The Hand That Shapes Us

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28 (CSB).

Have you ever had one of those moments where God speaks through something completely ordinary? Mine happened while watching a baker make bread. I recently watched a short on the Angel App called “Bread and Life.” Something about the title made me pause. I’m so glad I did.

The video began with hands working on dough and a voice explaining that in Egypt, the word for bread is “aish,” which also means “life.”

When Nothing Makes Sense

The baker started with four simple ingredients: flour, water, salt, and yeast. Mixed together, they created what he called “a sticky, clumpy mess.” Not exactly inspiring, right?

I couldn’t help but think about how sometimes everything feels jumbled together in ways that don’t make sense. The unexpected diagnosis is compounded by job uncertainty. Teenage drama intertwined with marriage challenges. It all feels so… messy.

But this baker wasn’t discouraged by the mess. He just smiled and said, “You let it sit, and it loosens up.”

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” - (Proverbs 3:5 (CSB).

Sometimes, the best thing we can do is stop trying to force everything to make sense right now.

The Art of Being Still

What happened next surprised me. The baker didn’t rush. He let the dough rest, then came back to fold it gently. When it started to resist, he walked away again.

“All the real changes are happening on the inside,” he explained. “If you watched it, you wouldn’t think anything was happening at all.”

That hit me. How many times have I felt forgotten during the quiet seasons? When everyone else seems to be moving forward, and my life feels stuck in place? When prayers feel unanswered, and dreams feel distant?

But what if the stillness isn’t emptiness? What if it’s fullness—just the kind we can’t see yet?

Be still, and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10 (CSB).

The baker mentioned how the dough was being filled from the inside during those quiet moments. Growing in ways that would become apparent later.

Heat and Hope

Near the end of the process, the baker shaped the dough one final time and then placed it in the oven. “The hotter the better,” he said with confidence.

I thought about the intense seasons of life, those times when everything feels too much. When the pressure builds and, you wonder if you’ll make it through. When the heat of circumstances feels unbearable.

But the baker’s face was peaceful as he watched through the oven window. He knew what was coming. He’d done this before. He understood that the heat wasn’t meant to destroy. It was meant to complete.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned (Isaiah 43:2 (CSB).

Trusting the Process

When the timer went off, and that loaf emerged, the baker said something that resonated: “You really know how to bake bread when you don’t need to read the instructions anymore. You can just feel it.”

I sat there thinking about God’s hands on my life. How He doesn’t need to consult a manual to know what I need or when I need it. How He can sense what’s happening in my heart even when I can’t articulate it myself. There’s something deeply comforting about being known that completely.

Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely (Psalm 139:4 (CSB).

For You Today

As I write this final blog post, I want to leave you with something that will anchor your heart in the storms and sustain you in the stillness:

You’re being shaped by hands that know exactly what they’re doing.

The messy moments aren’t mistakes. They’re raw materials.

The quiet seasons aren’t punishment. They’re preparation.

The intense times aren’t abandonment. They’re completion.

Your life has a purpose, even when you can’t see the pattern.

Your pain has meaning, even when it feels random.

Your story has hope, even when the current chapter is hard.

In Egypt, they understand something beautiful: bread and life are the same word. What sustains, nourishes, and gives us strength all comes through a process we don’t always understand but can learn to trust.

For 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 (Jeremiah 29:11 (CSB).

The hands that shape us belong to the One who loves us most. Trust them today, dear friend. Trust the process. Trust the timing. Trust the One who sees the beautiful finished work even when all you see is the mess. Your story is still being written, and it’s going to be beautiful.