Everything you describe about the Job experience is absolutely true. Like you I've travelled many valleys. It's was during the last few years that I came to realize what The Lord had been doing to me.
Unmistakable transformation had happened. It wasn't explainable, it was supernatural!
Absolutely loved this article and how Wiggles was actually part of it, or inspired it.
As I read your reflection this morning—the quiet house, Wiggles watching the neighborhood from her familiar post, the shift you described in how you now see the story of Job—I felt the nudge to share something I haven’t mentioned to you yet. This seems like the right place for it.
When someone truly steps onto the kind of path you’re describing—placing themselves in the Father’s hands and allowing Him to lead them through whatever comes—something begins to change in ways that are difficult to explain until you live it yourself.
You start to notice how deliberate He is.
Nothing begins to feel random anymore. Over time you begin to recognize the meticulous care He works into the details of your life. The lessons rarely arrive loudly. Most of them come quietly—through small corrections, gentle nudges, and moments throughout your day that only later reveal themselves as His guidance.
It is not harsh instruction.
It is tender.
The closest picture I’ve ever found is the devotion of a mother toward her young child. Her attention is constant, but never careless. Every correction, every bit of guidance, is directed toward one goal: helping that child grow strong enough to eventually stand on their own.
The Father works with that same kind of patient love.
And as the years pass in that kind of walk, something inside you begins to change. A quiet bond forms. Your heart begins to grow in affection—not simply for a sovereign King, but for a Father who is personally involved in shaping you.
Obedience slowly changes with it.
At first it may feel like the discipline of a soldier carrying out instructions. But over time it becomes something else entirely. You begin to follow His direction not out of duty, but out of love.
Eventually you reach a point where something inside you shifts so deeply that you notice it almost by surprise. You can no longer move comfortably toward your own desires the way you once did. Your steps begin to turn naturally toward His words instead.
There are moments along this road that are painful.
When you realize you misunderstood something He was showing you, or you missed something He asked of you—even unintentionally—the sorrow can run deep. Tears come, not out of shame, but out of grief that you wanted to follow Him more closely than you did.
Yet every time you turn back toward Him in those moments, you discover something that still surprises me even now.
There is no harshness waiting.
No stern disapproval.
Only the quiet welcome of a Father whose grace receives you without accusation. Often the embrace comes without words, but it steadies the heart more deeply than anything spoken.
And over time your heart begins to recognize His ways almost instinctively. It starts guiding you because it has been trained by Him.
And sometimes—just when that relationship has begun to take root—life moves into a valley that looks frighteningly similar to the one Job walked through.
That is when another realization slowly forms.
The valley is not where the Father does most of His teaching.
Most of the teaching has already happened long before the valley arrives. It happens in the quiet years, in the small daily lessons, in the slow shaping of the heart.
The valley reveals what was built there.
It becomes the place where trust is tested against the arrows this world throws—fear, loss, confusion, accusation, suffering. The enemy fires them without restraint. And the Father knows that if His children are to walk through such a world, their trust cannot remain theoretical.
It must become something that holds even when everything visible shakes.
So the valley is not cruelty.
It is preparation.
What emerges from it is someone who is no longer easily moved by what is thrown at them. Circumstances may still wound, but they no longer determine the direction of the heart.
And once the Father has trained a heart in that way, something remarkable happens.
You realize you are no longer trying to walk the narrow path.
Everything you describe about the Job experience is absolutely true. Like you I've travelled many valleys. It's was during the last few years that I came to realize what The Lord had been doing to me.
Unmistakable transformation had happened. It wasn't explainable, it was supernatural!
Absolutely loved this article and how Wiggles was actually part of it, or inspired it.
Thanks for reading, Scott. I’m glad the message resonated with you too.
🙏🏿✝🕊
As I read your reflection this morning—the quiet house, Wiggles watching the neighborhood from her familiar post, the shift you described in how you now see the story of Job—I felt the nudge to share something I haven’t mentioned to you yet. This seems like the right place for it.
When someone truly steps onto the kind of path you’re describing—placing themselves in the Father’s hands and allowing Him to lead them through whatever comes—something begins to change in ways that are difficult to explain until you live it yourself.
You start to notice how deliberate He is.
Nothing begins to feel random anymore. Over time you begin to recognize the meticulous care He works into the details of your life. The lessons rarely arrive loudly. Most of them come quietly—through small corrections, gentle nudges, and moments throughout your day that only later reveal themselves as His guidance.
It is not harsh instruction.
It is tender.
The closest picture I’ve ever found is the devotion of a mother toward her young child. Her attention is constant, but never careless. Every correction, every bit of guidance, is directed toward one goal: helping that child grow strong enough to eventually stand on their own.
The Father works with that same kind of patient love.
And as the years pass in that kind of walk, something inside you begins to change. A quiet bond forms. Your heart begins to grow in affection—not simply for a sovereign King, but for a Father who is personally involved in shaping you.
Obedience slowly changes with it.
At first it may feel like the discipline of a soldier carrying out instructions. But over time it becomes something else entirely. You begin to follow His direction not out of duty, but out of love.
Eventually you reach a point where something inside you shifts so deeply that you notice it almost by surprise. You can no longer move comfortably toward your own desires the way you once did. Your steps begin to turn naturally toward His words instead.
There are moments along this road that are painful.
When you realize you misunderstood something He was showing you, or you missed something He asked of you—even unintentionally—the sorrow can run deep. Tears come, not out of shame, but out of grief that you wanted to follow Him more closely than you did.
Yet every time you turn back toward Him in those moments, you discover something that still surprises me even now.
There is no harshness waiting.
No stern disapproval.
Only the quiet welcome of a Father whose grace receives you without accusation. Often the embrace comes without words, but it steadies the heart more deeply than anything spoken.
And over time your heart begins to recognize His ways almost instinctively. It starts guiding you because it has been trained by Him.
And sometimes—just when that relationship has begun to take root—life moves into a valley that looks frighteningly similar to the one Job walked through.
That is when another realization slowly forms.
The valley is not where the Father does most of His teaching.
Most of the teaching has already happened long before the valley arrives. It happens in the quiet years, in the small daily lessons, in the slow shaping of the heart.
The valley reveals what was built there.
It becomes the place where trust is tested against the arrows this world throws—fear, loss, confusion, accusation, suffering. The enemy fires them without restraint. And the Father knows that if His children are to walk through such a world, their trust cannot remain theoretical.
It must become something that holds even when everything visible shakes.
So the valley is not cruelty.
It is preparation.
What emerges from it is someone who is no longer easily moved by what is thrown at them. Circumstances may still wound, but they no longer determine the direction of the heart.
And once the Father has trained a heart in that way, something remarkable happens.
You realize you are no longer trying to walk the narrow path.
You simply cannot depart from it.
Sometimes I wish I didn't have like buttons, but truth buttons. Thank you.
Simple, but yet your comment, brought me my first smile and chuckle for the day. lol. Thank you, David. 🙏🏿✝🕊