Weekly Devotional - Samantha
“He has made everything beautiful in its time.” Ecclesiastes 3:11
Why does it seem God is quietest when you need—or is it want—Him to be the loudest?
Why do you feel so alone when you know God is right there next to you?
Why do we have the most questions when walking through hard times, but seem to have all the answers when life is going wonderfully?
Sunday was Sabbath Sunday for our church, the day right after we go out into our community and help our neighbors with a multitude of different things. This year, for the first time, we weren’t able to serve—and I felt that absence. The stillness wasn’t just in the schedule but in my spirit. And on Sabbath Sunday, the quiet only grew louder.
What do you do when the noise of your routine fades, and all that’s left is God’s silence?
I wrestled with that silence—not in anger, but in awareness. Faith-rest isn't the same as worldly rest. It's not beach days and retail therapy, though those may bring temporary joy. Rest, in the way of faith, is intentional. It’s carving out time and space to simply be with God.
And sometimes, God chooses to meet us not with thunder but with a whisper—or nothing at all.
Ecclesiastes 3 reminded me of this truth: “He has made everything beautiful in its time.”
Not everything is beautiful now. Not everything feels whole or certain. My husband—my steady, strong one—faces a serious surgery soon. And though he puts on the brave face, I know fear has made its way into both our hearts. Still, God is not absent in this season. He is present in the quiet. He is shaping something eternal in the wait.
When I feel isolated, when no one checks in or asks how I’m really doing, I’m learning to lean into the silence—not as abandonment, but as invitation. God is reminding me that He is the one true Companion, the only constant, the stillness that holds me.
And maybe that's the discomfort of this Sabbath: realizing the quiet isn’t punishment—it's preparation. It's teaching. It's presence.
Because everything—even this—is made beautiful in its time.
Take a moment NOW to read Ecclesiastes chapter 3—slowly, intentionally. Let the rhythm of seasons, of time, of divine timing settle over your heart.
After reading, consider this:
What season are you in right now—and how might God be making even this season beautiful, even if it doesn't feel that way yet?
With Love, Sam Mosca
Why does it seem God is quietest when you need—or is it want—Him to be the loudest?
Why do you feel so alone when you know God is right there next to you?
Why do we have the most questions when walking through hard times, but seem to have all the answers when life is going wonderfully?
Sunday was Sabbath Sunday for our church, the day right after we go out into our community and help our neighbors with a multitude of different things. This year, for the first time, we weren’t able to serve—and I felt that absence. The stillness wasn’t just in the schedule but in my spirit. And on Sabbath Sunday, the quiet only grew louder.
What do you do when the noise of your routine fades, and all that’s left is God’s silence?
I wrestled with that silence—not in anger, but in awareness. Faith-rest isn't the same as worldly rest. It's not beach days and retail therapy, though those may bring temporary joy. Rest, in the way of faith, is intentional. It’s carving out time and space to simply be with God.
And sometimes, God chooses to meet us not with thunder but with a whisper—or nothing at all.
Ecclesiastes 3 reminded me of this truth: “He has made everything beautiful in its time.”
Not everything is beautiful now. Not everything feels whole or certain. My husband—my steady, strong one—faces a serious surgery soon. And though he puts on the brave face, I know fear has made its way into both our hearts. Still, God is not absent in this season. He is present in the quiet. He is shaping something eternal in the wait.
When I feel isolated, when no one checks in or asks how I’m really doing, I’m learning to lean into the silence—not as abandonment, but as invitation. God is reminding me that He is the one true Companion, the only constant, the stillness that holds me.
And maybe that's the discomfort of this Sabbath: realizing the quiet isn’t punishment—it's preparation. It's teaching. It's presence.
Because everything—even this—is made beautiful in its time.
Take a moment NOW to read Ecclesiastes chapter 3—slowly, intentionally. Let the rhythm of seasons, of time, of divine timing settle over your heart.
After reading, consider this:
What season are you in right now—and how might God be making even this season beautiful, even if it doesn't feel that way yet?
With Love, Sam Mosca
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