“Is This Still God?” When Obedience Feels Too Heavy

We’re trolling back to weigh-ins with a single fish in the well.

The trolling motor. The one thing keeping us barely moving is the only thing left working, barely. The engine? Done. The boat? Limping home. My car's engine light started blinking last week, too.

And we still don’t have that title in our hands.

We’re not mad.
We’re not yelling.
We’re just… quiet.

Because sometimes, the heartbreak is too confusing to cry over. Sometimes, the pressure sits so heavy on your chest that you don’t even have the strength to pray it off. And sometimes, the silence between you and the person who knows you best says more than any words ever could.

This isn’t just a broken engine or a long day.
This is a moment where faith and fear crash right into each other.
This is us asking ourselves, maybe for the first time:

“Do we even want this?”
“Is this what God really wants for us?”
“If it is… why is it this hard?”

And then the worst question of all creeps in, quietly but sharply:

“What if we’re wrong?”

What if we’re clinging to a dream that isn’t from Him?
What if we’ve misheard everything?
What if we sign the papers, move in with our goats and dreams, and it all falls apart?

But then there’s the other side of that question:

“What if we don’t?”
What if we walk away and miss everything He had planned?
What if this five-acre promise was the one place He was about to show us His faithfulness in a way we’d never seen before?

The truth is, we’re tired.

Tired of white-knuckling the timeline.
Tired of getting our hopes up just to have another thing break.
Tired of waiting for the title.
Tired of watching money disappear while bills stay the same.

This isn’t just about land anymore. It’s about trusting God when we can’t see the provision, the plan, or even the next step.

It’s about letting go of our version of how this story should go and asking:

“God… are You still in this?”

And deep down, I know He is.

Because He’s the one who opened this door in the first place.
He’s the one who made the seller choose us—even when she had higher offers.
He’s the one who made the bank say yes.
He’s the one who gave us a vision before we had the means.

And He’s the one who’s carried us this far.

This boat might be limping home, but it’s still moving.
That car might have a blinking light, but it’s still running.
Our hands might be tired, but they’re still lifted in prayer.
Our faith might be weary, but it’s still alive.

And that’s something.

So, what now?

We troll back.
We show up at weigh-ins with what we’ve got.
We trust that if He started this, He will sustain it.
And we let today’s “what ifs” become tomorrow’s testimony.

Because sometimes the proof of God’s will isn’t ease, it’s endurance.

“Let us not grow weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest—if we do not give up.”
—Galatians 6:9

We’re not giving up.
Even when the boat breaks.
Even when the money's tight.
Even when the timeline stretches farther than we wanted.
Even when the silence feels louder than faith.

We’re still believing.

Even if we’re just trolling our way there.

—Maria