About a month into my marriage, I woke early one morning, made coffee, and settled into my study of Deuteronomy. Partway through chapter 32, the passage right before God’s people enter the Promised Land, I paused and turned toward the window. The sun was just beginning to rise.

I lifted my mug—chicory coffee sweetened with vanilla cream—the warmth seeping into my palms as I watched the light creep over the cedar trees and spill into the wide golden plain of our Texas farmland. It felt like the dawn of everything, and it was all new: I had a new home, a new name, and a new calling as a wife.

And then the possibility of something else new quietly unsettled me.

I realized my body had skipped a beat in its monthly rhythm—something it never does. The joy of the morning gave way to a sudden rush of panic and excitement. I thought, are we really ready to be parents? Pregnancy so soon wasn’t part of our plans. I wanted time to savor the sweetness of our new marriage and to learn the shape of our life together before it changed again.

As I continued reading Deuteronomy, the text began to resonate more deeply. I caught the faintest impression of what it might have been like for the Israelites, standing on the edge of a new life, aware of both the gift and the gravity of what lay before them.

In Deuteronomy 32—often called the Song of Moses—God speaks through Moses before the Israelites enter the Promised Land, and they face a future brimming with promise and peril. This song not only declared that God is sovereign, but it also predicted that Israel would forget who their blessings originated from.

They will enjoy the land, settle into its blessings, and slowly lose sight of the God who brought them there:

Look now; I myself am he! There is no other god but me! I am the one who kills and gives life; I am the one who wounds and heals; no one can be rescued from my powerful hand! (Deuteronomy 32:39, NLT)

This is a song to remember precisely when life feels full, which for me are these honey-sweet days of early marriage. Yet the uncertainty of parenthood made it impossible to ignore that I do not reign over life—not even the one that may or may not be growing inside of me—and that realization has drawn me back to the God who does.

God alone governs life from its beginning to its end, from its wounds to its healing: nothing arrives early, late or by accident, and nothing unfolds outside His authority.

So, whether we are enjoying a new life we once prayed for or standing on the edge of unfamiliar ground that feels both promising and perilous, this remains true: God is sovereign over everything. Remembering this guards us from forgetting the God who gives every good gift, because He is our loving heavenly Father.

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Scripture is quoted from the Holy Bible New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.