Mosaic (Jan 30)
- Amber Thiessen
- 1 minute ago
- 5 min read
My daughter wrote her first high school exams this week, and I found myself drifting backward in time—remembering my own.
The hordes of students packed into the hallway outside the gymnasium. The doors opening. Rows of desks waiting inside, each one holding a single exam. Every cough, every sniffle, every pencil drop echoing through the space as teachers’ squeaky footsteps paced the floor.
We talked about preparing and studying—about what felt familiar and what felt different. She told me about the accommodations her school now offers: some students beginning exams ahead of time in class, others finishing at lunch if they didn’t complete the three-hour sitting.
Certainly, some students truly need this. And yet, I couldn’t shake the quiet concern that sometimes, in our efforts to make things easier, we unintentionally reinforce a sense of fragility. They think, “I can’t do this, it’s too hard” and our unspoken message can sound like: You can’t do this. And our response becomes: You’re right—let’s lower the bar.
But part of growing up—part of being formed—is learning that we can do hard things.
And this isn’t just about schoolwork, chores, or workouts. It’s about faith.
When we expect life to be smooth, when we assume challenges should be softened for us, we forget not only the daily shape of Christian discipleship but also the mission of God itself.
Indulgence comes easily.
Self-control is a daily struggle.
Confession and repentance are vulnerable and tender—yet they deepen humility and faith.
Loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us? A tall order.
Establishing rhythms of Scripture, prayer, and accountability—these, too, lead us into hard things.
Scripture never presents the gospel as effortless. We are called to belong to Christ, indwelt by the Holy Spirit, equipped for good works—for God’s glory and the good of others. There’s nothing simple or easy about it.
In 1 Kings 17, an ordinary man suddenly steps into Israel’s story. Baal has taken hold of the nation through King Ahab and his Sidonian wife, Jezebel. Against this backdrop of compromise and fear, Elijah simply believes the word of the Lord—and acts on it.
He doesn’t shy away from hard things.
Elijah knows God, trusts Him, and follows Him straight into obedience that will bring hardship—obedience that will magnify God’s glory and deepen his own faith.
He proclaimed God’s word.
After Elijah’s brief introduction in 1 Kings, he wastes no time. He steps straight into the presence of the king and speaks words that carry weight and consequence.
He declares that Yahweh—the God of Israel—is alive. And he reminds Ahab of a promise spoken generations earlier, in the days of Moses: that if the nation turned from the Lord, the rain would cease (Deut. 11:13–17).
This is not Elijah offering an opinion or airing personal frustration. He is not reacting to Ahab’s leadership style or political decisions. He is speaking the word of the Lord to a people who belong to God.
Israel was set apart by God and for God—to be a light to the nations. And they had wandered far from that calling.
Elijah stands before the leader of Israel and prophetically speaks truth that is both confrontational and faithful. He names reality as God sees it.
And in that, we are reminded of our own calling.
As God’s people, we are image-bearers—living witnesses of His character to the world. We are called to attend carefully to our sin through confession and repentance, to care deeply about the purity of Christ’s bride, and to love—truly love—the grace of the gospel that restores us.
He prayed God’s Word.
James tells us that Elijah was a man of fervent prayer (5:17-18). A man ordinary like us, yet earnest and persistent. He prayed according to the word of God, and the heavens responded.
That raises a question to reflect on.
Am I growing in earnest prayer—not only for myself and my family, but for the church? For the gospel to go forth to the nations? For labourers to be sent into the harvest? For colleagues and loved ones who do not yet know Christ?
It is also worth noticing what Elijah’s prayer cost him.
The drought he prayed for would not only affect a wicked king or devoted Baal-worshipers—it would affect everyone, himself included. Elijah is driven into hiding. He waits by a brook until it dries up. And there, in the wilderness, God provides.
Ravens bring him bread and meat. His body is sustained, yes—but so is his faith. God provides, nourishing him not just physically but also spiritually. In obscurity and dependence, Elijah learns again that the Lord is faithful.
Isn’t it exactly here—in seasons of suffering and sojourning—that our trust grows deepest? As we watch God provide, again and again, He proves Himself faithful to His people.
He obeyed God’s Word.
“So he went and did according to the word of the Lord” (1 Kings 17:5)
Elijah’s obedience doesn’t look easy. It’s hard to imagine the courage required to confront King Ahab—knowing full well there would be consequences, knowing his life would likely be threatened.
Obedience is hard.
And yet Scripture is clear: obedience flows from love.
Jesus says, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments” (John 14:15). We are exhorted not to return to former ways of life (1 Pet. 1:14), and reminded that faithfulness may require us to obey God rather than men (Acts 5:29).
Elijah obeys not because obedience is safe or simple, but because he knows the Lord who has spoken. Knowing and believing God, he steps forward—trusting that the same God who commands also sustains.
And when obedience feels costly, we look to Christ.
Jesus is our truest example. He humbled Himself, becoming obedient to the point of death—even death on a cross (Phil. 2:8). He endured suffering, despised the shame, and remained faithful for the joy set before Him (Heb. 12:1–3).
This kind of obedience is not something we produce through our own strength. It is the work of the Spirit within us, sustained by grace, enabling us to persevere in faith.
So when obedience feels heavy, we remember that Christ has gone before us and now intercedes for us. He is present with us. He will provide what we need for the next faithful step.
Obedience may never be easy—but it is never empty. It always bears fruit.
What hard act of obedience might the Lord be using to deepen your trust in Him today?
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Prayers of faith aren’t about controlling outcomes, but about trusting God’s promises. We pray boldly where He has spoken clearly, and we entrust the rest to His wise and hidden will—believing He hears us and that He is at work, even when the answers aren’t yet clear. I think this will encourage you as you pray, as it did me.
I really appreciated Keri's reminder that rest is obedience. In the hustle and bustle of life, we will be busy doing many of the good things God has called us to, but it's an act of faith and obedience to let things go for a moment to pause and trust that He's got it all in His hands.
Here's a short encouragement on one thing you can do, and one thing you can say as we endeavour to share the gospel with others. I'm planning to do both!!
"To see Jesus doesn’t simply mean to notice him, to give him a passing glance, to know facts about him. It means seeing him spiritually with the perspective of faith. We need God to give us spiritual sight — new lenses — that we may behold Jesus as compellingly lovely and satisfying."
