The balcony outside my apartment is slowly becoming a tiny sanctuary for one of my favorite visitors: the mourning dove I mentioned in a prior post. I’m not trying to attract every bird in the neighborhood (although I wouldn't hate it if I did), just this one gentle friend who keeps stopping by. So, I found a big feeder bowl for birds on Amazon, filled it with seed, and set it securely on the railing, just for him.
Then I waited.
It didn’t take long for him to find it. At first, he was cautious, barely landing long enough to grab a few seeds before darting away at the slightest movement. His eyes were always scanning, his wings ready to lift off at the hint of danger. But by the end of the week, he stayed a little longer. His quick pecks slowed down, and eventually, he made a major change. He grew so comfortable that he didn’t just eat, he lounged in the food bowl. Now, I wake up in the mornings and find him settled right there, as if it’s his personal recliner, quietly watching the world move far below on the street.
This past week, we had one of those storms that makes the news…the kind where phones buzz with emergency alerts, events are canceled, the wind howls like it’s trying to pull the sky down, and rain pounds against the windowsills. By morning, branches were scattered across sidewalks, people were out cleaning up debris, and there, right in the middle of it all, sat my mourning dove, perched in his food bowl, calm as ever, watching the world recover.
As I watched him, I had a thought. He wouldn’t sit in the food bowl if he didn’t feel safe. And what does it really mean to feel safe? On this earth, feeling safe means you’re protected, it means you’re taken care of, it means you’re loved.
That little dove has gone from being afraid to knowing his needs are met. He doesn’t panic anymore. Even after a storm, he sits there, unbothered, watching the world carry on. Honestly, I think if I walked out on the balcony, I’m not even sure he would fly away.
Isn’t it amazing what happens to us when we know we’re safe? When we know we’re protected? When we know we’re loved? Fear loses its grip. We stop flinching at every sound or shadow, and we begin to rest right where we are, like that dove in his bowl of seed, knowing there’s enough, knowing there’s no need to rush or hide.
The problem is we forget we are safe on an everyday basis, that God holds us in His holy hands. When we have forgotten, when we have spiritual amnesia, fear sneaks in where it doesn’t belong. Fear whispers that we don’t have enough. It tries to tell us we're not loved. It tries to convince us God isn’t who He promises to be.
And yet, hasn’t life proven differently? Hasn’t He always taken care of me? Haven’t I always been fed? Haven’t I always been safe? Haven’t I always been loved?
Yes, I have. I know I have. So why panic when the storms roll in?
We are the dove, the ones who can lay in the food bowl, knowing we have enough, and not worry. But it’s not just about enjoying the blessings we’ve been given. When we truly recognize the abundance we have in Christ, we become free. Free to give ourselves to others, free to show our true selves without fear, free to live generously.
We don’t have to cling to what we have or live as if there’s not enough to go around. We can love others fully, help others freely, because we know our God always takes care of us. He keeps us safe. He is the abundance that never runs out.
It reminds me of the Israelites in the wilderness.
The Call Into The Wilderness
The Israelites came out of generations of slavery in Egypt, where chaos and fear were the norm. They didn’t know what safety was; there was no “lying in a food bowl” for a slave in Egypt. Life was harsh, unpredictable, and full of pain. Yet, through miracle after miracle, the Lord brought them out. He split the Red Sea in two, led them across on dry ground, and destroyed the pursuing Egyptian army before their eyes. They had seen God’s power firsthand.
But years of fear and oppression leave deep scars, and don’t we all know it? Trust doesn’t come overnight when your entire life has been built on surviving under the whip of an oppressor. Every day of their past life had demanded as much work as their bodies could endure, and probably even more. So even though they were physically free from Pharaoh, mentally they were still in prison. They didn’t feel safe. They were scared. They were hungry. And they didn’t know where their next meal would come from. Panic set in quickly. They grumbled, they doubted, and they accused Moses and Aaron of leading them out into the wilderness just to die.
In their desperation, they even began romanticizing Egypt. “If only we had died by the Lord’s hand in Egypt!” they cried, thinking back to the plagues that struck their captors. “There we sat around pots of meat and ate all the food we wanted, but you have brought us into this desert to starve this entire assembly to death.” Their memories were twisted by fear. Did they truly have plenty in Egypt? Likely not. But when panic sets in, even slavery can feel safer than the unknown.
Isn’t that what we do sometimes? We reach for old habits, old fears, and old ways of thinking simply because they are familiar, even if they kept us chained. But God doesn’t bring us out of bondage only to abandon us. He promises provision, and He uses the wilderness to teach us to trust Him.
So God told Moses, “I will rain down bread from heaven for you” (Exodus 16:4). And just like that, manna appeared. Sweet, fresh, and unlike anything they had ever seen. Every morning, it blanketed the ground, waiting to be gathered. It could be ground into flour or beaten into dough, baked into cakes or eaten as it was. The people called it “manna,” which literally means “What is it?” because they had no other word for this heavenly bread.
But the manna came with instructions. They were to gather only what they needed for each day, no more, no less. On the sixth day, they were to gather enough for two days because the seventh day was a holy day of rest. Of course, some didn’t listen. Fear makes us hoard. When they tried to gather more than they needed, it rotted overnight. God was teaching them a vital truth: He wasn’t just their Savior; He was their Lord.
And He didn’t stop there. In response to their longing for meat, God sent quail into their camp. In fact, he sent so many quail they could catch them by hand! God was showing them that He could provide both bread and meat, both daily sustenance and unexpected abundance.
This wasn’t just a one-time miracle. The manna fell for forty years! Every single day until they entered the Promised Land. It was always enough. Not too much. Not too little. Through this, God was teaching them contentment and trust. Each night, they went to sleep with no bread stored in their tents, believing that when morning came, God’s storehouse would open again, and the bread from heaven would be waiting for them. Sweet, fresh, and exactly what they needed.
The Forward Momentum
Isn’t it fascinating how many stories in the Bible carry the same steady rhythm? Don’t look back. Don’t go back. Keep moving forward.
From the Israelites in the wilderness to the disciples leaving their nets, and even to Lot’s wife, God continually calls His people to walk away from what once held them, to stop clinging to the familiar chains of the past, and to trust Him with what’s ahead. Lot’s wife turned around and instantly became a pillar of salt, not because she glanced back with curiosity, but because her heart was still tied to what God had already called her out of. Egypt looked better in the Israelites’ memory than it ever was in reality.
And the same is true for us. How often do we long for what once was, our "Egypt", our old habits, our old ways, because they feel predictable? But God says, “No. I have something better. I will provide. I will protect. Just follow Me.” Paul understood this truth deeply when he wrote, “But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13–14).
The Israelites didn’t fully appreciate the miracle of their freedom. We can easily draw that conclusion, but should we ask ourselves the same question? Do we appreciate the miracle of our freedom? Do we really understand what God has done to set us free? Yes, He secured our eternity through the cross, but He is also working to free us now, from the mental prisons, the fears, and the chains that still haunt us. He’s not just an “insurance policy” for heaven. He wants us to truly live in freedom today, trusting that He will provide and care for us just as surely as He parted the Red Sea.
It takes time to be freed mentally from the things that enslave us, our toxic habits, addictions, unhealthy relationships, fear, and shame. Freedom can feel terrifying when you’ve spent years in slavery. The Israelites knew that feeling all too well. They wanted to run back to what was familiar, even if it hurt them. And don’t we do the same? Even after we’ve seen God work miracles in our lives, we sometimes run back to the very things that once held us captive, because at least they feel familiar.
But God doesn’t call us to move on from the past for no reason. He doesn’t want anyone or anything ruling our lives except Him. He didn’t want the Egyptians ruling the Israelites, and He doesn’t want our sin ruling us. It doesn’t matter what it is. If a toxic relationship is controlling our hearts, if addiction is chaining our souls, if we’re drowning in media that poisons our thoughts, if food, drugs, depression, or fear have us in their grip, God will always call us out.
He first freed the Israelites physically, but it took far longer to free them mentally. He went to great lengths to show them what true freedom looks like. He literally led them into the wilderness not to punish them, but to set them free, to teach them that real freedom is found in Him alone. Prisons aren’t always physical. And mental prisons, chains of shame, fear, or self-doubt, are often harder to break than iron bars. Yet God is a God of freedom. Not just freedom from Pharaoh or from slavery, but freedom from anything that dares to rule His children’s hearts.
The message is clear throughout Scripture: God doesn’t want us living in the past. He doesn’t want us ruled by fear, or stuck in shame. He wants to redefine us, to feed us, and to lead us forward, one step, one day, one manna-morning at a time.
Whether it’s a dove resting in a food bowl after a storm, or a worn-out Israelite gathering heaven’s bread in the wilderness, God’s call is the same: Trust Me. I’ve got you. You don’t need to run. You don’t need to store it all up. Just come back each day, and I’ll be there.
So what about us? What “Egypt” are we tempted to run back to, those old patterns, fears, or habits that feel safer than trusting God with the unknown? He’s calling us to let go of the past, to stop living like prisoners when He has already opened the gates. He is our Provider, our Freedom, and our Sustainer. Just as He fed the Israelites with manna each morning, He will give us what we need, grace for today, strength for this moment, hope for tomorrow.
But we have to choose to trust Him instead of hoarding fear, instead of looking back. Like Paul, we can press on, our eyes fixed on Jesus, confident that the One who parts seas and breaks chains will lead us into the life of freedom He’s promised. It’s time to step forward, to trust, and to live as if we’re truly free.
Because we are.
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