While Brad and I were living in Scotland back in February and March, one of several things I had to get used to pretty quickly was how frequently I went to the grocery store. Typically, here at home, I like to make one big trip once a week, doing my best to purchase all we’ll need for meals and housekeeping. Because the last thing I want to do at the end of a busy weekday is think about what to have for dinner. Or realize we’re out of toilet paper.

However, in Edinburgh, our Airbnb was pretty small. Don’t get me wrong; we loved it. But significant storage space—especially in the kitchen—was lacking. Our fridge was very much mini, and a pantry was just non-existent, so buying groceries for an entire week really wasn’t feasible.

Luckily, though, living in the city, there was usually a small grocery store {like a Tesco Express or Sainsbury’s Local} every block or so. And so, rather than making one big trip once a week, I found myself popping into said Tesco or Sainsbury’s almost every day to get what we needed, just for that day.

As I mentioned, it took some getting used to, but eventually, I found that this subtle shift in rhythm began to fit. For the first time in quite some time, I literally didn’t have the storage space to plan very far ahead. I learned to fit what I could carry in my small reusable grocery bag, and discovered I could let that be enough for now.

I’m learning that sometimes, “for now” is exactly what we need. While grocery shopping, yes, but also in the context of life and faith. Here’s what I mean.

As a person of faith, I tend to assume I’m expected to have this unlimited capacity to believe, to trust, to hold fast to what I know is true of God. And I assume that sort of faithfulness is supposed to be true of me always. For forever.

But I find that expectation can become a bit overwhelming. The pressure of forever doesn’t always feel doable. Yes, eternity is set in our hearts {Ecclesiastes 3:11}, but what if that’s true, and we doubt? What if it’s true, and we waver? What if we struggle and feel uncertain along the way?

Well, I wonder if maybe, being human means our capacity to trust—the “storage space” of our souls, if you will—is in fact, limited. After all, we can’t know the whole story. We can’t see the big picture. As we read in 1 Corinthians 13, right now, we only see in a mirror dimly. We are limited beings who can’t hold all the things all at once. So rather than fight against that reality, I wonder what it might look like to embrace it.

To consider that, maybe “forever” is made up of lots of little “for nows.”

Last Fall, I listened to an episode of On Being, one of my favorite podcasts hosted by Krista Tippett. She was interviewing Kate Bowler, an author, historian, and professor at Duke Divinity School. Kate was sharing with Krista about her experience after a stage four cancer diagnosis when she was just 35.

In their conversation, one insight Kate shared was how her diagnosis affected her concept of time. Basically, she didn’t know how much time she had left. And so she found herself living in three-month increments. She’d go in for a scan and get the all-clear for now. And then three months later, she was back for another scan, hoping for another all-clear. She no longer had the luxury of a five-year-plan. Not even a one-year-plan initially. She was living her life bit by bit, bird by bird {as Anne Lamott might say}, quarter by quarter, in bite-sized pieces.

Now, I’ve never been diagnosed with cancer. I don’t know personally what it’s like to experience that particular struggle, the reality of of living scan-to-scan. But even still, I deeply resonated with what Kate shared. Because so much of life can feel so unpredictable, so unsteady, so unsure. But I'm finding that breaking a life down into bite-sized “for-nows" can help make it easier to hold and ultimately draws me closer to the heart and presence of God, right here, right now.

This way of being in the world isn’t new by any means. In fact, we see it many times all throughout Scripture—the invitation to trust God for now.

I think of the story in Exodus 16, when God’s people were struggling to trust God in the wilderness, longing for long-term comfort and security. Instead, they experienced God’s provision as manna from heaven. Each morning, they’d wake up and find this bread-like substance on the ground. They were instructed to collect what they needed to eat for that particular day, and any extra they tried to store for later would rot right away. Through this practice, they were being invited to trust God, for now.

Or I think of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, and Jesus instructing his disciples not to worry about tomorrow, because today has enough worries of its own. Through this teaching, they were being invited to trust God, for now.

Or I think of the way we are taught to pray—that God would give us this day our daily bread. Through this prayer, we remember the invitation to trust God, for now.

I don’t know your particular struggle in this particular season. Maybe you’re navigating a job search, a stressful move, a scary diagnosis, a season of grief, a daunting task, or unexpected turn. Whatever current experience you find yourself in, I wonder what it might look like to trust God through the end of the summer. For the next month. For the next week. For the next day. Even for just the next 10 minutes. However small you need to break it down, I wonder what it might look like to trust God, for now.

Yes, God is forever faithful. Forever for us. Forever with us. And maybe part of remembering that is true for the long haul is remembering the little “for nows” that make up “forever.”

As Emily P. Freeman writes in her book, How to Walk Into a Room:

For now is an arrow, pointing at the place where I now stand, keeping me in this present moment. They are two words that, when added to what feels like an impossible sentence, can take away the implied assumption of forever and can shift my focus ever so slightly to this right-now moment, which is the only one I have.

My kids are struggling for now

I’m working overtime for now

I’m missing an outlet for creativity for now

We don’t have a faith community for now.

I don’t know what I’m doing for now

I feel like I don’t belong for now

For now can be a prayer, an acceptance of what is and a trust that we are not alone in it.

Today, if you’re feeling overwhelmed by your reality, remember to trust God for now. God is faithful for now. God is for us for now. God is with us for now. In this present moment. May we know and trust that is true as we continue to become the people God calls and invites us to be.