Reading · Getting Real Ministries with Dawn Pulgine

Friends,

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve sent out a regular Tuesday post. Since then, I’ve attended a writers' conference with two dear Substack friends, celebrated my husband Tony’s birthday on vacation, and spent countless hours working through the final edits of Meet Him at the Cross, which are due later this week.

In many ways, it has felt like a season filled with endings and beginnings.

As I look ahead to the rest of the summer, you’ll notice a slight shift in my writing. We’ll still dig deeply into Scripture together, but rather than teaching through a specific book of the Bible, I’d like to explore everyday life through a biblical lens. Family, friendships, aging, purpose, disappointment, joy, change, and all the ordinary places where God’s truth meets real life.

As it turns out, that’s exactly what God has been teaching me lately.

Here’s what’s been on my mind...

By Saturday afternoon, I had finally unpacked the last suitcase.

I always find that moment strangely symbolic. For weeks, the suitcase represents anticipation. It sits open on the bed while I decide what to bring and imagine what lies ahead. Then for a few days it becomes a companion of sorts, carried through airports, rolled into hotel rooms, and stuffed with souvenirs and memories.

But eventually it returns home, where it sits open on the floor waiting to be emptied.

At some point, the trip becomes a memory and ordinary life resumes.

The writers conference was over. Vacation was over. My husband, Tony’s birthday celebration was behind us. The laundry was folded, the refrigerator restocked, and life was slowly returning to normal. Yet as I sat down at my desk and opened the latest round of edits for Meet Him at the Cross, due this Friday, I found myself laughing at a familiar thought:

I think I need a vacation after the vacation.

Perhaps you’ve been there.

You spend weeks looking forward to a trip, a holiday, a graduation, a wedding, retirement, or some long-awaited milestone. You imagine arriving on the other side feeling refreshed, renewed, and ready for whatever comes next. Then suddenly it’s over. The event that occupied your attention for weeks or months has come and gone, and you’re left standing in the space between what was and whatever comes next.

The older I get, the more I realize that much of life is lived in those in-between places. One season ends, and another begins. And somewhere in the middle, we find ourselves trying to gain our footing.

Scripture is filled with people who lived through such moments, but few stand out more than Joshua. The book that bears his name opens with four words that changed everything:

“After the death of Moses...” (Joshua 1:1)

Maybe you’re familiar with this story? Moses had led Israel for forty years. He was the only leader most of the people had ever known. Under God’s direction, he confronted Pharaoh, led Israel through the Red Sea, received the Law, and shepherded an often-rebellious nation through the wilderness.

Now Moses was gone, the wilderness wandering was over, and the Promised Land lay ahead.

And Joshua stood between the two.

I suspect that is where many of us find ourselves more often than we realize. We may not be standing on the banks of the Jordan River, but we know what it feels like to leave one season behind while staring at another we do not yet fully understand.

Perhaps it is the transition from raising children to becoming grandparents. Perhaps it is retirement after decades of work. Perhaps it is the loss of a loved one, a change in ministry, a move, a health diagnosis, or simply the realization that life is not unfolding quite as we expected.

Even positive changes can leave us feeling unsettled.

That shouldn’t surprise us.

Christian counselors often note that human beings are creatures of attachment. We become attached not only to people but also to routines, identities, expectations, and familiar rhythms. Those attachments are part of God’s design. The challenge comes when God invites us into a new season, and we discover how tightly we’ve been holding on to the old one.

William Bridges, whose work on transitions has helped countless people navigate change, observed that change and transition are not the same thing. Change is external. Transition is internal. You can finish a project, sell a house, retire from a career, or return from vacation in a single day. The internal process of adjusting to a new reality often takes much longer.

Joshua understood that, too.

What I find fascinating about Joshua 1 is that God never gives Joshua what I would have wanted. He doesn’t hand him a detailed battle plan. He doesn’t explain every obstacle they will encounter. He doesn’t provide a timeline for victory.

Instead, God gives Joshua something better.

He gives him His presence.

“As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Joshua 1:5).

Notice what God is doing. Joshua wants certainty. God offers companionship.

Joshua wants details. God offers Himself.

Joshua wants to know what lies ahead. God reminds him who will go before him.

I have often noticed the same pattern in my own life. In a matter of days, I will submit the final edits for a manuscript that has occupied years of my life. The conference is behind me. Vacation is over. A chapter is quietly closing, though I cannot yet fully see what the next one holds.

Whenever I enter a new season, I want answers. I want a roadmap. I want clarity about what comes next. Yet God rarely provides as much information as I would like. Instead, He continually points me back to what I already know to be true about Him.

Theologians refer to this as God’s immutability, a word that simply means God does not change. His character, purposes, and promises do not change.

The Puritan Stephen Charnock called God’s unchangeableness the believer’s “foundation of comfort.” Every earthly season changes. Every human plan changes. Every stage of life eventually passes. But the God who called Abraham, strengthened Joshua, sustained David, and raised Christ from the dead remains exactly who He has always been.

That truth matters because transitions often expose where we have placed our confidence.

If my confidence is in a particular season, I will feel lost when that season ends. If my confidence is in a role, I will struggle when that role changes. If my confidence is in my plans, I will become anxious when those plans are interrupted.

But if my confidence is rooted in the character of God, then I can step into the unknown knowing that the One who accompanies me there has already gone before me.

Augustine famously wrote, “You have made us for Yourself, and our hearts are restless until they rest in You.”

Perhaps that restlessness becomes most apparent during times of transition. When familiar landmarks disappear, we are reminded that our ultimate security was never meant to be found in a season, a role, a ministry, or a destination. It was always meant to be found in Christ.

Long before Joshua crossed the Jordan, God already knew what awaited him on the other side. Long before we arrive at our next season, God is already there. What feels uncertain to us is not uncertain to Him.

This week, I am returning to ordinary life, and another season is not-so-quietly beginning.

And perhaps that is exactly where many of us find ourselves today.

Not where we were.

Not quite where we are going.

Standing somewhere in between.

The good news is that God’s faithfulness does not depend on the season we are in. He is just as present in the transition as He is in the destination.

Joshua discovered that on the banks of the Jordan.

We discover it every time one season ends and another begins.

Tell me, what season do you find yourself in?