Learning from the Daughters of Zelophehad

An example of bold faith that trusts God’s promises—even when we can’t see what’s around the corner.

I haven’t blogged in a few weeks—not because I didn’t want to, but because I needed quiet. The kind of quiet that lets you sit still long enough to hear what’s really happening in your heart.

And if I’m being honest, what I’ve heard lately is this: I struggle to trust God. (Actually, I’m realizing that I have massive trust issues—for a variety of reasons—but that’s a story for another day. 🫣🥴).

Here’s the thing—I really struggle to trust God in the details. In the waiting. In the not-yet. In the “how long, Lord?” In the seasons of life that feel endlessly long and difficult. I’ve been asking the Lord to show me what’s going on in my heart during this season of hardship. I’m tired. I feel pressed on every side. And while I know God is good, I wrestle with believing that His goodness is at work in the middle of my mess.

In the Lord’s kindness, He introduced me to the daughters of Zelophehad during Bible study this past week. This is a story about five brave women who trusted God enough to ask for something that didn’t yet exist—something that wasn’t yet within reach but was fully anchored in His promise.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

The Bold Ask of Zelophehad’s Daughters

This story, tucked into Numbers 27, has captivated my heart over the past few days. It’s about five sisters—Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah, and Tirzah—the daughters of Zelophehad. Their father had died in the wilderness, leaving no sons behind.

At this point in Israel’s history, the people were preparing to enter the Promised Land. Land allotments were being assigned to families and tribes. But because Zelophehad had no sons, his daughters stood to be left out.

Instead of accepting what seemed like a fixed reality, these daughters went to Moses and asked for their father’s portion to be given to them.

Here’s the part that undoes me: they asked before the promise was fulfilled.

They asked before the land was conquered. Before any family had stepped into their inheritance. Before they knew what the future would hold. They believed the promise so deeply that they made plans accordingly. And God honored their faith.

When You Can’t See Around the Corner

I want to be like those daughters. I want to trust God’s promises before I see fulfillment. I want to pray and plan and ask boldly, even when I’m still in the wilderness.

But if I’m honest, that kind of faith doesn’t come easily to me.

Suffering has a way of shrinking your vision. When the pain is persistent—when the fog of hardship won’t lift—it’s hard to imagine a future that looks different. It’s hard to believe that “this light momentary affliction” really is preparing for me “an eternal weight of glory” (2 Corinthians 4:17).

Some days, I’m tempted to live like the hardship is the whole story.

But the daughters of Zelophehad remind me that the promises of God are still true, even in the tension of the not-yet. And they remind me that faith doesn’t always look like a loud declaration. Sometimes, it looks like quiet asking. Like constant believing God enough to make plans for the land you haven’t touched yet.

And just like the hard wasn’t the end for those daughters, the hard isn’t the end of my story either.

More importantly, the hard wasn’t the end for Jesus. When He hung on the cross—bruised, bloodied, and seemingly defeated—I can only imagine what the onlookers thought. No one could see around the corner. No one knew that resurrection was coming.

But we get the privilege of looking back. We get to see the full picture. We get to see how God used the darkest moment in history to bring about eternal light and hope, for us.

That’s the kind of perspective I want to hold onto—the kind that sees the cross and remembers the empty tomb.

Living Like the Promise Is Already Yours

Friend, maybe you’re in a season like mine—long, hard, and foggy. Maybe you’ve been sitting in the quiet, wondering if/how God is still moving. Let this story be an encouragement to you: faith doesn’t require all the answers. It just requires the courage to ask anyway. That’s faith!—“confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” (Hebrews‬ ‭11‬:‭1‬)

Allow me to encourage you as I am encouraging myself: Ask like the daughters of Zelophehad. Plan like the land is already yours. Trust that the God who led you into this wilderness knows how to lead you out.

And when you can’t see around the corner, remember: He can. He always could. The same God who turned the cross into the greatest act of redemption is still writing your story. Every path He places your feet on leads to good—not always the kind of good we imagine, but the kind that shapes us into the image of Christ.

And that’s the kind of faith I want to live out. Quiet, firm, cross-shaped faith that is rooted in the promises of a God who never fails.