"The work of restoration cannot begin until a problem is fully faced."
— Dan B. Allender
2 Kings 6–7: A Crisis Fully Faced
In 2 Kings 6:33, the king of Israel, overwhelmed by the siege-induced famine in Samaria, voices what many of us have felt in the pit of despair: “This misery is from the Lord! Why should I wait for the Lord any longer?” His hopelessness is raw—there is no pretense, no spiritual gloss, just a man at the end of himself. And it’s here that God speaks.
Elisha responds not with rebuke, but with a promise: “This is what the Lord says: By this time tomorrow, in the markets of Samaria, fine flour and barley will be sold at a fraction of today’s price” (2 Kings 7:1). In other words, restoration is not only possible—it’s imminent. But only for those who believe. The officer who mocked the possibility would see it with his eyes but never taste it (v. 2). There's something sobering in that—that doubt can blind us not just to what might be, but to what already is unfolding before us.
John 4: Nourishment in the Unexpected
Likewise, in John 4:31–38, the disciples are concerned with lunch while Jesus is operating on a completely different level. When they urge Him to eat, He replies, “I have food to eat that you know nothing about… My nourishment comes from doing the will of Him who sent me.” The work of God—His invisible, often misunderstood restoration process—was already bearing fruit. The disciples couldn’t see it yet, but the harvest was happening.
Jesus reminds them (and us), “Wake up and look around. The fields are already ripe for harvest” (v. 35). Like Elisha’s word to the king, it’s a call to faith in the middle of contradiction. What you see may scream famine, but what God says declares feast.
Journal Reflection
There are days when Scripture feels like a language I don’t understand—where the stories seem distant, and my own confusion clouds the meaning. I imagine the disciples must’ve felt this too. Jesus often spoke in terms they couldn’t yet grasp. And yet… they followed. And eventually, they understood.
These passages remind me that God doesn’t operate on my timeline or within the limits of my imagination. Restoration often begins at the very moment I’m convinced all is lost. When I feel stuck—disoriented by doubt, impatient in waiting, or simply worn down—it helps to remember that I’m not alone in this. The Bible is full of people who stood at the edge of despair only to find God already working behind the scenes.
Trusting in that reality doesn’t mean pretending everything’s okay. It means being honest about the problem—fully facing it—so that restoration has room to begin. Dan Allender was right: the healing doesn’t come until we stop minimizing the wound.
And in those moments of honesty—when the pain is real and the questions louder than the answers—I’m reminded of Romans 5:3–5:
“We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.”
Hope that doesn’t disappoint. That’s what He promises—not because the situation makes sense, but because His Spirit remains with me in it. When I slow down and focus on the day—on this moment—I find that He’s never left. The presence of God is most palpable in the places I least expect it.
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