The God Who Never Changes Is Doing Something New
God created us to appreciate variety. He gave us the ability to enjoy millions of colors spread throughout creation, and those colors change moment by moment as sunlight moves across the sky. Every wave rolls toward the shore with its own shape, color, and texture. Yet God also created us to need consistency within change. We rely on the rhythm of day and night, the changing seasons, and the tides that continually ebb and flow. These dependable patterns reflect God’s faithfulness to our souls. He never changes as He leads us through life’s changing hills and valleys. He satisfies our need for beauty and variety while remaining the constant we desperately need when the world feels as though it is going crazy.
“For I the Lord do not change; therefore you, O children of Jacob, are not consumed.” Malachi 3:6 ESV
Comfortable Cocoons
Although God does not change, He does new things in our lives all the time. Sometimes, we crave consistency so much that we become stuck in a rut. I think that is one reason my coffee tastes so good during the quiet morning hours. It represents the comfort of my predictable routine. Familiar things can become a cocoon, surrounding and insulating us from the chaos of the world. There are seasons when we need the safety and rest of that cocoon, but we were not designed to spend our entire lives inside it.
We do not have to fear new things when God’s presence remains with us. He is the ultimate Creator. Like the ocean waves and the changing sky, His work is filled with beauty, movement, and variety, yet He remains the mighty Rock upon whom we can always rely. Maybe it is time to open our cocoons and discover the new thing God wants to do in our lives.
“Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?” Isaiah 43:19 ESV
Blocking the Blessing
Sometimes the greatest obstacle to receiving the new thing God wants to do is our unwillingness to release the past. Our hands, hearts, eyes, and minds can become so overloaded with old wounds, expectations, and familiar patterns that we have no room to receive something new. Processing trauma and grieving our losses are necessary parts of healing, but we were never meant to wrap ourselves permanently in our pain. God wants to surround us with His comfort, heal our wounds, and lead us forward.
God was leading Lot’s family away from destruction toward a place of safety, but Lot’s wife looked back and became a pillar of salt. Her story reminds us how dangerous it can be to remain attached to a place God is telling us to leave. We can hold so tightly to the past—to the way things have always been or the way we think they should have been—that we fail to perceive what God is placing before us.
We cannot clearly see what is ahead while continually looking behind us.
“Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old.” Isaiah 43:18 ESV
Possible Impossibilities
Just because something has been impossible for thousands of other people does not mean we should be afraid to ask God for it. When my mother contracted COVID-19, I was frightened. She was in her eighties and had lived with asthma for years. I would enter her room while she slept and pray not only that she would survive but also that she would emerge from COVID healthier than she had been before. It felt like an outrageous prayer, but considering her age and health, survival itself seemed unlikely. I was desperate enough to stretch out my faith, reach toward God, and ask.
My mother recovered, and to our amazement, her asthma symptoms disappeared afterward. God led us through COVID, but during that same dark journey, we lost my father. Our family experienced tremendous pain, yet God also sent streams into our desert. Family members, friends, and neighbors provided meals, medicine, prayers, and practical help. They became visible reminders that even in a wilderness, God can make a way.
“I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.” Isaiah 43:19 ESV
Looking Back
I could look back on those agonizing weeks and focus only on the fact that my father died alone in a hospital. I could surround myself with painful images of him in that hospital bed and continually question what I should have done differently. Those thoughts would not change what happened. Grief must be acknowledged and processed, but constantly reliving our trauma is not the same as healing from it.
Instead, I can place those painful memories into the hands of Jesus while remembering the ways God showed up for my mother and me. I am thankful that my father accepted the sacrifice Jesus made for his sins and that I will see him again in heaven. My mother and I choose to recognize the good God brought forth even within tragedy. We continue walking through the process of grief, surrounded by His tender and consistent comfort, while remaining open to whatever new thing He wants to do next.
“For I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people, the people whom I formed for myself that they might declare my praise.” Isaiah 43:20–21 ESV
