Pour-Over: Trusting God for Breakfast

The steps of a man are established by the LORD,
when he delights in his way;
though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong,
for the LORD upholds his hand.
— Psalm 37:23–24

A little behind-the-scenes this morning over coffee. “Give Me This Mountain” was adapted from a sermon I preached this past weekend at the Glendale congregation, so it felt like a good early addition to the blog. But since writing and presenting it, I’ve been sitting with Caleb’s story, and it just won’t let me go. Here’s this 85-year-old man, staring at the same giant-infested mountain he saw 45 years earlier, and instead of hoping someone else will deal with it, he says, “I’ll take that one.”

That phrase has been looping in my head like a song I can’t shake.

Some mornings, I wake up ready to take a mountain. Other mornings, I’m just trying to get to lunch without getting distracted by the “giants” around me.

Lately, I’ve been realizing that most of life with God isn’t a string of epic “Caleb moments.” I’ve had a few mini versions of those, but mostly they’re just small steps. Ones that don’t feel like much at the time. Caleb’s faith didn’t just happen at 85 when he asked for Hebron — it was proven when standing against the ten spies (Num. 13:30) and nurtured over those forty-five years of walking in circles, trusting God for breakfast.

I’m not in a wilderness exactly, but I am in a season where the steps feel small. The internal monologue of reluctance before answering a difficult text. The tiny act of obedience in opening my Bible when my mind is already racing ahead to the day’s tasks. It’s a long, quiet walk on the flatlands between mountains, and it’s easy to wonder if you’re even moving at all.

That’s why I’ve been chewing on those words from Psalm 37. The promise isn’t just that God sees my steps — it’s that my steps are “established” by him. That word doesn’t mean “permitted” or “watched.” It means founded, designed, and given purpose. Even when a step feels flimsy and inconsequential to me, it’s a paving stone he is setting in place.

Then there’s the promise for when I inevitably trip. The text says I “shall not be cast headlong.” It’s not a promise that I won’t stumble, but that the fall won’t be a catastrophic, face-first disaster. It’s the difference between a trip and a plunge. Why? Because the LORD “upholds his hand.” It’s the image of a father keeping his child steady on a rocky path. The grip is firm. The fall is contained.

We’re all facing different mountains today. But if your faith feels more like a slow walk than a sprint, maybe that’s not a failure. Maybe it’s the way God builds the kind of faith that never gets old — the kind of faith that grows slowly through all those small in-between moments.

So today, I’m not trying to demand a whole mountain in one go. I’m just taking one small, steady step. And I’m trusting that if I keep walking with him, I’ll look back someday and realize those steps prepared me for something much greater.

The coffee’s gone now, and the sun’s up. Time to take that first step! 

See you on the trail.

This post is a behind-the-scenes reflection on my latest article. You can read the full post here: Give Me This Mountain →