It had been a long day—a long couple of weeks, really. I had spent several evenings out the week before for various reasons and ended up working unexpectedly over the weekend. With two young kids at home, sleep is hit or miss. After an early morning of housework, I headed into a full day of meetings, logistical tasks, and a few conversations that weren’t exactly enjoyable.
By evening, I was ready to go home, eat dinner, and hopefully unwind a bit. But when I walked through the door, my wife told me our daughter was sick and needed to go to urgent care. My wife needed to stay home with our newborn, so off my daughter and I went. After three hours of waiting with a sick toddler, we finally left with instructions and a prescription for an infection. But when we got to the pharmacy near our house, we realized the doctor had sent it to the wrong location. If we wanted the medicine, we had to drive across town to pick it up. I was so close to being done! So, off we went again.
When we arrived, the line was long, and just as we neared the front, my daughter needed to use the bathroom. We stepped out, took care of that, and got back in line—at the end. By the time we finally had the prescription and made it home, it was after 9 p.m. Neither of us had eaten dinner, and we were both exhausted.
I wish I could say this kind of day is rare, but honestly, it can be pretty normal in this season of life. And yet, it was here—in the middle of an exhausting and ordinary evening—that God spoke a simple, true reminder to me.
That morning, I had read a quote from R. C. Chapman, a nineteenth-century pastor known for his humility, love, and wisdom: “If Paul had much joy in his spiritual children at Philippi, he had much profit, though little joy, by those at Corinth, who by their many evils gave him so great occasion to show the heart of Christ.”
In some circumstances joy shines brightly, and in others it’s buried deep, but each holds its own blessing. This isn’t about pretending everything is fine or ignoring frustration. God welcomes our honesty, our lament, and our weariness. But He was gently reminding me to choose joy and to rest moment by moment in trust, even when the day goes sideways.
That night, in the commotion, I sensed Him whisper, “You can make this night harder by complaining and having a negative attitude, or you can trust Me and find joy here.” So I chose, as best I could, the latter. And even in the middle of that tiring night, I found myself enjoying time with my daughter. That simple choice to trust God made the evening lighter for both of us and turned a trial into a training ground for learning trust and righteousness when I didn’t naturally feel like it.
So many of life’s moments can be redeemed if we meet them with trust in God, seeing each one as an opportunity for God to shape our hearts. His presence can turn ordinary struggles into sacred ground.