Then I read Zechariah 4:10, a verse about the rebuilding of the temple. The people were discouraged because the foundation looked pathetic compared to the glory of the old temple. It was just a pile of rocks. But God asks, "Who dares despise the day of small things?" It was a rebuke to my "all or nothing" mentality. God is rarely in the "thunderclap" moments; He is in the slow, boring, repetitive grind of the "small things." He loves the first wobbly step of a toddler just as much as the sprint of the athlete. I was waiting for a spotlight, and God was waiting for me to just show up and do the small, unglamorous work.
So, I changed my goal. I stopped trying to write a book. Instead, I committed to writing for fifteen minutes a day. Just fifteen. Some days it’s garbage. Some days it’s just a journal entry. But I’m doing it. I took the clothes off the treadmill and decided to walk for ten minutes. Not run. Just walk. It feels insignificant. It feels like it doesn't "count." But I’m learning that a river is carved by a steady trickle of water over time, not by one giant splash. Faithfulness is just a long series of small obediences strung together. I’m learning to fall in love with the process, not the product. The "small beginnings" aren't the failure; they are the seed. And you can't have a harvest without them. And last week, I ran my first 3-mile race without stopping.
