Category Archives: identity

landmark: when the finally-suddenly is just ahead

Posted on by January 7, 2026

“Right there, that one.” Still going highway speed, the road to Grandma’s house rapidly approached on the passenger side.

Vin hit the brakes to slow down in time, and flicked the blinker. “I was looking for the sign…it’s not there anymore,” he said, making the turn.

I never look for the street sign, so I didn’t even notice it was missing. Grinning, I pointed through the cracked windshield at the Butte looming in front of us.

“It’s right there. There’s your sign.”

landmark: when the finally-suddenly is just ahead

I don’t mean to brag. The man drives us everywhere and keeps a map in his head, while I almost took out an ornamental tree the last time I made a u-turn in the library parking lot.

But this road, I know. I’ve driven it so many times I could do it with my eyes shut…figuratively, of course.

I’ve been driving it more and more, too. The plan, for now, is to take it weekly because time is flying and Grandma is 94 and things that weren’t a concern a year ago are now quite different. A year adds miles to all of us.

Meanwhile, I’ve worked my way through Numbers but got hung up in chapter 33 because it is the end of the year and that chapter seems parallel to life right now. Because ready or not, change is here, and so many other markers we thought we’d never get to.

Promises fulfilled. Breakthroughs achieved. Milestones that were always in the distance, so far off we never really thought we’d see them up close – but here they are, rapidly looming larger and larger as the safe space between us shortens.

It’s finally, suddenly. And there are no brakes for slowing this down.

So let me tell you about Numbers 33, which summarizes the Israelites’ journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. They had been slaves, and went from bondage and captivity to freedom and fulfillment. You probably know this story almost as well as you know your own, so you know it wasn’t an easy-peasy, quick trip.

Just because you’re no longer a slave doesn’t mean you suddenly know how to live in freedom.

So the Israelites, like us, had a journey to make. And Numbers 33 gives us the landmarks:

They set out from Rameses in the first month, on the fifteenth day of the first month; on the day after the Passover the Israelites went out boldly in the sight of all the Egyptians…

– Numbers 33:3

During this journey, the Israelites wrestled with the same questions we do when we’re being honest: Is obedience worth it? Can we trust God? Are we who He really says we are, and can we really do what He tells us to?

Are we willing to go where He sends us?

Some of us have been promised something before, and it didn’t turn out the way we thought it would. It took too long, or maybe we confused the middle for the end. Maybe it was super messy, and came with trial or trauma. We feel like the promise burned us and we stopped trusting.

So now when we see a new landmark of promise and fulfillment looming ahead, we hit the brakes.

Dig in our heels.

Backpedal.

We do all the metaphors because we’ve (mis)learned that promises can also feel very much like threats.

You know the story of the twelve spies; this is exactly what ten of them did. The enemy wants us to see the worst case scenario and assume that all is lost.

We should, of course, be looking at Jesus, but problems (current or potential ones) are loud and flashy and demanding. They get in our face and try to become idols, because if they can command more of our attention than we give to Jesus…well, that’s what we’re worshiping, don’t you know.

But when we know the land, know the hand of God, and understand Romans 8:28 (and the rest of scripture), we know better: All is not lost. All is gain. There is nothing the enemy can do that, when surrendered to the Lord, cannot result in our gain.

When we understand that, it’s easier to stand our ground instead of shrinking back and looking for excuses to avoid what we’re called to do.

So, friend…in this season, what are you called to do?

We have to be free from fear. If we’re afraid of the landmark looming in the distance, we won’t confront it; we’ll be ruled by it, instead. But our wild exploits are rooted in our fearless movement forward.

Teach me your way, O Lord, and lead me on a level path because of my enemies.

Do not give me up to the will of my adversaries, for false witnesses have risen against me, and they are breathing out violence.

I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.

– Psalm 27:11-13

Still though, so many things we thought were down the road are now right in front of us. We’re almost-finally-suddenly there, and so is the temptation to stall our engines or shrink back.

How many times have we sensed the “suddenly” coming, and we sabotaged it out of fear? Are we allowing God to be as big as He is – and trusting Him for all that He says – or are we making Him small and safe, in the terrain of our own choosing?

Maybe it will help to look back, and see how far we’ve come.

They set out from Pi-hahiroth, passed through the sea into the wilderness…

Look at what you’ve done: You faced the event you’d been dreading. You rose above fear and found a mantle of authority on the high ground. You confronted dishonor, you let go of betrayal, you forgave the one who repented, and you continued to love, even in new ways, the one who still doesn’t know how.

They set out from Marah and came to Elim…

You read this book and then that one, and you stumbled into a curriculum that was clearly the Lord’s design because it was not of your choosing. You learned so many lessons you never planned for, and you grew in deeper humility along with them.

They set out from Elim and camped by the Red Sea. They set out from the Red Sea and camped in the wilderness of Sin…

You had that hard conversation and made that brave confession, you learned that you could articulate those thoughts and feelings you’ve held onto for years, because you finally had a receptive audience. And you learned that the Lord is always receptive, too.

They set out from the wilderness of Sin and camped at Dophkah. They set out from Dophkah and camped at Alush.

You saved and invested, put the work in, milestone after milestone. Some of the markers are invisible to everyone but you – but you know how you carved out time to make way for a service that that no one else would see.

They set out from Alush and camped at Rephidim, where there was no water for the people to drink.

When you didn’t see the answer or the provision, you waited and it came. No, it didn’t look at all like you thought it would, but it came.

They set out from Rephidim and camped in the wilderness of Sinai.

You learned about balancing graciousness with firmness, and discerned between overlooking mistakes and confronting sin. Wisdom has taught you more about which concerns should be shared and which should stay private and prayed about. And you’ve gotten better at magnifying righteousness, instead of venting frustrations and giving the enemy the satisfaction of having volume added to his harassment.

Look at how you’ve grown, how far you’ve come. Look at what He’s done.

He reached down from on high; he took me;
he drew me out of mighty waters.
He delivered me from my strong enemy
and from those who hated me,
for they were too mighty for me.
They confronted me in the day of my calamity,
but the Lord was my support.
He brought me out into a broad place;
he delivered me because he delighted in me.

– Psalm 18:16-19

Can you believe it? Look back and see all the landmarks you’ve made it through, all the posts you held, all the places you stopped to build an altar and worship. A little wonder and amazement is called for.

He has been training us to take the land, drive out idolatry, expand the Kingdom, root out lies and deception, heal trauma, free the captives, and prepare the way of the Lord. We’ve learned that we have to start with the land in our own hearts first, because if we are still living as captives, we cannot free anyone else.

Toward the end of Numbers 33, there’s this little phrase in verse 54: “according to your ancestral tribes you shall inherit.” They, of course, were talking about boundaries of the land of each tribe, but there’s truth here for us, too.

According to your family culture (the way you hold your charge, the way you bear your calling, what you invest in, focus on, attend to, and cultivate)…you will inherit.

Our lives – and what our children will inherit from us – are wrapped up in these promises and how we follow Him into them.

We want each one of you to show the same diligence so as to realize the full assurance of hope to the very end, so that you may not become sluggish but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.

– Hebrews 6:11-12

His goodness is the lay of the land – and you don’t need a sign if you’re familiar with the territory. You just need to know the landmarks.

He has been, and will continue to be, before and behind us.

He is leading, but He is also coming.

And He’s teaching us to prepare the way for it.

what we are charged to carry

Posted on by November 20, 2025

I talked about Exodus a while back and I’m currently in Numbers, so if you’re paying attention, that means I blew through Leviticus with nary a reference to it, and you’re welcome.

But I have a confession to make.

I actually like Numbers.

what we are charged to carry: how quiet perseverance makes room for exploits | Shannon Guerra @ Copperlight Wood

Is that shocking? It gets such a bad rap, but I think that’s because by the time we’ve endured all the details of the Tabernacle and the Levitical laws, we find ourselves in Numbers amid tribes and names and duties and we are just like, When will this ever end, and Pleeeease not another census, and also, what the heck, they’re not even talking about yarn anymore.

But Numbers is where the battles start. It’s where the spies scope out the Promised Land. There’s deception and cursing and blessing. Rebellion, revolts, and wars. So. Much. Drama.

Before we get to all that, though, we delve into tribes and their responsibilities, and yes, it’s boring. But we are grown ups and the Lord uses our postured attention to speak to us even when we couldn’t care less about the Kohathites.

On the blue couch with the Bible and coffee, my eyes go over the verses and sometimes the Lord tells me something that has nothing to do with the chapter at all, but about the day ahead or a situation I’ve been praying about. And this easy; it actually asks less of me than really studying, unraveling Greek or Hebrew, or wondering what a passage says in a different version. Because in these times, He gives answers, not more questions.

Also, this boring stuff sets the stage for the exploits later. I’m no Old Testament scholar, but it was a massive feat to organize this group of millions in their community functions, and it was not glamorous work. I need to see this boring stuff because my own life is riddled with the expensive, complicated mundane, and I need perspective.

What I mean is, it’s easy to be passionate and excited about Big Endeavors. There’s a mission or a battle ahead? Great! Let’s train, prepare, equip, invest, do all the things! Yes, it’s hard, but this is an adventure! It’s ambitious! Gutsy! We’re doing it for a cause!

It’s one thing to raise a bunch of money because you’re adopting or going back to school or launching a business venture or becoming a missionary or doing some other wild exploit. It’s another thing entirely to need roughly the same amount of funds to crown a broken tooth, cover eye appointments and glasses for three people, and replace your home’s heating system which has already been repaired numerous times.

These are not the escapades that inspire us. This the boring maintenance that keeps body and soul – er, house – together. And we need answers here too, not more questions.

So everything we read doesn’t have to be wars and drama and taking the land, just as everything we do at home isn’t always birthday parties and pizza nights. We need routine maintenance, like laundry and making beds. We need the calm to train our attention spans with books and tasks that are less flashy. So these parts in the Old Testament will grow us, if we let them.

My old NRSV talks about ancestral houses and the different services performed by clans, and it is of course not referring to physical houses, but generational giftings and callings. Or, deeper, it’s about the atmosphere and assignments of our families – including our church families.

This stuff seems dry when we read it, but we all have a particular culture within our homes and tribes we run with. Your ancestral house might excel in music and theatrical creativity; maybe everyone knows the hymnal from front to back. Some groups are quiet and reverent, others are loud and hilarious. Some of us have powerful deliverance ministries or community outreaches, but we still aren’t sure how to use the word “liturgy” in a sentence.

In chapter 4, this verse stopped me:

This is what they are charged to carry, as the whole of their service…

– Numbers 4:31a

You and I, individually, are charged to carry particular things as our whole act of service, too. They are specific things, not everything; we are charged to carry whatever the Lord has called us to. Not what He’s called our neighbor or pastor or best friend to.

Still in Numbers 4, in verse 47 it talks about “…everyone qualified to do the work of service and the work of bearing burdens,” and it’s referring to the tent of meeting. But as I’m reading it, the Lord is talking to me about my work and service, and how not wanting to and not being qualified are different things. Because here, too, is the discipline and obedience that bear fruit.

This is where the battles in our hearts start – and if we follow through, it’s where they’re won.

I don’t always want to do the work of thinking hard, or counseling and discipling, or helping my 20-year-old daughter in the bathroom. But those are things I am charged to carry.

On the daily, I tend to feel scattered and spread thin: kids, family, ministry, business, writing, Gaining Ground, Homesteaderly, homeschooling, personal study. What am I focused on? Aren’t we supposed to have a niche? Everyone says so. At least, all the self-promoting experts on the internet do.

But as I’ve been in Numbers, I’ve also been in Proverbs 31 for weeks, rereading, letting it sink into me. I never seem to get enough time in it, so this time around I decided to linger. And as I’ve gone over it again and again (not the whole chapter, just the last 20ish verses), I’ve realized that this woman didn’t fit into tidy, clean boxes, either. She, too, was all over the place: family, business, community, creativity, caring for her household and also for herself.

Huh. The world tells us to focus and “niche down,” but that is not how life works for many of us. Most of us are not charged to carry just one or two simple priorities. When we seek the Kingdom first, our passions run deep and wide. We scatter seeds everywhere.

In the wide broadcast, it seems like it’s taking forever to see fruit come of it.

Look at the plant, Love, He says.

About a year ago I repotted and hung this pothos; it had only two stems and about four leaves. Now it has fourteen.

All I’ve done is water it, and wait.

And this is where we see exponential growth: small steps of obedience, plus time and patience.

Steadiness and grit. Backbone and perseverance. Constancy and equanimity. On their own, they’re just stubbornness. But leveraged in obedience toward our callings, they multiply into something beyond our expectations.

I didn’t have a grid for that, we think.

And He says, That’s why I’m giving you one.

Our small acts are laying down lines, creating a platform that our future exploits are built on.

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the gift is free…but it’ll cost you everything

Posted on by November 11, 2025

That’s the sentence one of our pastors said a couple weeks ago. We were gathered in the living room like normal, almost but not quite stuffed to the gills…and by that, I guess I mean two things: First, the room was full but not overly crowded, and second, it was Italian night but somehow 2/3 of the potluck was dessert.

the gift is free...but it'll cost you everything | Shannon Guerra @ Copperlight Wood

Finnegan was sitting in Vin’s lap, and Kav and I were on the floor, coloring. The discussion was about how Jesus invited people to the Kingdom – His approach was not the bad-news-called-good-news gaslighting that is sometimes misdelivered. Nor was it the flimsy appeal we hear so often that feels like a discounted ticket to an event you have no interest in, or junk mail promises from political candidates asking you to vote for them…but I repeat myself.

Anyway, when our pastor said, “The gift is free…but it’ll cost you everything,” Finnegan spoke up, which he’s hardly ever done before.

“What sense does that make?!”

Great question, right? We all thought so. How can a gift be free if it costs you anything, much less everything?

Discussion went back and forth. Adult-y concepts were tossed around, like debts, and payments, and real estate deeds, and ownership. This stuff makes sense to us, but they’re not on the grid of most ten-year-olds.

Finally I asked Finn, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” he said.

“Alright. You have a blue dot, and it represents your whole life. The whole thing – every day, everything you have, your whole being, is this blue dot. It fits right here,” – I held out my hands – “and has a beginning and end. That’s your life.”

“Okay…”

“But Jesus offers us a line that has no end. It’s infinite, goes on forever. He created it and paid everything for it, and you can have it for free – but you have to give Him your blue dot, because you can’t have both. It can only be one or the other.”

“Huh.” Wheels were turning. We’ve been going over this scripture for weeks, months.

You were dead [past tense] through the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the ruler of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work [present tense] among those who are disobedient.

All of us once lived among them in the passions of our flesh, doing the will of flesh and senses, and we were by nature children of wrath, like everyone else,

but God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ

—by grace you have been saved—

and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus,

so that in the ages to come he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.

— Ephesians 2:1-7

“So the whole, unending line is free…but it’ll cost you everything. The whole blue dot. This, “ – I held out my hands again, a foot apart – “for this.” Hands flung wide.

“It doesn’t even seem fair,” he laughed, and the rest of us agreed. It’s not fair; it really is the most lopsided deal in the world.

And he gave his dot to Jesus, right there, in front of everyone.

Indeed, just as the Father raises the dead and gives them life, so also the Son gives life to whomever he wishes.

The Father judges no one but has given all judgment to the Son, so that all may honor the Son just as they honor the Father. Anyone who does not honor the Son does not honor the Father who sent him.

Very truly, I tell you, anyone who hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and does not come under judgment but has passed from death to life.

Very truly, I tell you, the hour is coming and is now here when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live.

— John 5:21-25

Anyone who hears and believes exchanges death for life, their dot for the line.

After Finn prayed, our friend Chris said, “I see this picture of Jesus taking all of our dots to a wall. On the wall is a picture that’s being made of dots in all their different colors, and when someone gives their dot to God, through salvation, God adds it to the picture. Every dot missing represents someone who is still separate from Him.”

We begin inside the dot, stretching and pushing against its sides, unable to do anything but strive against its ungiving, deceptive boundaries. We choose between being the master of our dot or the steward of the line, but we can’t have both.

Jesus doesn’t give up ownership; we do. He is still the master of the line, but in exchanging our puny domain for His, our world expands deep and wide.

God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through him.

Those who believe in him are not condemned, but those who do not believe are condemned already because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God.

And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil.

For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed.

But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.

— John 3:17-21

That night while putting the boys to bed, we talked for a long time: about dots and lines, mosaics and murals, the Holy Spirit and surrender.

We talked about hearing God’s voice and moving in cooperation with what He says, and the ways we explain this to six- and ten-year-olds really isn’t that different than how we explain it to adults. We invite honestly, without manipulation or apology or junk mail promises, because Jesus doesn’t need gimmicks to justify the offer.

Kids understand as well as we do – maybe better – that it is the best deal in the world for us to trade our entire ownership of this temporary, decaying mess for the free, eternal, light-filled expansion.

“What color is your dot, Kav?” I asked our six-year-old.

He grinned. “Red.”

And before falling asleep, he prayed, and traded his dot for the line, too.

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