Before you were born,
And were still too tiny forThe human eye to see,You won the race for lifeFrom among 250 million competitors.And yet,How fast you have forgottenYour strength,When your very existenceIs proof of your greatness.You were born a winner,A warrior,One who defied the oddsBy surviving the most gruesomeBattle of them all.And now that you are a giant,Why do you even doubt victoryAgainst smaller numbers,And wider margins?The only walls that exist,Are those you have placed in your mind.And whatever obstacles you conceive,Exist only because you have forgottenWhat you have alreadyAchieved.
― Suzy Kassem
― Suzy Kassem
NUMBERS 7
89When Moses entered the tent of meeting to speak with the Lord, he heard the voice speaking to him from between the two cherubim above the atonement cover on the ark of the covenant law. In this way the Lord spoke to him.(7:89)
JOURNAL
Years ago in Gatlinburg, our family was walking the strip when my brother-in-law handed me a pretzel stick with a tiny red drop on the tip. It looked harmless, almost laughable. Within seconds my eyes watered and I was wandering the streets like a madman searching for relief from the fire raging in my mouth. Only after pressing a soft serve ice cream cone onto my tongue did the heat finally surrender. It was funny, but unforgettable. Something almost invisible had completely overtaken me.
That moment comes back to me when I think about viruses, DNA, and the kingdom of God. A virus is microscopic, unseen by the naked eye, yet it can reshape nations, halt economies, or change the course of a life. DNA itself is invisible, yet it holds identity, heritage, and the blueprint of who we are. The smallest structures often carry the greatest power. Creation itself runs on this principle.
When I read Scripture slowly instead of skimming, I notice Jesus constantly describing the kingdom of God through small things: seeds, yeast, lamps, soil. He is teaching that God’s work rarely announces itself with spectacle at the beginning. It begins quietly, almost unnoticed. The mustard seed looks insignificant, easy to dismiss, but once planted it becomes shelter, life, and provision for others.
God works the same way in us. He moves through small acts of obedience, brief prayers, moments of surrender, tiny decisions toward truth. What looks weak or ordinary becomes transformative once touched by His presence. The rejected, overlooked, or doubting parts of our lives are often the very places where God plants His greatest work. Like that drop of heat in Gatlinburg or the invisible code within our DNA, the power was always present even when unseen.
The same power that formed galaxies and breathed life into humanity now dwells within those who belong to Him. Faith may begin as something microscopic, almost fragile, yet once rooted it grows into courage, endurance, love, and hope strong enough to shelter others. I forget this sometimes. I forget that my identity is already written, that my life carries divine intention, and that God specializes in multiplying what seems small.
The kingdom of God does not arrive through overwhelming force but through faithful beginnings. A seed. A word. A surrender. A life transformed from the inside out.
11For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
Years ago in Gatlinburg, our family was walking the strip when my brother-in-law handed me a pretzel stick with a tiny red drop on the tip. It looked harmless, almost laughable. Within seconds my eyes watered and I was wandering the streets like a madman searching for relief from the fire raging in my mouth. Only after pressing a soft serve ice cream cone onto my tongue did the heat finally surrender. It was funny, but unforgettable. Something almost invisible had completely overtaken me.
That moment comes back to me when I think about viruses, DNA, and the kingdom of God. A virus is microscopic, unseen by the naked eye, yet it can reshape nations, halt economies, or change the course of a life. DNA itself is invisible, yet it holds identity, heritage, and the blueprint of who we are. The smallest structures often carry the greatest power. Creation itself runs on this principle.
When I read Scripture slowly instead of skimming, I notice Jesus constantly describing the kingdom of God through small things: seeds, yeast, lamps, soil. He is teaching that God’s work rarely announces itself with spectacle at the beginning. It begins quietly, almost unnoticed. The mustard seed looks insignificant, easy to dismiss, but once planted it becomes shelter, life, and provision for others.
God works the same way in us. He moves through small acts of obedience, brief prayers, moments of surrender, tiny decisions toward truth. What looks weak or ordinary becomes transformative once touched by His presence. The rejected, overlooked, or doubting parts of our lives are often the very places where God plants His greatest work. Like that drop of heat in Gatlinburg or the invisible code within our DNA, the power was always present even when unseen.
The same power that formed galaxies and breathed life into humanity now dwells within those who belong to Him. Faith may begin as something microscopic, almost fragile, yet once rooted it grows into courage, endurance, love, and hope strong enough to shelter others. I forget this sometimes. I forget that my identity is already written, that my life carries divine intention, and that God specializes in multiplying what seems small.
The kingdom of God does not arrive through overwhelming force but through faithful beginnings. A seed. A word. A surrender. A life transformed from the inside out.
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