There are seasons where I think a lot of us are just…waiting.
Waiting for clarity. Waiting for direction. Waiting for God to hand us the plan in a neat, step-by-step outline so we can finally feel like we’re doing something right.
And if I’m honest, I think sometimes we assume that when that moment comes, it will feel big. Obvious. Unmissable.
But what if it doesn’t?
This week on the podcast, I sat down with Constance Hastings , and I have not stopped thinking about our conversation since. Because her story didn’t follow the plan she thought it would.
She thought she would teach, build a life, retire, and live simply. And instead, God led her into ministry. Into counseling. Into writing. Into things she never would have chosen or even imagined for herself.
And not in a clean, linear way either. In a “this doesn’t make sense” kind of way. In a “I don’t feel prepared for this” kind of way. In a “God, are you sure this isn’t enough already?” kind of way.
And I think that’s where a lot of us live. In the tension between what we thought our life would look like, and what God is actually doing.
There was one moment she shared that I can’t shake. She was on a retreat with a group of women, and somehow, she got left behind. Literally left.
And as she stood there alone, watching everyone else leave, something in her broke open. Anger. Doubt. Questions. The kind we don’t always say out loud.
“God, where are You?”
“Do You even see me?”
“Did You forget me?”
And then something shifted. Not because she figured it out. Not because she made it right. But because God met her there.
And when she came back, the women had returned for her.
But the real moment wasn’t them coming back. It was what happened in the in-between. And I think that’s where so much of our becoming actually happens.
Not when everything makes sense. Not when the plan is clear. Not when we feel confident and equipped. But in the spaces where we feel overlooked, uncertain, or undone.
We talk a lot about waiting in this community. But I think sometimes we still treat it like a pause button. Like we’re just sitting around until God decides to move. And what this conversation reminded me of is that waiting is not passive. It’s deeply active.
It looks like showing up in the small things. It looks like being faithful in what’s right in front of you. It looks like prayer, and community, and yes—even doing the dishes. And that was the part that really got me.
Because we love the idea of God moving in big, miraculous, undeniable ways. But most of the time? He speaks in the ordinary.
Constance shared that she got the title of her book while vacuuming. That God redirected her life while she was washing dishes. Nothing flashy. Nothing dramatic. Just ordinary moments that became sacred because God was in them.
And I think a lot of us miss that. We overlook the very places God is trying to meet us because they don’t look “spiritual enough.” But what if they are? What if your becoming is happening while you fold laundry? While you send that text? While you show up for the people in front of you?
What if the in-between isn’t empty but formative?
There’s a verse in Ecclesiastes that says there’s a time to plant and a time to harvest. But we don’t talk enough about the space in the middle. The quiet growth. The unseen roots. The waiting that doesn’t look like anything is happening, even though everything is.
That’s where a lot of us are.
And if that’s you right now, I just want to remind you: You’re not behind. You’re not forgotten. And you’re not just waiting.
God is forming you. In ways that aren’t always visible. In places that aren’t always celebrated. Through moments that feel ordinary—but aren’t wasted.
And maybe becoming isn’t about getting somewhere new as much as it is learning to see what God is already doing right here.
- Reanna
If you enjoyed this post, would you consider buying me a coffee? It helps me keep writing and encouraging others with the love of Jesus.
