Weekly Devotion: How to Trust God When Nothing is Changing

By: Shara Garcia

How do we trust God when nothing is changing?

Psalm 126 is one of those passages that puts words to what waiting feels like. It’s a song written by people who had seen God move in the past, but were still holding out hope that He’d do it again.

The Israelites had lived through loss and exile. They knew what it was like to have everything stripped away. But this psalm opens with a memory of when God came through: “When the Lord brought back his exiles to Jerusalem, it was like a dream!” 

It was the kind of moment you can hardly believe—when hope becomes real again and it doesn’t feel so heavy to breathe. But right after that, the psalm shifts from remembering to praying:  “Restore our fortunes, Lord, as streams renew the desert.”

And here’s where it gets really vivid. The desert they’re talking about is the Negev—a dry, barren wilderness that stays cracked and lifeless most of the year. But when rain finally comes, it pours. Floods rush through those dry streambeds, and things start to bloom again—fast.

That’s the picture of restoration the writer is asking God for. Not a slow fix. Not a slight improvement. But something sudden and full of life. Something only God could do.

So what does it look like to trust God when you’re in that dry, in-between space—when you’re still waiting, still hurting, and nothing seems to be changing?

We keep planting. Even with tears in our eyes.

Psalm 126:5-6 says, “Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy.They weep as they go to plant their seed, but they sing as they return with the harvest.”

This isn’t just poetic language—it’s a picture of faithfulness. Of showing up and doing the next thing, even when your heart feels shattered. It’s a reminder that with God, even our tears have purpose. They’re not overlooked. They’re not wasted. They’re seeds.

So if you’re facing a diagnosis, walking through a NICU stay, holding grief that feels like it will never lift—know this: your tears matter. Your prayers matter. Every quiet act of faithfulness, every moment you choose love over despair, every day you get up and keep going—it all matters.

God is still the God who restores.

And joy? It’s still coming.

I hope this reminder gives you strength to keep going—that even in the driest seasons, God is still faithful, still present, and still writing a story that leads to joy.

God, it’s hard to keep trusting when everything feels dry. When I’m in the middle of sorrow or uncertainty, it’s easy to believe You’ve gone quiet. But I know You see me. Thank You for collecting every tear, for working even when I can’t see it. Help me remember what You’ve done before and believe that You can do it again. I trust You with the seeds I’m planting—even through tears. Flood the desert, Lord. Let joy come again. Amen.

Dig Deeper into How to Navigate What is Ahead with Real Hope

Reflection Questions:

1. How has remembering God’s past faithfulness helped you hold on in hard seasons?

2. What’s one small sign of growth or grace you’ve seen in your current journey?

Put Your Faith Into Action:

Pause and look back. Take time to remember one specific way God has met you in the past—and mark it. Write it down, share it with someone, or do something to celebrate it. When we remember His faithfulness, it strengthens our trust for the road ahead.

Some Ideas to Help You Remember and Celebrate:

• Plant something small—a flower, a seed, or even a houseplant—as a symbol of hope that life still grows, even from broken places.

• Read Psalm 126 aloud, and make it personal by turning it into a prayer.

• Choose a worship song that reminds you of God’s nearness like “Battle Belongs” or “Hymn of Heaven” by Phil Wickham..

Further Reading:

• Psalm 77:11–12

• Isaiah 43:18–19 

• Joshua 4:1–8

Verse to meditate on and memorize:

Psalm 126: 5 “Those who plant in tears will harvest with shouts of joy.”

Shara is a SoCal mother to three littles, pastor’s wife, youth pastor, and heart warrior mama. She understands the importance of biblical encouragement; especially when her third child was born with a complex CHD requiring open heart surgery. She volunteers in obedience to God's call to comfort others "with the comfort we ourselves received from God."