Small Beginnings

“Do not despise these small beginnings, for the LORD rejoices to see the work begin.” (Zechariah 4:10, NLT)

In Zechariah 4, the prophet Zechariah wrote to exiles returning home to rebuild a temple that had been burned to the ground. Their early efforts must have felt small and unimpressive—nothing like what had been there before. And yet God rejoiced in them. He rejoiced in the small beginnings.

Sometimes the way back to a felt sense of God’s presence begins not by doing more—but by doing less.

Spiritual trauma changes our capacity for daily bread. Or what we consider daily bread. We need to experience God in breadcrumbs rather than loaves. And that’s okay. Forcing yourself into spiritual practices that trigger the trauma doesn’t form you into the image of Christ—it forms your nervous system into the image of your trauma, potentially retraumatizing you instead. God is not confined to the forms of spirituality that have hurt you. He is bigger than any system, any institution, or any approved list of spiritual disciplines.

Reimagined spirituality isn’t abandoning your faith. It’s being honest about what your soul can actually receive right now—and allowing God to meet you there.

And that can look wildly different from what you’ve been taught spirituality is supposed to look like.

It might look like drawing or coloring what you’re feeling while sitting quietly with God instead of long, drawn-out prayers. It might be taking a walk and noticing creation as a form of prayer. It might be writing an honest, unfiltered letter to God. It might be sitting in your car in a church parking lot—not going in, just being there—and letting your soul grieve. That is spiritual too.

One of my clients couldn’t connect to Jesus or God without shutting down completely. But she could imagine him as Aslan—the lion from Narnia—and that small thread of connection opened a window in her soul. Another client began practicing what I call moving prayers: letting her body move—swaying, pushing outward with her hands, curling inward—to express what words couldn’t.

Your small beginning may feel trivial. But over time, these breadcrumb moments have the potential to turn into loaves.

Moment to Reflect

• What spiritual practices have felt triggering or impossible since your trauma? What does your soul need permission to let go of, at least for now?
• What is one small, creative, or unconventional way you might try being with God this week—something that feels honest rather than forced?

Simple Prayer

God, I don’t have a lot to offer right now. But I’m here, in whatever small way I can be. Receive this. Meet me in it. And help me believe that you rejoice in the small beginning—even when it doesn’t feel like enough. Amen.