Five Loaves, Two Fish & One Mild-to-Mid Spiral

Confession: I’ve had the final proof of Messy Days, Mighty God for over a week.

I haven’t said a word about it on social media. Why?

Excellent question. I have absolutely no idea.

It’s been on the to-do list. I have reel ideas saved. Most of this year, I’ve had social media scheduled at least two weeks ahead.

But not this week. Not last week either.

And social media isn’t usually the thing I avoid. Sophie and I have fun making ridiculous reels together. There was a time when posting myself looking goofy on the internet made me wildly uncomfortable. But I pushed through that discomfort enough times that somewhere along the way, it mostly became fun.

So what’s the holdup? I’ve been asking myself the same thing.

Since the proof arrived, I’ve designed and ordered a photo backdrop. I learned how to make Canva templates for mugs, stickers and notebooks. I created the Facebook launch event. I added three new speaking engagements to my calendar in one week. I know the Amazon launch date.

And somehow I’ve managed to talk publicly about the swag while saying almost nothing about the launch timeline or the speaking. Interesting.

I’ve learned to pay attention when my behavior doesn’t quite make sense. Because usually there’s the obvious story happening—and then there’s another battle underneath it.

My best guess? This is getting a little too real.

For months, Messy Days, Mighty God was a manuscript. An idea. A file on my computer. Now there is an actual book sitting in my house. There are dates on the calendar. There are rooms of women I’ve agreed to stand in front of.

And with all of that comes something I recognize:

anxiety.

I know this feeling.

Our foster care years introduced me to anxiety in a way I had never understood before. That constant buzz under your skin. A Rolodex of thoughts flipping through your brain—except apparently somebody put the Rolodex on a hamster wheel, and that hamster is training for the Olympics.

There was so much beauty in those years. Every morning I woke up to a precious little girl who snuggled me, called me Mom, loved her brothers and her “Dad,” and was woven completely into our family.

But behind all of it sat one enormous unknown: We had no idea what would happen.

And that uncertainty stole years of peace.

With some distance, I can see something now that was harder to see while I was living it.

The enemy loves uncertainty. He can use it to paralyze. To make us question. To convince us to shrink. And lately, I’ve caught him recycling the playbook.

There are no state workers this time. No courtrooms.

Instead, there are questions like: What if I’ve invested all of this time and money and the book never comes out of the red? What if people don’t like it? What if it isn’t good enough? What if I stand in front of women I desperately want to encourage…and I’m not very good at this?

You know what would be easier?

To quietly publish it. Do the part that feels safely obedient and then back away from the vulnerable part.

I could even make it sound spiritual: “It’s in God’s hands now.”

And it is. Completely. But there is a difference between surrendering the outcome and abandoning the stewardship.

God never asked me to control what happens with this message. He did ask me to carry it faithfully.

To write the book. To send the invitation. To tell people it exists. To walk into the room. To hold the microphone. To keep taking the next step even when uncertainty starts buzzing under my skin again.

It’s the story behind the name Loaves Letter. Five loaves. Two fish. Thousands of hungry people.

Not enough. The boy could not manufacture the miracle. But he could put what he had into Jesus’ hands. That part was his. The multiplication was not.

I think sometimes we confuse faith with feeling completely peaceful before we move. But Ephesians 6 doesn’t describe someone reclining peacefully on a chaise lounge while nothing comes against them.

It describes armor. A sword. A shield. A battle.

Faith doesn’t mean the fiery darts never fly. It means we don’t have to stand there defenseless when they do.

So I’m dusting off weapons God taught me to use a long time ago: Truth. Prayer. Thanksgiving. Worship. Faith. Not pretending I’m never anxious. Not shaming myself because an old battle showed back up. Just recognizing the playbook and refusing to let it choose my next move.

Maybe you recognize one too. Maybe something God has asked you to do has suddenly gotten real. Maybe the uncertainty is louder than it was when everything was theoretical. Maybe an old fear has resurfaced and you’re wondering if that means you’re on the wrong path. But maybe it doesn’t.

Sometimes resistance shows up while we are continuing to walk the exact road God asked us to walk. So don’t confuse feeling weak with being disobedient. Pick up the sword. Raise the shield. Get on your knees. And take the next faithful step.

Messy Days, Mighty God Update

Apparently my next faithful step is actually telling people what’s happening. 😱

The physical book is here. The in-person launch is September 26, and the Amazon launch is October 1.

There are also several speaking events on the calendar over the next few months, which still feels slightly surreal to type.

If you’d like to see where I’ll be, you can find the full upcoming schedule here on the website.

And yes—there may or may not be a slightly more entertaining official book reveal coming soon.

The loaves are on the table. What happens with them has never been my job.

Five loaves. Two fish. Not enough.

Until it was.

Thank you for how you’ve walked with me this far. I sure am a lucky gal.

With Love & Fizz,
Devan