Trusting God Is Like Trying to Assemble IKEA Furniture

It Comes Together—Eventually

I was feeling pretty good about myself. Months before our second son, Isaac, was born, we made the responsible decision to buy all his nursery furniture from IKEA. Efficiently flat-packed, neatly stored in the closet, and ready whenever I decided to get around to it.

Which, of course, was 10 days before his due date.

I stayed up all night in a blur of cursing, coffee, and existential doubt, surrounded by an avalanche of wooden pegs, inexplicable metal fasteners, and cryptic diagrams that may or may not have been written with the same codebook as the Voynich manuscript. Piece by piece, I questioned whether I had already ruined it. Nothing looked like a crib. Nothing made sense. And then—at the very end—something happened.

All those scattered pieces finally came together.

Funny enough, faith works the same way.

Contemporary room design featuring colorful artwork, sleek furniture, and decorative elements.

When Faith Feels Like an Unfinished Project

Even the clearest instructions still require trust—because nothing looks right until the very end. IKEA’s HEMNES Day Bed comes with step-by-step diagrams, but for most of the process, it looks like an unstructured pile of frustration. The vision isn’t clear until the last step.

Our spiritual lives, on the other hand, rarely come with instructions that are even that specific. More often than not, faith is a process of moving forward without knowing exactly how it will all fit together.

Take Abram in Genesis 15. He’s been following God for years, trusting in a promise that has yet to materialize. He’s tired. He’s skeptical. And so he does what every frustrated human does—he offers God a Plan B.

“Maybe Eliezer, my servant, can be my heir?” (Gen 15:2-3, paraphrased).

Translation: Maybe I misunderstood the instructions. Maybe this is the best I can do with what I’ve got.

But God doesn’t adjust the promise. Instead, he invites Abram to look up at the stars. Count them—if you can. That’s how many descendants you’ll have.

And somehow, despite the missing pieces, despite the uncertainty, Abram believes.

Naomi & Ruth: Trusting When the Pieces Don’t Fit Yet

Faith rarely feels like a step-by-step process with neatly labeled instructions. It’s more like trying to build something when you’re not even sure what it’s supposed to look like yet.

Naomi knew that feeling.

She had a vision for her life—security, family, a future. Then everything collapsed. Her husband died. Her sons died. Her dreams for stability were completely dismantled, and all she could see was an empty life ahead. When she returned to Bethlehem, she didn’t go in faith—she went in resignation, telling everyone to call her Mara, “bitter,” because, as far as she could tell, God had abandoned her.

And yet, the pieces were still coming together.

Through Ruth’s loyalty, through unexpected kindness, through a redeemer she never saw coming, Naomi’s future was rebuilt in a way she could never have orchestrated on her own. Ruth’s faithfulness wasn’t just companionship—it was God’s presence in action. Boaz’s kindness wasn’t just generosity—it was evidence of God’s faithfulness working through others. By the end of the story, Naomi is holding a grandson in her arms, a child who would be part of the very lineage of David—and ultimately, Jesus.

She couldn’t have imagined that ending in her grief. But that didn’t mean the plan wasn’t unfolding.

That’s the difference. Faith doesn’t mean seeing instant results—it means trusting that God is amazing at design. And more than that, it means knowing that God isn’t just the designer—God is walking with us through every step.

Keep Going (Even When It Feels Like a Disaster)

In the middle of the night, surrounded by crib parts, I was convinced I had ruined everything. But the instructions weren’t wrong—I just wasn’t far enough along to see the whole picture.

Maybe that’s where you are in faith. Maybe things aren’t making sense, and you’re wondering if you’ve already messed it up beyond repair.

If so, keep going.

Five Reminders for When Faith Feels Like an IKEA Disaster

  1. The Instructions Won’t Make Sense Until the End – You may not see how it’s coming together, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t.
  2. It Won’t Look Like Anything Until It Starts Taking Shape – Faith often feels disjointed and chaotic until suddenly, something makes sense.
  3. You’ll Think You’re Ruining It Before You Get It Right – Every major step of faith feels like a mistake before it reveals its purpose.
  4. The Best Parts Often Come Last – Naomi thought her life was over, but her greatest blessing hadn’t even arrived yet.
  5. The End Result Is Worth the Frustration – Isaac’s crib turned out fine. Your faith will too.

Faith Means Trusting the Process

When Abram counted the stars, he didn’t see a son in front of him. But he trusted the one who made the promise.

When Naomi returned to Bethlehem, she thought her story was over. But God was still writing it.

And during Lent, when we reflect on Jesus’ journey to the cross, we are reminded how difficult faith can feel when the middle of the story looks nothing like redemption. The disciples didn’t understand what was happening. Jesus’ suffering looked like a disaster. But it was part of something bigger than they could see.

Faith doesn’t promise an easy assembly. But in the end, what God builds is stronger, steadier, and more beautiful than we imagined.

And no hex key required.