When my friend and her husband struggled to conceive, doctors recommended she have a medical procedure done. But my friend was hesitant. “Shouldn’t prayer be enough to fix our problem?” she said. “Do I really need to do the procedure?” My friend was trying to work out what role human action has in seeing God work.

The story of Jesus feeding the crowd can help us here (Mark 6:35–44). We may know how the story ends—thousands of people are miraculously fed with just a little bread and some fish (v. 42). But notice, who is to feed the crowd? The disciples (v. 37). And who provides the food? They do (v. 38). Who distributes the food, and cleans up afterwards? The disciples (vv. 39–43). “You give them something to eat,” Jesus said (v. 37). Jesus did the miracle, but it happened as the disciples’ acted.

A good crop is a gift from God (Psalm 65:9–10), but a farmer must still work the land. Jesus promised Peter “a catch” of fish but the fisherman still had to cast his nets (Luke 5:4–6). God can tend the earth and do miracles without us but typically chooses to work in a divine-human partnership.

My friend went through with the procedure and later successfully conceived. While this is no formula for a miracle, it was a lesson to my friend and me. God often does His miraculous work through the methods He’s placed in our hands.

More than two hundred million people from a variety of faiths undertake a pilgrimage each year. For many throughout the ages, a pilgrim’s task has been to journey to a sacred place to receive some kind of blessing. It’s been all about reaching the temple, cathedral, shrine, or other destination where a blessing can be received.

Britain’s Celtic Christians, however, saw pilgrimage differently. They set out directionless into the wild or let their boats drift wherever the oceans took them—pilgrimage for them being about trusting God in unfamiliar territory. Any blessing was found not at the destination but along the journey.

Hebrews 11 was an important passage for the Celts. Since the Christian life is about leaving the world’s ways behind and trekking like foreigners to the city of God (vv. 13–16), a pilgrimage echoed their life’s journey. By trusting God to provide along their difficult, untrodden path, the pilgrim grew the kind of faith lived by the heroes of old (vv. 1–12).

What a lesson to learn, whether we physically trek or not: for those who have trusted Jesus , life is a pilgrimage to God’s heavenly country, full of dark forests, dead ends, and trials. As we journey through, may we not miss the blessing of experiencing God’s provision along the way.

In his parable The Wise Woman, George MacDonald tells the story of two girls, whose selfishness brings misery to all, including themselves, until a Wise Woman puts them through a series of tests to help them become “lovely” again.

After the girls fail each test and suffer shame and isolation, one of them, Rosamond, finally realizes she can’t change herself. “Couldn’t you help me?” she asks the Wise Woman. “Perhaps I could,” the woman replied, “now that you ask me.” And with the divine help symbolized by the Wise Woman, Rosamond begins to change. She then asks if the woman would forgive all the trouble she’s caused. “If I had not forgiven you,” the woman says, “I would never have taken the trouble to punish you.”

There are times when God disciplines us. It’s important to understand why. His correction isn’t driven by retribution but by a fatherly concern for our welfare (Hebrews 12:6). He also desires that we may “share in his holiness,” enjoying a harvest of “righteousness and peace” (vv. 10–11). Selfishness brings misery, but holiness makes us whole, joyful, and “lovely” like Him.

            Rosamond asks the Wise Woman how she can love a selfish girl like her. Stooping to kiss her, the woman replies, “I saw what you were going to be.” God’s correction too comes with love and a desire to make us who we’re meant to be.

Leaving home one morning, Dean found some friends waiting with balloons. His friend Josh stepped forward. “We entered your poems in a competition,” he said, before handing Dean an envelope. Inside was a card that read ‘First Prize,’ and soon everyone was crying tears of joy. Dean’s friends had done a beautiful thing, confirming his writing talent.

Weeping for joy is a paradoxical experience. Tears are normally a response to pain, not joy; and joy is normally expressed with laughter, not tears. Italian psychologists have noted that tears of joy come at times of deep personal meaning—like when we feel deeply loved or achieve a major goal. This led them to conclude that tears of joy are pointers to the meaning of our lives.

I imagine tears of joy erupting everywhere Jesus went. How could the parents of the man born blind not weep for joy when Jesus healed him (John 9:1-9), or Mary and Martha after He raised their brother from death (11:38-43)? When God’s people are brought into a restored world, “Tears of joy will stream down their faces,” God says, “and I will lead them home with great care” (Jeremiah 31:9 nlt).

If tears of joy show us the meaning of our lives, imagine that great day to come. As tears stream down our faces, we’ll know without doubt that the meaning of life has always been to live intimately with Him.