A Short Thought to Close Out the Week

[If this one felt like a giant 'not yet.']

As the afternoon hours dwindle on this Friday afternoon, I can’t help but reflect on the high hopes I had for this week, and the reality that most of them didn’t happen.

For example, I had hoped to hear back on an article pitch I sent in to a new magazine, but I refreshed my email a million times this week and the response never came through.

I had dreamed of getting good news about a contest that I competed in, but I got a rejection instead.

I had wanted to spend time expanding my network, but life came up and my poor audience got neglected.

This week, it felt like all of my efforts were just met with one giant ‘not yet.’

I hate the ‘not yet.’ You? It’s like waiting to be old enough to get your ears pierced. You see other girls with pretty hoops and sparkly studs and they’re just so happy and fun. And you? You just have plain old lobes. You can see what you want and you are pretty sure it will happen someday, but the wait feels impossibly long and unfair.

While it’s hard to close the books on another week knowing that what we’ve longed for still didn’t happen, and it can be painful to keep hoping and working and wondering in the middle of the ‘not yet’ times, I read something in Exodus that is sobering and good and reminds me how loving and intentional God is in his timing.

When God’s talking to Moses about his plan to make space for the Israelites in the land of the Hivites and Canaanites and Hethites (whole lotta ‘ites’ there), he says, “I will not drive them out ahead of you in a single year; otherwise, the land would become desolate, and wild animals would multiply against you” (Exodus 23:29).

Now, obviously the Isrealites would want the land to themselves as soon as possible. They would want to enjoy the full blessings of God’s promises right away. That’s relatable. Don’t we want to have it all now, too? The house, the job, the work-life balance, the family, the recognition, the dreams?

But God has a reason for giving the land to them gradually, and it’s not to make them squirm or melt into a big puddle of frustration. It’s to protect them. Sure - they’ve got their eyes set on sprawling homesteads and fruitful harvests, but God can see what they can’t: the threat of that blessing ruining them if they receive it before they’re ready.

But God has a reason for giving the land to them gradually, and it’s not to make them squirm or melt into a big puddle of frustration. It’s to protect them.

And it makes me think about the things I want most in my professional life: namely, to publish lots of words and have those words be read by lots of people. All I can see is the blessing in that: the excitement of seeing my work in print, the compensation, and the opportunity to share Jesus in a larger capacity. But maybe, just maybe, God can see wild animals lurking there that I can’t. Unforeseen stressors. Unexpected challenges. Strains that could put my faith, family, relationships or health at risk if they’re applied before my soul is prepared. The potential for the same blessing I’m begging for to ruin me.

It makes me think that all the ‘not yets’ we’re hearing might actually just be ‘I love yous’ in disguise.

While it doesn’t make waiting any more enjoyable than before, it certainly makes it more tolerable to consider that God hasn’t just chosen an obscure date in the future for our dreams to come true; his ‘not yets’ are truly intentional and tender in design. He’s not a mean dad who likes to watch us beg and plead - he’s a loving dad who doesn’t want to watch us walk into desolate places or be eaten alive by wild animals.

But maybe, just maybe, God can see wild animals lurking there that I can’t.

So tonight, let’s you and me say thank you to God for his timing, as difficult as that may be. We can keep working toward our dreams on Monday, but for now, let’s just lay them down at the feet of our father and say, “Here. I trust that you know more about these than I do.”