When God Cares About the Floating Axe Head

There are so may times in my when it feels like every prayer is about survival.

You aren't asking for extraordinary things.

You're asking for enough strength to get through another day.

Enough money to pay the bills.

Enough peace to quiet your racing thoughts.

Enough hope to believe tomorrow might feel different than today.

I've been there.

When I was fighting through Breast Implant Illness, I prayed for healing. But if I'm honest, I also prayed for little things that felt almost too insignificant to bring to God.

Help me get through today.

Help me make one more decision.

Help me stop being afraid.

Help me believe You still see me.

Sometimes I wondered if those prayers were too small.

Then I read through 2 Kings 2-6.

There are incredible miracles in these chapters.

Poisoned water becomes pure.

A widow's tiny jar of oil keeps pouring until every debt is paid.

A child is raised back to life.

Bread is multiplied so everyone can eat.

And then there is an axe head.

Someone loses a borrowed axe while working.

It sinks to the bottom of the river. It seems like such a small problem compared to everything else happening in the world.

Yet God performs a miracle.

An iron axe head floats.

Every time I read that story, I pause.

Because I think we all have "floating axe head" moments.

The marriage that feels distant.

The child who no longer wants anything to do with faith.

The diagnosis that changed everything.

The business you're trying so hard to keep afloat.

The loneliness you can't quite explain.

The grief that still catches you by surprise months, or even years, later.

Maybe no one else notices those struggles. Maybe they seem too ordinary compared to someone else's crisis.

But they matter to God.

That simple miracle reminds me that God isn't only present in life's biggest moments.

He's present in the ordinary Tuesday mornings, the quiet tears no one sees, the anxious drive to work, the unanswered text, the financial pressure, the hidden disappointment.

He cares.

When I look back at my own healing journey, I realize the greatest miracle wasn't only that my body recovered.

The greatest miracle was that I came to know Jesus.

Those long mornings in bed with my scriptures became sacred. I wasn't just waiting to feel better. I was learning who He really was.

A Savior who stays.

A Savior who listens.

A Savior who doesn't rush past our pain because it looks small to everyone else.

That relationship changed me more than I ever expected.

Sometimes we ask God to remove the trial, and sometimes He lovingly does.

Other times, He quietly walks beside us until we realize He has become the miracle we needed most.

I don't know what you're carrying today.

Maybe you're praying for something that feels impossible. Or maybe you're almost embarrassed to pray because your burden seems too small.

Can I remind you of something?

If God cared enough to make an iron axe head float, He certainly cares about you.

Nothing you carry is too ordinary for Him.

Nothing is too broken.

Nothing is too lost.

Nothing is beyond His reach.

Perhaps the miracle you're waiting for will come in the way you've been praying.

Or perhaps the miracle will be discovering that, through it all, you've come to know the Miracle Worker more intimately than ever before.

And maybe that is the miracle that changes everything.