Readings:
I Kings 19:9-18
Matthew 14:22-33
Romans 10:5-15
Psalm 85:8-13
Jesus, if it’s You, on the water, in the cloud
I be the first one to walk out
Cause I love Your voice
And I know the sound
Hold on
Don’t grow tired
Don’t give up
He’s better
"Wouldn't It Be Like You" by Bryan and Katie Torwalt
Devotional:
Delayed gratification is a dying phenomena. I’m sure there’s an article somewhere categorizing it among the many casualties inflicted by millennials (including malls, cereal, cable tv, and more), but perhaps with greater consequence. Planting a seed and watching it grow or waiting for a chick to hatch under an incubator remain on the decreasing list of activities that teach children to wait. Everything else is immediate. Commercials? Not with streaming options. Lines? Not with store pick-up or amusement park quick queues. Coins for a video game power-up? Nope. Just buy a bundle of gems or credits if you can’t handle waiting 6 hours. Even macaroni and cheese got an “easy” version for the microwave, and cookie dough makers finally gave in to create safe-to-eat dough products because we couldn’t wait the 8-12 minutes to bake.
Social media, little treats, and immediate responses in text or chat all feed the other side of this powerful anti-waiting engine: dopamine. Dopamine is the feel-good chemical that we associate with reward, and our brain loves a cheap reward. Likes on a post? Dopamine. Grabbed a Snickers when you weren’t yourself? Dopamine. Crush messaged you back? Dopamine. It doesn’t take much, and our brain cements the neural pathways that get us dopamine the fastest. Even at school or on the job, our brain likes the quick fix of the project or assignment that can get done in minutes over the one that will take weeks of developing effort and study.
The combined effect is detrimental to hope. If we don’t find structures that ask us to pause, and our brain increasingly seeks short-term comforts, then we find ourselves distraught at the thought of waiting in discomfort. We become weary at the thought of the effort, burned out by the continued demand, and overwhelmed at the scale. When the process takes longer than our dopamine-conditioning affords, anxiety and doubt enter, pushing us to reconsider the situation or disengage altogether.
This is a perfect description of Elijah. The land is experiencing drought and famine. Ahab and his wife Jezebel have introduced Baal-worship and threatened the priests. And Elijah, following the command of God, has confronted the 450 prophets of Baal and 400 prophets of Asherah in a great fire-burning challenge. The false prophets are unsuccessful and destroyed, and the people of Israel declare that Yahweh is God upon seeing His fire come down. When Jezebel hears what has happened, she sets out to destroy Elijah, and he begins to run for his life. Elijah is spent. He just went through the whole battle of the gods, and while Yahweh was victorious, Elijah still faces death.
So he sets off for the wilderness. Put on your nomadic hat for a moment: entering into the desert during a known famine and drought is a death wish. Elijah makes his intention overt; he outright prays to God to just end it all. “It is enough! I’m no better than my ancestors!” He is depressed and disheartened at the prospect of yet more being required of him when he has seen so little change effected. Tired from running, hungry from famine, alone in his efforts. Pretty hopeless.
This is point in the story where perhaps you’ve seen the internet meme. Elijah falls asleep, gets up and has some food, falls asleep again, gets up and has more food, and then has enough strength to go on to the mountain of God. Toddler and preschooler moms know the power of a nap and a snack on overall mood, and Elijah needed two of each, just saying.
Fortified, Elijah goes to meet with God at Mt. Sinai. And when he gets there, he decides to stay in a cave, and God asks, “What are you doing here?”, as though He doesn’t know. Elijah issues his speech, like he and God have entered performance review season, and he’s negotiating for a raise. “I’ve been doing all the work! The others broke the rules, sabotaged the effort, and destroyed our resources. It’s just me left, and now they’re coming after me.” You can almost imagine he’s been rehearsing his talking points all the way to the mountain, expecting the reward of safety or acknowledgement or maybe just some time off. God doesn’t address any of this, but instead says to go and stand before Him.
And then something unusual happens. Elijah steps out of the cave, where God is passing by. A destructive wind, an earthquake, and fire all pass through—reminiscent of when Moses, one of Elijah’s ancestors, met with God on this same mountain—but God isn’t in any of those. Terrified, Elijah goes back in the cave, and, upon hearing a gentle blowing, comes out. God asks again, “What are you doing here?” Elijah recites his speech again. And this time, God gives him instructions for what to do next, and Elijah sets off.
Now there’s no denying the healing benefits of sleep and nutrition, but what about the complaints? What about the fleeing for his life? What was the whole reason for going to the mountain in the first place? It’s like we heard the whole plight, and because God didn’t address it, it just ceased to exist. What happened to the conflict?
To answer that, we actually need to jump to our text in Matthew, where Jesus and Peter walk on the water. Jesus has just finished feeding the 5,000, and Jesus has commanded the disciples to go on ahead of him across the water. He steals away to pray and then opts to walk across the water in the middle of the night to meet the disciples. The wind is raging, and the disciples think Jesus is a ghost and cry out in fear. Jesus reassures them it's Him, then Peter asks Jesus to call him out on the water. Jesus does, and Peter starts walking, but then gets afraid and begins to sink so Jesus rescues him. When the two of them return to the boat, everyone worships.
In both of these stories, it's easy to misplace the conflict. In Elijah's story, we can imagine it's going to be about God restoring Elijah's position and reputation as a prophet or securing his safety from Jezebel. In the walking on the water, we focus on the wind (don't feel bad, Peter does too), imagining the conflict to be about the things Jesus will overcome. Or perhaps we notice God proving His power with fire and rain or Jesus producing a sign by walking on the water, and we are encouraged about His might.
However the stories here are speaking to something larger, hidden in the structure and center point of each passage. The conflict isn't about overcoming obstacles or sending signs. It's about identity and who we can recognize.
Can we recognize God? Who is He and what is He like?
Elijah responds to God’s voice, which sounds like gentle blowing instead of the thunderous earthquake and violent wind, and he stands before Him on the mountain. It’s different than he thought, based on what he knew from his ancestors.
Over in the book of Matthew, the question of who Jesus is has been building. In chapter 4, over and over again Jesus's temptations start with the taunt, “If you are the Son of God.” Then in chapter 8, Jesus and his disciples are similarly on a stormy boat. When Jesus commanded the wind and waves to still, they marveled and asked, “What kind of man is this?” But now, as He walks calmly with chaos around Him, speaking His commands confidently, those in the boat know who He is. “You are certainly God's Son!”
He knows our emotional state, knows the situation around us, and yet invites us into conversation. “Stand before the Lord, Elijah.” Come, Peter!” He beckons, calling us to His presence. He is calm, gentle, reassuring, controlled, unhurried. His presence is peace, and He is not flustered by our inner turmoil or by external conditions. “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.” He’s not what we thought, but better. We can recognize God because He reveals Himself to us and brings us near.
Notice who He brings near and what they’re like, too.
I like to imagine Elijah, famous prophet that he is, as this wizened grandpa, steady with measured emotions and sage advice. But that’s not Elijah in this story. Elijah is down-and-out, done, over it. He’s been at the same message, the same calling, the same task for so long, and it’s landed him a bounty on his head. He’s obeyed God’s commands, he recognizes God’s voice, and now he wants out. The dopamine hit isn’t hitting. Until God invites Him to His presence.
There was no rejection for a bad attitude, no refusal to listen to Elijah’s real emotions, however dramatic, on a tough day after a legitimately difficult season. Elijah didn’t get discarded for wanting a break, for being hungry, for needing a nap, for having just a little bit of faith. And then he encounters God. And although He answers God’s question with the same complaint of frustration, look at what God does next. He sends Elijah right back out again: to anoint kings and prophets, to have his hope restored as God shows him the faithful children.
So who follows God? People who get depressed, despite knowing God’s voice. People who have really bad days, while knowing they are doing what God asks them to. People who need a safe place to complain. People who are burned out. People who are tired. People who don’t have vision for what’s next. People who feel alone. People who come back to His presence because it’s a more lasting reward and restoration. People who are sent out again, rested, fed, and renewed by His presence.
Then I imagine Peter, a professional fisherman who left his career to follow Jesus. He’s literally seen Jesus calm the sea before. He listens to Jesus’s command to head out across the water, holding to the mission even when facing headwinds that literally make it impossible to do what was asked. And despite spending all his time with Jesus, Peter still doesn’t recognize Him on the water. He misidentifies him. Then, even after being reassured that it is in fact Jesus, Peter asks, “If it is You, command me to come to You.” In the middle of obeying, in the very moment of walking on the water, knowing that Jesus can command wind and waves, Peter’s belief wavers. It’s easy to criticize Peter at this moment, but the fact remains no one else is walking on the water. It’s like he’s showing us that we can be in the very act of doing the thing God commands us to and still not be sure about it. It can still feel like a mistake, like we’re all alone, especially when chaos is brewing around us. All conventional fisherman wisdom would tell him that he should not get out of the boat during a violent storm. These aren’t the conditions our dopamine-loving brain desires, and yet he’s taking slow, unsteady steps forward even in his uncertainty.
In case we needed more of an idea of who God is, note that none of that swirl stops Jesus from drawing near. None of the wavering or shouting in fear changes the disciples’ qualifications—they just have “little faith” not “zero faith”. He still comes to them. (The Great Commission echoes the same doubting waver later, and the disciples are still sent out.)
So who follows Jesus? People who ask “are you sure?” while taking steps. People who get scared of the risks. People who forget what God is capable of. People who get distracted in the middle of what they’re supposed to be doing. People who know better. People who need help more than once. People who don’t understand the first time. People who ask God to tell them to “come” because they know that being near Him is a better position than being away from Him. People who continue to carry His message, embraced by Him, reassured by Him.
Followers are so named because they take the same path, however unlikely. And it surprises me, but shouldn’t, that His followers don’t look like I thought either. Despite being in the literal and figurative darkest moments, surrounded within and without by chaos, His followers believe Him and they say so, being near to Him in both their heart and word, as Paul would put it in Romans, and that’s enough. And the reward? They experience Him showing a way forward, as the Psalmist says.
What is God like? He’s the one that meets our little-faith sprouts, hard-earned over time and seasons, with the loving gaze of His righteousness. He’s the one who continues to give good things and see the return in the long game. He’s the one who continues to commission and send us, making sure our zealous energy doesn’t get wasted on temporary silliness, speaking peace to us when we need it. All the things we imagine about God’s power and might are unexpectedly presented in gentleness, calmness, ease, and mercy, and it’s a better experience.
It takes the pressure off, frankly. If God can handle wavering and uncertainty, crankiness, bad attitudes, giving up, forgetting, misidentifying Him, asking for the wrong thing, complaining, trying again, getting stuck and being discouraged, then maybe following Him isn’t so daunting. We don’t have to go to heaven to fetch Him or descend to the abyss, as Romans says. In our little-faith moments, we are simply invited to be in His presence. Come near.
This also takes the pressure off of Paul’s questions in Romans:
“How then will they call on Him in whom they have not believed? How will they believe in Him whom they have not heard? And how will they hear without a preacher? How will they preach unless they are sent?”
How? Well, thankfully, it’s not going to require an elite squadron of super followers. It can be the patient, growing way of sending those who call on Him, who follow Him while being messy and imperfect. After all, as Paul quotes Isaiah, “whoever believes will not be disturbed” - or will not be in a hurry. There’s no rush for a quick reward here. The seeds will grow in us, His soil. The movements of God will develop over time, through generations, among His people and out of families, communities, and countries. He’s going to continue to send us, knowing that the perfect blossoming moment will come. How beautiful—or how timely, how fit exactly for the right moment and place—are the feet of those who bring good news!
On our hardest days and in our most impossible circumstances, may He remind us of the long return over the quick win. In the wearying good work, when we want the rush of cheap reward, could we come near to Him to be gently and softly encouraged toward His path and each next step. “Stand before the Lord.” “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.” “Come!”
A Prayer for Each Moment
God Who Whispers and Walks,
You are constant, steady in Your assurance, confident in Your presence. When we imagine the storm to be too great, may we find Your arms ever outstretched to pull us near. To Him who is able to keep us from stumbling, be glory, majesty, power and authority.
Amen.
A Prayer for Each Other
Our Father,
In our darkest caves and windy storms, we hear You speaking peace, and we see You making a way. You bring us rescue and restoration, determined to give us good things and to see us grow. May we come to You again and again, convinced of Your kindness.
Amen.
Blessing
May our hope and patience be continually renewed in Your presence, equipping us with all we need and encouraging us to the beautiful work ahead.
Photo by Mike Yukhtenko on Unsplash
I Kings 19:9-18
Matthew 14:22-33
Romans 10:5-15
Psalm 85:8-13
Jesus, if it’s You, on the water, in the cloud
I be the first one to walk out
Cause I love Your voice
And I know the sound
Hold on
Don’t grow tired
Don’t give up
He’s better
"Wouldn't It Be Like You" by Bryan and Katie Torwalt
Devotional:
Delayed gratification is a dying phenomena. I’m sure there’s an article somewhere categorizing it among the many casualties inflicted by millennials (including malls, cereal, cable tv, and more), but perhaps with greater consequence. Planting a seed and watching it grow or waiting for a chick to hatch under an incubator remain on the decreasing list of activities that teach children to wait. Everything else is immediate. Commercials? Not with streaming options. Lines? Not with store pick-up or amusement park quick queues. Coins for a video game power-up? Nope. Just buy a bundle of gems or credits if you can’t handle waiting 6 hours. Even macaroni and cheese got an “easy” version for the microwave, and cookie dough makers finally gave in to create safe-to-eat dough products because we couldn’t wait the 8-12 minutes to bake.
Social media, little treats, and immediate responses in text or chat all feed the other side of this powerful anti-waiting engine: dopamine. Dopamine is the feel-good chemical that we associate with reward, and our brain loves a cheap reward. Likes on a post? Dopamine. Grabbed a Snickers when you weren’t yourself? Dopamine. Crush messaged you back? Dopamine. It doesn’t take much, and our brain cements the neural pathways that get us dopamine the fastest. Even at school or on the job, our brain likes the quick fix of the project or assignment that can get done in minutes over the one that will take weeks of developing effort and study.
The combined effect is detrimental to hope. If we don’t find structures that ask us to pause, and our brain increasingly seeks short-term comforts, then we find ourselves distraught at the thought of waiting in discomfort. We become weary at the thought of the effort, burned out by the continued demand, and overwhelmed at the scale. When the process takes longer than our dopamine-conditioning affords, anxiety and doubt enter, pushing us to reconsider the situation or disengage altogether.
This is a perfect description of Elijah. The land is experiencing drought and famine. Ahab and his wife Jezebel have introduced Baal-worship and threatened the priests. And Elijah, following the command of God, has confronted the 450 prophets of Baal and 400 prophets of Asherah in a great fire-burning challenge. The false prophets are unsuccessful and destroyed, and the people of Israel declare that Yahweh is God upon seeing His fire come down. When Jezebel hears what has happened, she sets out to destroy Elijah, and he begins to run for his life. Elijah is spent. He just went through the whole battle of the gods, and while Yahweh was victorious, Elijah still faces death.
So he sets off for the wilderness. Put on your nomadic hat for a moment: entering into the desert during a known famine and drought is a death wish. Elijah makes his intention overt; he outright prays to God to just end it all. “It is enough! I’m no better than my ancestors!” He is depressed and disheartened at the prospect of yet more being required of him when he has seen so little change effected. Tired from running, hungry from famine, alone in his efforts. Pretty hopeless.
This is point in the story where perhaps you’ve seen the internet meme. Elijah falls asleep, gets up and has some food, falls asleep again, gets up and has more food, and then has enough strength to go on to the mountain of God. Toddler and preschooler moms know the power of a nap and a snack on overall mood, and Elijah needed two of each, just saying.
Fortified, Elijah goes to meet with God at Mt. Sinai. And when he gets there, he decides to stay in a cave, and God asks, “What are you doing here?”, as though He doesn’t know. Elijah issues his speech, like he and God have entered performance review season, and he’s negotiating for a raise. “I’ve been doing all the work! The others broke the rules, sabotaged the effort, and destroyed our resources. It’s just me left, and now they’re coming after me.” You can almost imagine he’s been rehearsing his talking points all the way to the mountain, expecting the reward of safety or acknowledgement or maybe just some time off. God doesn’t address any of this, but instead says to go and stand before Him.
And then something unusual happens. Elijah steps out of the cave, where God is passing by. A destructive wind, an earthquake, and fire all pass through—reminiscent of when Moses, one of Elijah’s ancestors, met with God on this same mountain—but God isn’t in any of those. Terrified, Elijah goes back in the cave, and, upon hearing a gentle blowing, comes out. God asks again, “What are you doing here?” Elijah recites his speech again. And this time, God gives him instructions for what to do next, and Elijah sets off.
Now there’s no denying the healing benefits of sleep and nutrition, but what about the complaints? What about the fleeing for his life? What was the whole reason for going to the mountain in the first place? It’s like we heard the whole plight, and because God didn’t address it, it just ceased to exist. What happened to the conflict?
To answer that, we actually need to jump to our text in Matthew, where Jesus and Peter walk on the water. Jesus has just finished feeding the 5,000, and Jesus has commanded the disciples to go on ahead of him across the water. He steals away to pray and then opts to walk across the water in the middle of the night to meet the disciples. The wind is raging, and the disciples think Jesus is a ghost and cry out in fear. Jesus reassures them it's Him, then Peter asks Jesus to call him out on the water. Jesus does, and Peter starts walking, but then gets afraid and begins to sink so Jesus rescues him. When the two of them return to the boat, everyone worships.
In both of these stories, it's easy to misplace the conflict. In Elijah's story, we can imagine it's going to be about God restoring Elijah's position and reputation as a prophet or securing his safety from Jezebel. In the walking on the water, we focus on the wind (don't feel bad, Peter does too), imagining the conflict to be about the things Jesus will overcome. Or perhaps we notice God proving His power with fire and rain or Jesus producing a sign by walking on the water, and we are encouraged about His might.
However the stories here are speaking to something larger, hidden in the structure and center point of each passage. The conflict isn't about overcoming obstacles or sending signs. It's about identity and who we can recognize.
Can we recognize God? Who is He and what is He like?
Elijah responds to God’s voice, which sounds like gentle blowing instead of the thunderous earthquake and violent wind, and he stands before Him on the mountain. It’s different than he thought, based on what he knew from his ancestors.
Over in the book of Matthew, the question of who Jesus is has been building. In chapter 4, over and over again Jesus's temptations start with the taunt, “If you are the Son of God.” Then in chapter 8, Jesus and his disciples are similarly on a stormy boat. When Jesus commanded the wind and waves to still, they marveled and asked, “What kind of man is this?” But now, as He walks calmly with chaos around Him, speaking His commands confidently, those in the boat know who He is. “You are certainly God's Son!”
He knows our emotional state, knows the situation around us, and yet invites us into conversation. “Stand before the Lord, Elijah.” Come, Peter!” He beckons, calling us to His presence. He is calm, gentle, reassuring, controlled, unhurried. His presence is peace, and He is not flustered by our inner turmoil or by external conditions. “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.” He’s not what we thought, but better. We can recognize God because He reveals Himself to us and brings us near.
Notice who He brings near and what they’re like, too.
I like to imagine Elijah, famous prophet that he is, as this wizened grandpa, steady with measured emotions and sage advice. But that’s not Elijah in this story. Elijah is down-and-out, done, over it. He’s been at the same message, the same calling, the same task for so long, and it’s landed him a bounty on his head. He’s obeyed God’s commands, he recognizes God’s voice, and now he wants out. The dopamine hit isn’t hitting. Until God invites Him to His presence.
There was no rejection for a bad attitude, no refusal to listen to Elijah’s real emotions, however dramatic, on a tough day after a legitimately difficult season. Elijah didn’t get discarded for wanting a break, for being hungry, for needing a nap, for having just a little bit of faith. And then he encounters God. And although He answers God’s question with the same complaint of frustration, look at what God does next. He sends Elijah right back out again: to anoint kings and prophets, to have his hope restored as God shows him the faithful children.
So who follows God? People who get depressed, despite knowing God’s voice. People who have really bad days, while knowing they are doing what God asks them to. People who need a safe place to complain. People who are burned out. People who are tired. People who don’t have vision for what’s next. People who feel alone. People who come back to His presence because it’s a more lasting reward and restoration. People who are sent out again, rested, fed, and renewed by His presence.
Then I imagine Peter, a professional fisherman who left his career to follow Jesus. He’s literally seen Jesus calm the sea before. He listens to Jesus’s command to head out across the water, holding to the mission even when facing headwinds that literally make it impossible to do what was asked. And despite spending all his time with Jesus, Peter still doesn’t recognize Him on the water. He misidentifies him. Then, even after being reassured that it is in fact Jesus, Peter asks, “If it is You, command me to come to You.” In the middle of obeying, in the very moment of walking on the water, knowing that Jesus can command wind and waves, Peter’s belief wavers. It’s easy to criticize Peter at this moment, but the fact remains no one else is walking on the water. It’s like he’s showing us that we can be in the very act of doing the thing God commands us to and still not be sure about it. It can still feel like a mistake, like we’re all alone, especially when chaos is brewing around us. All conventional fisherman wisdom would tell him that he should not get out of the boat during a violent storm. These aren’t the conditions our dopamine-loving brain desires, and yet he’s taking slow, unsteady steps forward even in his uncertainty.
In case we needed more of an idea of who God is, note that none of that swirl stops Jesus from drawing near. None of the wavering or shouting in fear changes the disciples’ qualifications—they just have “little faith” not “zero faith”. He still comes to them. (The Great Commission echoes the same doubting waver later, and the disciples are still sent out.)
So who follows Jesus? People who ask “are you sure?” while taking steps. People who get scared of the risks. People who forget what God is capable of. People who get distracted in the middle of what they’re supposed to be doing. People who know better. People who need help more than once. People who don’t understand the first time. People who ask God to tell them to “come” because they know that being near Him is a better position than being away from Him. People who continue to carry His message, embraced by Him, reassured by Him.
Followers are so named because they take the same path, however unlikely. And it surprises me, but shouldn’t, that His followers don’t look like I thought either. Despite being in the literal and figurative darkest moments, surrounded within and without by chaos, His followers believe Him and they say so, being near to Him in both their heart and word, as Paul would put it in Romans, and that’s enough. And the reward? They experience Him showing a way forward, as the Psalmist says.
What is God like? He’s the one that meets our little-faith sprouts, hard-earned over time and seasons, with the loving gaze of His righteousness. He’s the one who continues to give good things and see the return in the long game. He’s the one who continues to commission and send us, making sure our zealous energy doesn’t get wasted on temporary silliness, speaking peace to us when we need it. All the things we imagine about God’s power and might are unexpectedly presented in gentleness, calmness, ease, and mercy, and it’s a better experience.
It takes the pressure off, frankly. If God can handle wavering and uncertainty, crankiness, bad attitudes, giving up, forgetting, misidentifying Him, asking for the wrong thing, complaining, trying again, getting stuck and being discouraged, then maybe following Him isn’t so daunting. We don’t have to go to heaven to fetch Him or descend to the abyss, as Romans says. In our little-faith moments, we are simply invited to be in His presence. Come near.
This also takes the pressure off of Paul’s questions in Romans:
“How then will they call on Him in whom they have not believed? How will they believe in Him whom they have not heard? And how will they hear without a preacher? How will they preach unless they are sent?”
How? Well, thankfully, it’s not going to require an elite squadron of super followers. It can be the patient, growing way of sending those who call on Him, who follow Him while being messy and imperfect. After all, as Paul quotes Isaiah, “whoever believes will not be disturbed” - or will not be in a hurry. There’s no rush for a quick reward here. The seeds will grow in us, His soil. The movements of God will develop over time, through generations, among His people and out of families, communities, and countries. He’s going to continue to send us, knowing that the perfect blossoming moment will come. How beautiful—or how timely, how fit exactly for the right moment and place—are the feet of those who bring good news!
On our hardest days and in our most impossible circumstances, may He remind us of the long return over the quick win. In the wearying good work, when we want the rush of cheap reward, could we come near to Him to be gently and softly encouraged toward His path and each next step. “Stand before the Lord.” “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.” “Come!”
A Prayer for Each Moment
God Who Whispers and Walks,
You are constant, steady in Your assurance, confident in Your presence. When we imagine the storm to be too great, may we find Your arms ever outstretched to pull us near. To Him who is able to keep us from stumbling, be glory, majesty, power and authority.
Amen.
A Prayer for Each Other
Our Father,
In our darkest caves and windy storms, we hear You speaking peace, and we see You making a way. You bring us rescue and restoration, determined to give us good things and to see us grow. May we come to You again and again, convinced of Your kindness.
Amen.
Blessing
May our hope and patience be continually renewed in Your presence, equipping us with all we need and encouraging us to the beautiful work ahead.
Photo by Mike Yukhtenko on Unsplash
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