The Blindsided-ness of Faith
There’s something both terrifying and beautiful about following God: you often can’t see what’s ahead.
Faith has a way of leading you into rooms you never planned to enter, conversations you didn’t script, and seasons you didn’t prepare for. One moment, life feels like a straight road with clear signs. The next, you’re walking with no map, only a voice saying, “This is the way, walk in it.”
The truth is, faith blindsides us because it refuses to work on our terms. It dismantles our neat timelines and calculated plans. It teaches us dependence in ways nothing else can.
Think of Abraham on Mount Moriah, lifting the knife in obedience, when suddenly a ram appeared caught in the thicket. It’s easy to say God made the ram appear in that moment— but what if we pause to see the deeper wonder? That ram might have wandered off days before, climbing the same mountain Abraham was sent to. Step by step, unnoticed, it moved into position, waiting for the exact moment when faith and provision would meet.
That’s the nature of God’s hand: He doesn’t always impose His reality upon us with spectacle but manifests Himself through the fabric of our everyday experiences. What we call coincidences are often divine harmonies; things like the right person at the right time, the open door just when you’re ready, the “chance” conversation that changes everything. Sometimes it’s the missed flight that spares you from harm. Other times it’s the job delay that positions you for something greater. Or even the quiet moment when a friend accepts a long-forgotten social media request and it becomes the start of the relationship you didn’t know you needed.
I’ve learned that the blindsided-ness is not God being cruel or distant, but God being Father. Because if I could see every turn, I wouldn’t need to trust Him. If I could calculate every outcome, I would only rely on myself.
Sometimes God calls you to move without the full picture. To step into a role, a city, a project, a conversation and you don’t yet know why. The faith walk is often less about clarity and more about confidence in Who is leading.
And here’s the paradox: what blindsides you in the moment often becomes the very proof of His faithfulness later. You look back and realize, “Oh… that’s why He led me this way. That’s what He was protecting me from. That’s the blessing I couldn’t see yet.”
Faith blindsides us, but it never abandons us. It’s the holy invitation to trust that even when you can’t see ahead, you are fully seen, fully known, fully guided.
