Learning to trust God Archives - Christy Miller Bell

God is Enough: A Widow’s Lesson in Trusting His Sufficiency

Aug 19, 2026

We keep waiting to feel like we have surplus before we trust God. The widow shows us sufficiency doesn't wait for surplus. It shows up in the lack.

“For they gave a tiny part of their surplus, but she, poor as she is, has given everything she had to live on.” — Mark 12:44

As I watch my kids navigate adulthood, memories flood my mind. Times when we had plenty and times of want. Moments filled with joy and others laced with sadness. All the things we couldn’t foresee, now reality. But I am thankful for the struggles. During these incredible moments of hardship, of not knowing the outcome, we learned our most valuable lessons in trust.

One experience, in particular, stands out. We didn’t know how we were going to make it. With a dwindling bank account and no job opportunities, we moved in with my parents. Then, as if things couldn’t get more stressful, we found out our son would make his debut that November. We were forced to choose. Option one: look at our situation in despair and let worry win — striving in our own power and ultimately failing. Option two: trust God, our source. But that meant letting go and trusting God to supply in the middle of our lack.

Give Some or Give All

In Mark 12, Jesus draws our attention to a woman who did just that. Her faithfulness to give all demonstrated her love for God. But there’s so much more in this passage than the motivation of this selfless woman. The original wording describes the comparison Jesus makes between the scribes and this poor widow. He tells his disciples that these men gave out of the surplus. The extra. They made investments with their money and out of the bounty of those investments, they gave some. This isn’t altogether bad. But don’t get the picture wrong. They didn’t give all their earnings or even the required allotment. They gave the leftovers.

Compare their giving (and sometimes my own heart of giving) to that of the widow. It’s important to note that she was described as a poor widow. In Jesus’s day, these women were the lowest class. Dependent on generous relatives to provide for them. And this particular woman gave the smallest amount possible. The penny you pick up in the parking lot. But it was all she owned.

This incredible sacrifice fills me with shame. How could she give all that she had? How would she eat? How would she survive? These are my own questions in times of want. Yet in the beautiful language of the Bible, the words tell a deeper story. She gave out of her poverty and demonstrated an important lesson for me thousands of years later. Difficult seasons reveal the motivation of my heart.

Watching God Provide, One Day at a Time

This woman lost her husband and her means of survival. In the tragedy of that loss, she learned that God was all sufficient. He met every need. What appears to me as a great sacrifice was, to her, a joy. Can’t you see the smile on her face as she dropped those two tiny coins into the box? An offering that cost her everything. She wasn’t concerned with her next meal or how to keep the lights on. The only thing that mattered to her in that moment was obedience.

Somehow, though, I believe she had a basket of fresh vegetables on her doorstep when she got home. Maybe a friend shared some of her freshly baked bread. And the cut firewood mysteriously appeared next to her house each evening. Perhaps the thing that brought her the greatest joy was watching all the ways God provided each day. In the middle of her lack, she learned that God loves. And he is enough.

“Day by day the Lord takes care of the innocent, and they will receive an inheritance that lasts forever. They will not be disgraced in hard times; even in famine they will have more than enough.” — Psalm 37:18-19

Do you need a reminder of God’s faithfulness in the past? Read more about that here.

Where Lack Becomes Sufficiency

Looking back, those months of scarcity were some of the hardest (and best) my husband and I walked through. A check arrived in the mail at just the right time. Friends brought us the surplus from their garden. The extra they gave was the thing we needed most. We caught ourselves waiting to see how God would provide, almost enjoying the anticipation of watching him work.

And in the middle of our hardest season, our lack became more than a problem to overcome. It became the place where God revealed he is sufficient to meet our deepest needs.

Where are you waiting to feel like you have surplus before you trust him? What might he want to show you in the lack you're standing in right now? I'd love to know. Comment below. I read every one.

A Lesson in Bravery from a Beggar

Aug 6, 2026

Perfectionism keeps me stuck. Bartimaeus shows what it looks like to ask boldly, commit fully, and trust God with the outcome.

August is my least favorite month. Besides the heat and humidity outside, school starts back. I have to say goodbye every year to kids going to college and my husband — a teacher who’s been home all summer. It brings its own kind of sadness. So this first week of August, instead of sitting in that misery, I decided to visit my daughter.

It’s nothing new to help my kids. That’s the thing that brings me the most joy in life. We cleaned, organized, and unpacked boxes (remember the moving fiasco and the hospitality of new friends). We talked about life and enjoyed good coffee. But there was more that God had in mind for this trip than I anticipated.

The Truth Comes Out

On the first night, my daughter invited me to a painting party with a friend — the kind where you follow step-by-step and paint a door hanger with your own hands. My daughter is an artist. A potter and a painter. She’s right at home with a few bottles of acrylic and a brush. It wasn’t long before she had a beautiful creation. I watched her tilt her head from side to side, deciding where to put the brush. A swish of color here, a bit of white there, and in a few strokes she added depth and beauty to the wood.

She wasn’t afraid to go further than everyone else in the room. It’s the thing I most admire about her. But I had an uncomfortable realization in those few hours we spent painting: I was afraid. Fearful of making a mistake. Terrified that I wouldn’t measure up — that everyone would see how much I’d messed up. I wasn’t in a room full of artists. It was ordinary people who wanted to have fun. But I questioned every brush stroke.

Not a New Problem

This isn’t a new problem for me. For most of my life, I’ve judged myself harshly. Been my own worst critic. It’s cost me some pretty great opportunities, because I overthink and expect perfection at every moment. Even writing a simple newsletter becomes a nightmare of second-guessing and uncertainty.

This same problem came up again the next night. My daughter invited me to work with some clay in her studio. She created the project form, told me what to do each step of the way, and guided me to be creative. But throughout the process, I kept changing my mind — questioning my own judgment.

“Mom,” she said. “You just have to pick something and commit. Don’t worry about how it turns out. That’s what makes it fun.”

Words of wisdom from my child. How many times have I stopped a project, not because I couldn’t finish, but because I was afraid of what people might think? Worried that if I opened myself up and let people see the real me, they’d tell me to be quiet or simply walk away. I’ve experienced both.

A Beggar Who Took a Chance

Sitting in my daughter’s studio with clay all over my hands, I recognized her desire to do what she loved, what God has called her to do, no matter what people thought about her. And I remembered the story I read just that morning about a beggar on a dusty road in Jericho.

Bartimaeus was blind. Unable to work, he begged on the roadside for help. There was nothing he could do to change his situation, but he’d heard about the man who could heal. “Jesus!” He yelled as loud as he could. But the crowd rebuked him. Shut up. Don’t bother the Teacher. He doesn’t have time for you.

When Bartimaeus heard that Jesus of Nazareth was nearby, he began to shout, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” “Be quiet!” many of the people yelled at him. But he only shouted louder, “Son of David, have mercy on me!”

— Mark 10:47-48

What if Bartimaeus listened to them? What if he’d quieted down and stopped asking? He would have missed the greatest event of his life — the thing that changed the entire trajectory of his existence. He probably wasn’t the only beggar on the road that day. But he was the one bold enough to ask. And that day, when Jesus gave him back his sight, everything changed.

I’ve felt that fear of being noticed — of asking boldly for anything, even help — more times than I’d like to admit. If a racing, second-guessing mind feels familiar to you too, I wrote more about that here.

Being Brave

The process of letting go of my fear and uncertainty takes practice. It takes solitary moments of not worrying about what people think when I create something. It means striving forward without perfection — moving with purpose through the uncomfortable fear and doing it anyway. And it means being bold enough to ask for help when I know it will make my life better.

There’s something beautiful about doing it anyway. About finding strength to do the hard, uncomfortable thing even when uncertainty hits hard. So I picked up the clay again and, this time, I kept going. Hands dirty, shaping something imperfect, and letting it be enough.

That’s what it looks like when faith overcomes fear. Not certainty. Just enough courage to commit.

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What are you afraid to commit to? Comment below. I read every one.

Have You Forgotten What God Has Already Done For You?

Jul 22, 2026

Most of us believe God is faithful. We've seen it. We've lived it. And then worry comes anyway. Our stomach churns and our minds won’t rest. Sometimes even a seasoned faith doesn't silence an anxious heart. Here's an honest look at what a single boat ride in the Gospel of Mark has to say about the peace we're desperate to find.

My son called this morning. He’s just starting out — newly married and about to begin graduate school. They are trying to make it on their own, and it’s hard. There are so many unanswered questions about their future. Yet, my son is not afraid. “God will take care of us,” he tells me.

I wish I had that kind of faith.

You would think that, after years of being a Christian, I would have reached the point where I could blindly trust God. He’s been so good. He’s done so much. Provided in miraculous ways. But last night I couldn’t sleep. Again. Tossing and turning. Worrying about the future and my own unanswered questions.

When I Can’t Sleep, I Pray

Lord, I know you don’t want me to be anxious, but I don’t see a way through. Will you calm my anxious mind? Will you show me new things in your Word to give me peace and confidence? Don’t give up on me yet. I’m slowly learning. And I need you…

The next thing I know, it’s morning and, though a headache pounds, I open my Bible to the passages I’ve been meditating on for days. Mark 8:1-21.

If a racing mind at night is a familiar place for you too, I wrote more about that season here.

One Loaf, No Faith

“Now they had forgotten to bring bread, and they had only one loaf with them in the boat” (Mark 8:14).

I thought about passing by this verse. After all, it’s only a description of their circumstances. But Mark’s words are intentional. Every verse packed with meaning.

There they are in the boat. Their stomachs growling with only one small loaf among them.

“What are we going to do? How much will each of us get? Why didn’t we plan better?”

And Jesus replied, “Why are you worried about bread? Don’t you understand? Have you forgotten all that I’ve already done?”

Over and over again, Jesus demonstrated his power, provision, and patience to those who followed his ministry. He performed miracle upon miracle. Providing bread for thousands. Not once, but twice. Healing the sick and the lame. The blind and the deaf. How could the disciples question such a small thing as one loaf of bread when the Bread of Life was in the boat with them?

Like the disciples, I am slow to learn. Slow to believe. I allow the worries of the world to crowd in and push out my faith. But Jesus reminds them — and me — of the facts.

"When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you take up?" They said to him, “Twelve.” And the seven for the four thousand, how many baskets full of broken pieces did you take up?" And they said to him, “Seven.” And he said to them, “Do you not yet understand?”

— Mark 8:19-21

Have You Forgotten?

How many times have I gone without food? None. How many times has God let me go without what I truly needed? Not once — even when I couldn’t see how it would come.

Notice that Jesus didn’t simply provide enough. He provided in abundance. The people he fed ate as much as they wanted until they were satisfied, and still the baskets leftover were full. Each number a reminder of God’s continual provision for the people of Israel throughout the Old Testament. The same God who provided in the past is with the disciples in the boat.

And this same God is present and active in my life today through the dwelling of the Holy Spirit. And it’s not just enough. There’s an abundant life waiting for me if I’ll just believe. More than enough of God’s grace and goodness. More than enough power and provision. More than enough love and compassion.

So I don’t have to worry about where the money will come from or how the problem will be solved. If God has led me and I have been obedient, I can count on him to provide.

Faith Passed Down

When my son called this morning, I didn’t tell him about the tossing and turning, or the prayer I prayed in the dark. I just listened to him speak with confidence — God will take care of us — and for a second, I let myself believe it the way he does.

I think that’s the way faith gets passed down. Not because I’ve mastered it, but because he’s seen me reach for it over and over again, in front of him. My mind can rest, not because the questions are answered, but because I know who holds the answers. And he's there for you, too, when you’re struggling in the night.

When is the last time you counted the ways God has come through for you? Pull out a piece of paper. Write down three. Put them near your bed for the nights you can't sleep and need a reminder.

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Is Your Fear Bigger Than Your Faith Right Now?

Jul 8, 2026

Some nights the silence in the room roars louder than any noise. This post is for anyone who has found themselves awake at 2 AM, running the numbers, replaying conversations, and wondering if God is paying attention. It is an honest look at what happens when fear outpaces faith and what Scripture says about the storms that refuse to stop on our timeline.

A Brewing Storm

I’m up again at 2 AM. My mind swirling with a to-do list miles long and all the questions of how I’ll be able to make it all work. The lyrics to a song play on repeat in my head. Words spoken in anger filter through the rubble of my thoughts. People I need to call. Plans to make. Details to figure out. The silence of my room roars in my ears. Lightning flashes in the sky. There’s a storm coming.

Finally, I get out of bed and walk around hoping that will help me relax and let go of the anxious thoughts. But still they follow me. How will I get the money I need? When will I see a return on my investment? Maybe I need to work harder, do more, give more? And I grow more anxious and more awake and more aware of my inability to solve these problems.

Chaos in the Night

Then I remember the words I read just this morning — or by now it was yesterday morning. The disciples were in a boat crossing the sea when a sudden storm takes them by surprise. Angry waves beat against the boat and shove it up and down and sideways. Sheeting rain makes it hard to see and the salt spray from the sea stings their eyes. They’ve been in storms before, but this one is raging. Mark 4:37 describes it this way, “And there arose a fierce gale of wind, and the waves were breaking over the boat so much that the boat was already filling up.” The blasting wind threatens to break the mast like a toothpick while the frantic men expel the water. But it’s no use. All their effort isn’t changing anything. I know what this kind of panic feels like.

During the chaos, Jesus is sound asleep in the cargo hold. His peaceful presence a sharp contrast to the violent uproar of the creation around him. The disciples question to him is my own question so many days — Jesus, can’t you see what’s happening? Don’t you care?

Jesus doesn’t respond to their doubts. He shows them who is in charge.

As I write early this morning before the sun comes up, my thoughts are a violent swarm of chaos. And in this motionless room I hear Jesus saying, “Why are you afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

When the Waves Keep Coming

And my answer is: It’s complicated. Some days faith is easy. When I see the sun rise each day and sing songs of praise on a Sunday morning. But when problems come in wave upon wave and I see no way out and I feel like I’m drowning, faith is hard to grasp. I try so hard to work out the problems on my own and fail. Why is Jesus my last resort?

Do I believe Jesus is still Lord over all creation? Does he care?

The answer is yes. I know it in the way he reminds me of his words in the night. I see it in the sky lit up with lightning. I hear it in the calm brush of the trees.

So I’ll go back to bed now and remember that Jesus still holds power over all the earth. The rain begins to fall on the roof and I can relax. He is strong enough to handle my worries and fears. There’s no problem he can’t solve or situation that is too overwhelming. He cares so much he was willing to die so that I might live. If Jesus can calm the wind and waves, he can calm the storm in my heart.

If this post met you in the middle of your storm, share it with someone who needs it today. And if you want more honest encouragement like this delivered to your inbox, subscribe below. You belong in this community.

I'm In

Cracked Cisterns: What Self-Reliance Really Costs You

Jun 10, 2026

Jeremiah 2:13 exposes what our self-reliance really costs us. When we dig our own wells searching for our own sources we end up thirsty. Here's where real life-giving water comes from.

For my people have done two evil things:

They have abandoned me — the fountain of living water. And they have dug for themselves cracked cisterns that can hold no water at all!

— Jeremiah 2:13

My hands are clinched tight. I sit in my chair, eyes closed. The struggles of the past few days have been overwhelming. I have everything to be thankful for, yet in my heart there is no peace. I’m unsettled, unsatisfied. Searching for something I can’t quite grasp. As I breathe in and out, I realize the problem. I’ve been digging. Frantically excavating answers to quiet the ache within.

A Habit of Digging In

When life gets difficult, and changes come that I don’t expect, I get lost in my own thoughts. Worry presses in. I'm reaching for my phone instead of my Bible. Scrolling social media instead of seeking the truth of God’s Word. I busy myself with tasks that feel productive but leave me emptier. I research, read articles, make plans. And still, the thirst remains. Before I realize it, I’ve abandoned God’s way altogether. Instead of finding my way back to him, I dig in my heels and fight alone. Determined to make it on my own, but never finding satisfaction or joy. I’ve been trying to drink from wells I carved for myself, and they’re all running dry.

The people of Jeremiah’s day wanted the freedom to live how they wanted to live, but in choosing to go their own way, they abandoned the God who created them. The people sought fulfillment in the common gods of the nations around them. Instead of reciting all God did for them in the past during worship in the Temple, they remained silent. Like me, they chose to forget about God’s continuous protection and his hand that guided them. The Israelites wanted to be like everyone else around them instead of fulfilling their true calling to be the holy, set-apart people of God. They intentionally chose to walk away from God. Jeremiah’s words compare their attitude to carving cracked cisterns.

Empty Buckets

Ancient cisterns were wells dug in the earth and filled with fresh rain water. When the well cracked, it couldn’t hold water. It dried up quickly and the remaining water became polluted. Imagine kneeling at a well like this. Lowering the bucket with hope only to pull up mud and disappointment. The realization that all your effort produced nothing life-giving. When I choose self-reliance over trusting God, I’m left holding a bucket of regret and shame.

There are days I can’t see past the darkness of my own thoughts. Instead, all I see are the things I don’t have, the hurts I’ve experienced, the pain others have caused me. When I choose to walk my own path away from God, I abandon his purpose and intention in my life. I may attain success in the world’s eyes, but the heartbreaking truth is that God is not pleased with my effort. My human-powered life will be limited in scope, destructive, and always consuming…never giving. Just like that broken down well.

The Well That Never Runs Dry

The goal is not to dig more wells or to have more things. The goal is a relationship with the Giver of Life. When I stop digging, put down my shovel, and open my hands to God, he can do more than I could ever ask or imagine. Jesus is my Source of Life. He is the well that never runs dry. When I release my white-knuckle hold and trust him, I am filled to the brim. Out of my heart will flow rivers of living water, drawing others to want to know him, too. Then, as I learn to trust God, I can offer hope to others around me. This once broken cistern becomes an overflowing well of life and hope for others.

Have you ever found yourself digging frantically instead of drinking from the living water? What white-knuckle hold do you need to release? Leave a comment below or hit reply.

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This is the second in a series on Jeremiah. If you missed the first article read it here: When the Wait Is All You Have.

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