For This House
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
Every Season. Every Space. All for Him.
March 16, 2026 | 11 min read
Krystal Cerrillo
I think about Corrie Ten Boom’s life and legacy often. A Dutch Christian who hid Jewish people during World War II and survived a concentration camp, she lived these words with extraordinary courage. Her witness continues to spur me on all these years later.
“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.”
— Corrie Ten Boom
The truth is, we cannot plan our lives. We aren’t sovereign over the future, and our illusion of control is just that—an illusion. We so often misplace our trust in our own perceived ability to alter plans, adjust the course, and determine the outcomes of our hoped-for dreams. But the reality is that much of life is uncertain. We wake up to a new day by God’s grace, His fresh morning mercies meeting us as the coffee brews and children eagerly await breakfast. We anticipate how the day will unfold, but we truly have no idea what the next moments hold.
Proverbs 16:9 reminds us: “The heart of a man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps.” We are to make plans as best we can, but ultimately hold everything open-handed before the Lord—trusting that when things go sideways, it is for a divine purpose.
Corrie Ten Boom’s words are a powerful reminder that not if but when we encounter disappointment, and when circumstances seem bleak, we can take heart—because we know Who holds our lot. The Lord’s plans are to prosper His children. To give us hope and a future. We may not know what lies ahead, but He does. And because we know Him, we can trust that it will be good. His plans often remain a mystery, so we learn to trust not in our plans, but in Him alone.
“The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.”
— Psalm 16:5–6
Psalm 16 reminds us of our true wealth and riches in Christ. Our beautiful inheritance is eternal—one that can never be taken away or measured by worldly standards. The Lord has given us Himself. He is our portion, our cup, and our beautiful inheritance. He remains the same through every changing season we endure. His faithfulness is more sure than the rising and setting of the sun.
So, as believers who have already received this beautiful inheritance, how do we walk in that truth when our circumstances suddenly shift and we find ourselves heavy-laden with unmet expectations? What does it look like to anchor ourselves to the joy of knowing Christ rather than depending on our situation to produce the peace and joy that only He can give? Fleeting, temporal season shifts are inevitable—what we do with them either empowers us or entraps us.
I could write for hours on the complexities of nomadic living as a military family, always subject to an ever-changing context, moving every three years—sometimes overseas and back again. I don’t know anything different, and yet I am always surprised by new changes and sudden updates that require flexibility and yet another pivot. I am always learning more about the art of cultivating contentment in the midst of change and uncertainty. Whether or not you relate to the military lifestyle, we who are hidden in Christ are all pilgrims marching home to be with the Father in glory—living with an eternal perspective even as everything around us constantly shifts.
Last year, we moved to Iwakuni, Japan. We had lived in Okinawa for four years prior, then spent five years stateside between our Japan tours. We see it as a privilege—living as missionaries on foreign soil, sharing the Gospel and living on mission as a family among our Japanese neighbors off base and those in the military community on base. We certainly didn’t plan to return to Japan, but the Lord’s ways are always better than ours and more beautiful than we could ever imagine.
Moving away from family and community last year was incredibly challenging. Being uprooted, only to be planted again somewhere entirely new—where we knew no one and waited three months for our household goods to arrive—did not feel ideal. It takes real time to settle, re-establish roots, and recalibrate after a significant life shift.
I share these details because I want to empathize with those of you who have walked a similar season—full of change, unknowns, and the need to surrender and trust that no purpose of the Lord’s can be thwarted. If He is calling your family to a new thing, a new place, a new season, then surely He goes before you and is making a way—for a reason far bigger than what you can see right now.
In the last couple of months, I’ve had fresh opportunities to practice contentment. My mom booked a flight to stay with us through Christmas and New Year’s, and then got really sick. Praise God she’s feeling much better now, but she had to cancel her trip—and I was devastated.
Then, two weeks ago, while my husband was away for work, our entire household came down with the flu. Completely unexpected, and the last thing we had planned for.
As I was reflecting on contentment and praying through what to write—particularly around our move overseas last year—it became clear that the Lord was giving me opportunity after opportunity to put action to these words. To walk out contentment so I could share with you from the other side.
In all honesty, I had to examine my own heart. Was I counting it all joy in the disappointment of changed plans? Was I grumbling through the sickness, complaining about how inconvenient it was to cancel everything and stay indoors all week with illness running through our home? Was I walking in the truth of 1 Timothy 6:6—”But godliness with contentment is great gain”—or was I failing to trust that the Lord would use all of this, somehow, for my good?
“For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
— 2 Corinthians 12:10
The heart of the Gospel—and our good news in weakness—is repentance. God’s loving kindness leads us there. To humbly repent and ask for eyes to see beyond our current circumstances, to see what He wants us to see.
Looking back, I can see it more clearly now: the discomfort of sickness was a reminder that my ultimate healing is secured in Jesus. Being brought low reminded me that Christ has lifted me up out of all my affliction and trouble. The sadness of canceled plans was an invitation to fix my eyes on the truth that the Lord cares for every tear that falls and promises us His presence.
He remains the same and is with us in it. If He cares for the sparrows of the sky and the lilies of the field, providing their every need, how much more does He care for us? Our disappointment matters to Him. He invites us to lament, and then He beckons us to remember His faithfulness.
Even when our situations feel deeply uncertain, the Lord uses those very unknowns not only to cultivate contentment in us, but to grow in us a deep-rooted trust in Him alone—the only One who remains the same yesterday, today, and forevermore.
When everything changes, He never does.
When everything seems out of order, He alone is orderly.
When everything seems chaotic, He alone is peace.
When everything feels unfamiliar, He alone is known.
He uses our ever-changing circumstances to point us to the One who never changes.
I am not alone in this experience—and neither are you. Every one of us has felt disappointment, unexpected change, unmet expectations, and grief. We all have a story to share, and my prayer is that whoever is reading this feels a little less alone if you’re currently wrestling through contentment in difficult circumstances.
When I was sick a few weeks ago, with my husband away for work, our community showed up in the most intentional ways. Porch drop-offs. Phone calls. Offers to grab things from the grocery store. Friends being the hands and feet of Jesus when I couldn’t get off the couch.
This is God’s good design. Community is togetherness. The enemy prowls around looking to devour people in isolation. If you’re reading this and aren’t currently connected to a local, Bible-loving, expository-preaching church, I’d lovingly encourage you to find one. It reflects the Father’s heart for His people to be united—serving one another for their good and His glory. We are all members of one body, and we truly thrive when we’re woven into a local church.
A part of building contentment is being immersed in community—surrounding ourselves with followers of Jesus who help us cultivate Kingdom joy that is rooted firmly in Christ, not in our circumstances. We need each other. What a mercy that the Lord has given us clear instruction to never neglect gathering together as partakers of His grace.
For what will it profit us to gain everything we hoped for in our circumstances, but lose our obedience to Christ and our trust in Him?
Olivia Wilcox (@thenotsoangrymom) has spoken beautifully about what she calls “Kingdom Math”—the idea that Kingdom Math is not our math, but it is the best math.
Kingdom Math will never make sense to the world, but it is life for those of us who, “with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3:18).
We are being transformed, and our hope is found in that Kingdom Math: to lose the whole world but gain everlasting life. To lose comfort but gain the Kingdom of God. When we lose those we love, when we lose our jobs, our dreams, our homes—if we have Jesus and Jesus alone, we have everything we could ever need.
In order to taste and see His goodness, we have to become uncomfortable in our circumstances and dissatisfied with our temporary gains—so that we come to understand, fully and deeply, that only Christ satisfies and sustains.
Kingdom Math is recognizing our fullness in Christ when all else is stripped away. It is reaching the end of ourselves and crying out, “Hallelujah! All I have is Christ!”
The Lord uses every loss, disappointment, doubt, fear, unwanted pivot, and waiting season to produce something in us: relief. Relief that our hope is not bound to our circumstances. He also produces faith more precious than gold as we walk through the fire of refinement (1 Peter 1:7)—faith that one day will become sight. A greater reliance on Him. A deeper trust in His provision. And through it all, the fruit of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.
“I have learned to kiss the wave that throws me against the Rock of Ages.” — Charles Spurgeon
When the waves come, you’ll find me journaling and praying. Reading in Proverbs to remind my heart that making plans is good, but trusting the Lord with everything is always better. (You may have heard “a Proverb a day keeps the foolishness away”—I’d add that it keeps the discontentment away too, because cultivating contentment is active, not passive.)
I also play hymns throughout the day, creating an atmosphere of worship at home that lifts the focus off my present circumstances and onto the One Who is sovereign over them. When you’re singing “All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided; great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me”—it’s quite difficult to stay discontent and hopeless.
When circumstances keep throwing you upon the Rock of Ages, may we be found faithful to rejoice all the more in the unknowns and the uncertainty. Because it is there, in that very place, that the Lord reveals Himself to be faithful and steadfast. We don’t have to worry or fear. We can simply trust Him and rejoice with a joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory.
Heavenly Father,
Thank You that You are unchanging and steadfast. You love me with a covenant love that reaches into eternity and secures our souls. I know I can confidently take the next step in faith without knowing the outcome—because You do.
I don’t need to understand the hidden and often messy parts of the plan. I simply need to obey and walk in love, as You love me.
Help me trust when I can’t see the bigger picture. Help me hide Scripture in my heart so that when I am prone to wander, or grow anxious about uncertainties, I quickly return to Your truth.
In Jesus’ holy name, Amen.
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Krystal Cerrillo is a military spouse of eight years and a stay-at-home mama to two littles. Currently residing in North Carolina, she has a heart for missional-minded hospitality and serving their local church plant in pursuit of military families. She enjoys raising chickens, thrifting, fresh flowers, sipping coffee at any local spot, and learning more about the beautiful art of homemaking.
Krystal Cerrillo is a military spouse of eight years and a stay-at-home mama to two littles. Currently residing in North Carolina, she has a heart for missional-minded hospitality and serving their local church plant in pursuit of military families. She enjoys raising chickens, thrifting, fresh flowers, sipping coffee at any local spot, and learning more about the beautiful art of homemaking.