And they were…normal.

His shoes probably sat somewhere they shouldn’t have.

He had a habit of leaving cabinet doors open in the kitchen.

His wife couldn’t keep up with the laundry any more than the rest of us could.

He mowed the lawn.

She woke up with spectacular bedhead.

They got tired.

They had responsibilities.

They dealt with regular family stuff.

They weren’t walking around their house glowing with a faint heavenly light.

And I loved them for it.

Because somewhere in that very ordinary house, my definition of holiness began to fall apart.

Maybe holy people aren’t actually that different from the rest of us.

Maybe they just belong to God.

That changed something for me.

God meets people in real life.

When I went back to Scripture, I started noticing things I hadn’t paid much attention to before.

Moses wasn’t exactly eager to accept his assignment.

David spent years doing things that looked nothing like slaying giants.

Mary wasn’t living some peaceful, picturesque life when God interrupted it.

These weren’t people floating through perfectly arranged spiritual moments.

They had errands.

Responsibilities.

Fear.

Questions.

Bad days.

They had lives.

And God met them there.

I’ve spent a lot of years thinking I needed to create better spiritual moments.

A better quiet time.

A better prayer life.

A better version of myself.

Maybe you’ve done that too.

We see someone’s beautifully arranged Bible, coffee, journal, blanket, and perfectly placed verse on Instagram, and suddenly our own relationship with God feels like it’s missing something.

Meanwhile, I’m reading my Bible with yesterday’s coffee beside me while the dog wants out, my phone keeps buzzing, and I’m wondering whether I remembered to move something from the freezer for dinner.

This is not exactly Instagrammable holiness.

But maybe it doesn’t need to be.

Maybe God isn’t asking me to create a holy atmosphere.

Maybe He’s asking me to let Him into the atmosphere I already have.

That’s different.

Faith doesn’t have to look impressive.

Real life isn’t particularly photogenic.

Sometimes faith looks like praying while you’re driving.

Sometimes it looks like apologizing when you’d rather prove your point.

Sometimes it looks like opening your Bible when you’re tired and don’t particularly feel spiritual.

Sometimes it looks like forgiving someone who isn’t sorry.

Sometimes it looks like getting up tomorrow and doing the next right thing when yesterday was hard.

Sometimes it looks like sitting beside someone you love and saying nothing because there isn’t anything to say.

And sometimes…

it’s just making dinner.

There are days when I don’t feel particularly faithful.

There are days when I’m distracted, impatient, tired, discouraged, or simply over it.

Some days, my prayer life feels profound.

Other days, my prayer is basically, “Lord, help.”

I’ve decided that counts too.

Maybe especially that.

Because the older I get, the less interested I am in looking holy and the more interested I am in actually knowing God.

I don’t need my life to look impressive.

I don’t need every struggle to become a lesson.

I don’t need every morning to begin with a perfectly peaceful devotional.

I don’t even need to understand everything God is doing.

God has been faithful.

I’ve lived long enough to know that some of my biggest lessons came from things I never would have chosen.

Some prayers were answered.

Some weren’t.

Some dreams happened.

Some didn’t.

I’ve lost people I desperately wanted to keep.

I’ve walked through seasons I never want to repeat.

And somehow, through all of it, God has remained faithful.

Not flashy.

Not always obvious.

Just faithful.

That’s the part I notice more now.

I notice Him in my granddaughter’s laugh.

In a conversation that comes at exactly the right time.

In the sudden realization that something I once prayed desperately about no longer hurts the way it used to.

In a quiet morning.

In a hard day that somehow gets me through to bedtime.

In the comfort of Scripture I’ve read a hundred times but suddenly understand differently.

Even in a crochet hook moving through yarn while I watch another British mystery.

I don’t think those moments interrupt my spiritual life anymore.

I think they are my spiritual life.

Maybe this is what holiness looks like.

Maybe that’s what growing older has taught me.

Holiness isn’t always dramatic.

Sometimes it is incredibly ordinary.

Sometimes it looks like getting up, making coffee, going to work, loving your people, doing your best, messing up, apologizing, trying again, and trusting God to meet you somewhere in the middle of it all.

Not because the day was extraordinary.

But because He was there.

And maybe I’ve had it backward all these years.

Maybe I don’t have to make my ordinary life holy.

Maybe I just have to recognize that God is already there.

So today, I’m not looking for a mountaintop.

I’m looking around my kitchen.

My living room.

My car.

My messy schedule.

My ordinary day.

And I’m wondering what I’ve been too busy trying to make meaningful to notice was already sacred.

Something to think about…

What if you stopped waiting for a holy moment?

What if you simply looked at the life you already have and asked:

Where is God here?

Not in the perfect moment.

Not in the impressive moment.

Here.

Right in the middle of your ordinary life.

Posted in Walking Through the Bible

Walking Through the Bible: Numbers

Posted on by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

When I started reading Numbers, I expected a book filled with censuses, lists, and laws. Instead, I found a powerful story about God’s holiness, incredible patience, and His unwavering grace toward a people who continually struggled to trust Him. More than that, I found myself in the story.

1. God’s grace is greater than Israel’s stubbornness.

One thing became clear almost immediately: the Israelites were incredibly stubborn. Time after time, they doubted God, complained, rebelled, and forgot everything He had already done for them.

Yet every time they failed, God’s grace met them. His judgment was real, but so was His mercy. Reading Numbers reminded me that God’s patience is far greater than I often realize.

2. God takes every sin seriously.

One of the most sobering moments in Numbers is when Moses disobeys God’s specific instruction by striking the rock instead of speaking to it.

To us, it can seem like such a small thing.

But God is holy, and obedience matters.

Moses’ actions kept him from entering the Promised Land, reminding me that there really is no such thing as “small” sin when it comes to a holy God.

3. God’s promises really do come to pass.

I’ll admit that I’ve always skimmed through the opening census.

It’s just numbers…

Or so I thought.

This time I realized those numbers represented something much bigger.

They were the fulfillment of God’s promise to Abraham – that his descendants would become as numerous as the stars. Every family counted, every tribe listed, was evidence that God keeps His promises, even generations later.

4. Rebellion often begins with distrust.

As I continued reading, the rebellion only grew.

The people wanted to replace Moses and Aaron.

They wanted to return to Egypt.

God was ready to wipe them out, but Moses interceded on their behalf.

Even after Korah’s rebellion ended with the earth literally opening and swallowing people alive, Israel still didn’t fully trust God.

Then came the worship of Baal of Peor, where many of the Israelite men were drawn away by the Moabite women into idolatry.

I found myself asking,

How could they witness miracle after miracle and still rebel?

5. Then I realized…I’m not so different.

It’s easy to shake our heads at the Israelites.

I certainly did.

Until I realized something.

They didn’t have the Bible like we do today. They depended on Moses and on God’s visible presence among them. Of course, that should have been enough, and yet they still struggled to trust.

Then I began thinking about all of God’s instructions regarding worship, sacrifice, feasts, and offerings.

At first, I wondered how they managed to keep up with all of it.

Then it hit me.

I was viewing their lives through the lens of my modern, distracted world. Their entire national identity revolved around worshiping God. Every instruction was meant to keep Him at the center of their lives.

He wasn’t trying to burden them.

He was setting them apart.

Israel was called to be a holy people, belonging completely to Him.

6. Numbers became a mirror.

One afternoon while I was out walking, God gently convicted me.

I realized how often I’ve complained about the very blessings I once prayed desperately to receive.

I’ve been guilty of wanting to “go back to Egypt.”

Not literally—but in my attitude.

I’ve complained about responsibilities that are actually blessings. I’ve questioned God’s provision after watching Him provide again and again. I’ve worried about tomorrow even though He has faithfully cared for me countless times before.

Reading Numbers stopped being about Israel.

It became about me.

7. Trust is something I have to choose.

I’ve spent years seeing God’s faithfulness.

Miracle after miracle.

Provision after provision.

Answered prayer after answered prayer.

Yet there are still moments when I wonder whether He will come through again. Numbers reminded me that trust isn’t built by seeing more miracles. It’s built by remembering the God who has already proven Himself faithful.

I’ve repented of my complaining and asked God to help me become someone who truly trusts Him and to live as one of His set-apart children with a grateful heart instead of a grumbling one.

Final Thoughts

If I had to summarize what Numbers taught me in one sentence, it would be this:

God is holy, God is faithful, and God’s grace is far greater than my tendency to forget both.

I went into Numbers expecting lists and censuses.

I came away with a renewed appreciation for God’s holiness, His incredible patience, and a reminder that I need to stop looking so much like the Israelites and start looking more like someone who truly trusts the God who has never once failed me.

And perhaps that’s one of the greatest gifts of reading Scripture.

It doesn’t just tell us who God is.

It reveals who we are and lovingly invites us to become more like Christ.