TODAY is a promise.

The past couple of days haven’t been too great for me, and TODAY didn’t start out much different. To add to the list of things that have gone wrong (one of them being a minor hit-and-run incident which cracked the back bumper of my car), I had some pretty hurtful accusations hurled at me this morning. Although it was really just a misunderstanding, the accusations were stuck in my head, doing damage all the live-long day. To add to this personal and relational aggravation, my rent was raised (despite the fact that I’ve been getting less and less hours at work). Practically, emotionally, physically I felt affronted.

All day I tried to keep my mind off of the little things that were slowly converging and becoming one BIG gigantic mess. You know how it can be when one little thing after another little thing piles up so high that you can’t see above it, so high that you feel you might fall apart at the slightest suggestion of one more little bad thing.

It felt like a flood of “little things” and I was sinking.

As I was driving around Newport News, I remembered a promise in Romans 8:28. In that passage it says that all things work together for good to those who love God.

Although there are many little things that I haven’t seen “working together” for any kind of good yet, I felt some peace in that promise. It is a PROMISE after all. I kept thinking that over and over. It’s a promise, a promise, a PROMISE.

Later TODAY, I stepped outside and saw something amazing: a rainbow.

You’re probably thinking… LAME! Honestly, if I hadn’t been there, I might have thought the same thing too. But when you see a rainbow live and in person… I mean, it’s just breathtaking.

And it wasn’t even just the rainbow. The first things I noticed when I stepped out of my apartment, was the odd distribution of light. Before I even saw the rainbow, I noticed that half of the sky was almost completely dark and full of storm clouds, while the other was bright and sparsely dappled with full white clouds.

Then I saw the rainbow between the two.

It wasn’t until I got in my car and started to drive that I realized what was happening. The sun was projecting the rainbow onto the canvas of the dark clouds. If it weren’t for the storm and its clouds, you wouldn’t have been able to see the rainbow at all.

I kept driving, and eventually turned so all I saw was the side of the sky that was bright and beautiful. The storm was behind me.

And I thought about God’s promise.

One of the first promises ever made was God’s promise to Noah. God promised life instead of death, protection instead of destruction, mercy instead of punishment, peace instead of torment. And He gave the rainbow as His signed contract.

This might sound crazy, but I truly believe that rainbow was for me today. I felt God whisper in my ear. He was saying, I promise life instead of death. I promise that all things will work together for good. I promise I won’t let you drown in the flood of little things. I promise that the storm you see now will be the canvas for a masterpiece, a masterpiece that only I can create. I PROMISE.

TODAY is shifting sand.

Have you ever stood at the edge of the ocean right as the waves begin to recede? If you have, you know the odd phenomenon that takes place. For some reason, even though you are standing perfectly still, it feels as though you are moving farther and farther away from the water. Then, once the receding waves rejoin the rest of the ocean, you realize you haven’t moved at all. Usually you’re left standing in the sunken impressions of your own feet, proving that it was not you that moved but the waters around you.


Have you ever watched a movie (I know you have) where the main character suddenly falls into a pit of quick sand? For some reason, I always wanted to encounter quick sand like that as a kid. I felt so sure that if I was ever in Indiana Jones’ position, I’d know exactly what to do to pull myself up. But apparently it was never that easy. The harder Jones tried to pull himself out, the deeper he’d sink. The more he moved, the further he’d fall. And no matter how wary he may have been, he always seemed to find his foot stuck in some kind of natural trap—a foundation feigning sturdy security but offering nothing but sinking sand.

I’ve just come to realize that life is a whole lot like that.

I always thought that at some point, I would step out of the sinking sand and be able to walk on something concrete. I thought that once I hit a certain point of maturity, I’d know exactly who I was. And everyone I knew would know me for who I thought I was (if you can follow that logic). Decisions would be easy. Bank accounts would be sure. My future would be decided. If I wanted to pursue my own path, the ground would hold me up along the way. If I wanted to stand still, I wouldn’t budge.

But life is shifting sand.

Now that I’ve become an adult with a certain amount of influence and responsibility, I am realizing that my contemporaries are just as unsure as I am. I’m finding that no two people will ever fully agree on anything. No one way ever comes to the exact conclusion previously projected. My decisions will propel me toward a certain destination, yes, but I might not get there exactly how I imagined. Plans fall through. People change. I change. Even if I decided to never alter my actions or attitude, to never move, to always do what I am currently doing, there is no way to keep my circumstances from shifting right below my feet. Like standing on the edge of the ocean, my situation moves and I can’t help but feel the effects. And when I decide to change my circumstances, there’s no sure path without hidden sand traps along the way.

This is NOT a message of defeat or failure. It IS a message of adventure. A realization leading to relief, the realization that there’s no perfect plan without trials or mishaps. If you haven’t gotten the sand to stand firm beneath you, you’re in good company. You are not the only one feeling the tides changing around you! You are not the only one who has to take four steps back for every two you take forward. That’s life. That’s TODAY. It’s shifting sand, no matter how you look at it.