To me, the very least of all saints, this grace was given, to preach to the Gentiles the unfathomable riches of Christ, and to bring to light what is the administration of the mystery which for ages has been hidden in God who created all things.

—Ephesians 3:8-9

This past weekend, I went on a Christian writing retreat with my co-writer. We’ve been working on developing a project for a few months now. Even so we needed some time away to really invest in fleshing out this new Christian book.

It was a wonderful long weekend. We got to know each other better, had some fun exploring the food scene, and got a lot of work done. But as time came for me to write this devotion, I became anxious. I hadn’t felt the Lord leading me to write anything specific during the week. Then nothing stood out to me as I listened to the livestream of my church’s service.

It was like the radio waves between me and God had gone silent—nothing but static. It was time to write, but it didn’t seem like God had shown me anything to say. I was stuck and wondering how to keep trusting God’s plan when He seemed quiet.

Wanting to Know the Plan

I don’t know if you’re like me, but I hate not knowing the plan. If there’s a plan, I want to know all the details. And if there’s not a plan, I want to make one so I feel in control. And I think that’s why my blood pressure began to rise as the minutes ticked on and I found myself no closer to a completed post—or even a topic to write about.

When my writing partner suggested that I reread the passage my pastor preached on, I did so, but not with the best attitude. I’d already heard the message without any guidance, and I’ve always struggled to understand Paul’s writings with all their run-on sentences. It seemed like there was no way I would find direction by reading the same difficult-to-understand passage.

But I read it anyway, and I found today’s verse just before the passage my pastor had preached on. What struck me was that the plan was hidden. From the beginning of creation—and maybe even before—the plan had always been for God to draw all peoples to Himself. Looking back at biblical history from our spot in the twenty-first century, we can see how God’s plan for humanity was unfolding even when His people couldn’t.

In Good Company

That’s what God was saying when He told Abraham that He would make him into a nation that would be a blessing to all other nations. But Abraham didn’t know. He didn’t know the nature of the blessing his descendants would bring. He didn’t know the ram would be on the top of the mountain where he was supposed to sacrifice Isaac.

And it was the same with others. Joseph didn’t know how God would use him when he was sitting in prison for years. Moses didn’t know what kind of shepherding God had planned while he cared for his father-in-law’s sheep in his exile. Gideon didn’t know what God had in store when He met him as he hid in a cave. Hannah didn’t know how God would use her when she was praying so hard that the priest thought she was drunk.

It feels like there’s no end to the examples. Peter when he was just a fisherman. Matthew when he was just a tax collector. The woman at the well when she was rejected by everyone around her. Paul when he was on his way to persecute Christians.

For thousands of years, God’s perfect plan to unite all nations—everyone who would come—through His Son remained a secret, a mystery. No one knew the plan but God. But they still played their part.

Resting in God’s Sovereignty

That is so humbling to me. Too often, I feel the need to know how things will go—whether in big ways, like when Jesus will return, or in small ways, like what I’ll write for this week’s blog post. But this week, I felt like God was gently reminding me that I don’t need to know the plan. He knows, so I just have to follow.

There’s a lot of freedom in trusting God’s plan. When we release our hold on the desire to know what the plan is, we make space to take hold of our Father’s hand instead. What a comfort that brings to the weary heart!

As I’m sitting on the couch at our retreat rental and writing this post, the best way I can describe what it feels like to lean into this truth is that it’s like a deep sigh of relief. I know there will be other times when I want to try figuring out the plan or making my own. But right now, I’m choosing to rest in God’s sovereignty—and I hope you’ll join me.