That the man of God may be perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works

— 2 Timothy 3:17 (KJV)

Long time, everyone. It’s been a busy month and holiday season—which still isn’t a great excuse for letting this blog collect dust.

Recently, my church began the year with a fast. It’s something we’ve done for at least ten years now, yet somehow, God always teaches me something new.

This year, one of the verses we were assigned to study was 2 Timothy 3:17. The word furnished stood out to me, and God gently asked, in His still, soft way:

“Why has your furniture collected dust? Why are you keeping furniture you settled for? Why are you so comfortable?”

Those questions made me pause and really examine my priorities as I thought about my goals for the new year. Because here’s the thing about goals—without priority, without proper equipment (mentally and physically), they’re really just wishes.

Anyone who owns property or has rented an apartment knows the appeal of a furnished place. It saves time and money. But often, the furniture left behind is less than ideal. Still, we tolerate it because it’s cheaper, easier, and more convenient than starting from scratch.

What if I told you there was a furniture maker—a carpenter—who could make every piece specifically for you?

Naturally, we’d ask, What’s the catch?

Here it is: you have to start with nothing.

Not nothing in the sense of selling everything you own, but nothing in the sense of empty hands and open trust. No carefully curated ideas. No Pinterest boards. No aesthetics. Just trust. Not trust with conditions. Not trust with a “but.” Just trust—the kind that’s usually found in the nothing.

This doesn’t mean we stop wanting things. I want to write a book. I have this blog. And if I can write here consistently—if I can cultivate the discipline to keep showing up—then I’m practicing the perseverance it will take to write that book. Because if I let the blog get dusty, how much more would a book?

God has already given me furniture for the calling He’s placed on my life. My responsibility is to care for it—not to get comfortable in it, and not to settle for what’s worn out. I can’t keep collapsing onto the old couch of comfort when God has prepared something stronger and more beautiful for me to rest in.

Maybe it’s time to throw that couch away. Or maybe God wants to restore it into something better. Either way, we’ll never know if we don’t get up.

So dust off what needs attention. This year, instead of chasing what’s new or wishing for better, take a look at what God has already given you. Clean it. Steward it. Let Him be the interior designer of your life.

Prayer:

Lord, thank You for furnishing us for every good work. Show us where we’ve grown comfortable, where we’ve settled, and where we’ve allowed dust to gather. Give us the grace to steward what You’ve already placed in our hands, and the courage to trust You with what comes next. Amen.