This morning I found myself reading Genesis 15:6:
“And he believed the LORD, and he counted it to him as righteousness.” (ESV)
As I reflected on Abraham’s story, I realized what made this moment so powerful. Abraham wasn’t simply encouraged with a generic reminder to “be patient” or “wait on the Lord.” God spoke a specific promise into his life—a promise that gave him something tangible to believe. He could look toward the future with confidence because God had declared what that future would hold.
That realization stirred something deep within me.
As I continue walking through this season of grief and rebuilding, I find myself longing for that same kind of certainty. I have heard the familiar encouragements many times: Wait on the Lord. Be patient. Trust God’s timing. Your day will come. They are all true, and I believe them. Yet today they feel more like broad truths than a personal word spoken into the unique circumstances of my life.
My heart longs for something more specific—not out of impatience, but out of a desire to anchor my hope in something that God has personally spoken.
I think of the widow in the Gospels who replied to Jesus, “Even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” Her faith wasn’t offended by receiving only a crumb. She believed that even a small word from the Master carried enough power to change everything.
That is how I feel today.
Lord, I am not asking for an elaborate revelation. I would gladly receive even a small crumb from Your table if it came from You. A single word. A clear direction. A promise I could carry into tomorrow with confidence.
Throughout Scripture You often met Your servants with unmistakable clarity. Angels announced Your plans. Dreams revealed Your purposes. Visions lifted the veil between earth and heaven. At times You even wrote with Your own finger. Those moments reminded Your people that You had not forgotten them and that history was still moving according to Your hand.
Today, however, the silence feels almost deafening.
It is not that I doubt Your existence or Your goodness. I simply miss hearing Your voice in a way that gives clear direction for the future. My heart longs to know that another chapter is still being written—that there is purpose beyond this season, joy beyond this grief, and hope beyond what I can presently see.
Until that day comes, I choose to continue believing what I already know to be true. You have never abandoned Your children. You have never broken a promise. Even when I cannot trace Your hand, I can still trust Your heart.
Perhaps faith is not always believing after hearing a promise. Sometimes faith is continuing to seek the Promiser while waiting for Him to speak.
So today, Lord, I wait—not because waiting is easy, but because You are worthy of being waited for. And if, in Your grace, You choose to place even the smallest crumb of encouragement before me, I will receive it with gratitude, believing that it came from the hand of a loving Father.
Until then, I will keep listening.