When God Says ‘Not Yet’

But Joseph said to his brothers, “Don’t be afraid of me. Am I God, that I can punish you? You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people.” Genesis 50:19–20

This is a powerful statement, made by a man whose own brothers sold him into slavery, who was punished for a crime he did not commit, and who was ultimately left to rot in prison for years. Throughout Joseph’s story, there are multiple moments when it feels like God is about to rescue him, about to pull him out of trouble, only for Joseph to fall into an even deeper place of despair.

While imprisoned and completely innocent, Joseph interprets the dreams of two of Pharaoh’s servants, clearly giving God all the glory: “Interpreting dreams is God’s business.” One of those men is released from prison just as Joseph said he would be, yet he forgets Joseph entirely. Not for a few days or weeks, but for TWO more years… So how is Joseph able, years later, to speak so confidently about the goodness of God that resulted from such deep suffering?

I want to share a story of my own, one that reflects how God shows up for us in much the same way He showed up for Joseph. Often, it’s not in the way we expect, and rarely on the timeline we want. Several years ago, Jason and I were in the middle of our first custody battle with his ex-wife. It had been grueling to get as far as we had, but we finally reached what looked like a hopeful agreement, one that would bring the kids closer to us and simplify the chaos and constant travel that defined the early years of our marriage.

We were prepared to move forward, agreeing to all the conditions (even some that felt incredibly imbalanced) because we believed the benefits would outweigh our concerns. Around that same time, I was driving and listening to a sermon by Andy Stanley called “Pay Attention to the Tension.” He encouraged listeners to pause and examine feelings of unease or internal “red flags” before making decisions. As I listened, the tension I had been suppressing suddenly spoke loudly. I had genuine fears about some of the parameters we were being asked to accept and how they could impact our very new marriage. Yes, it was incredibly important to create stability and peace for the kids, but we couldn’t do that effectively if our own relationship became disconnected or conflicted.

I shared the sermon and my concerns with Jason, and we prayed. It’s hard to fully explain the complexity of the decision we were facing, but we truly believed the kids needed to be closer to us, especially given the violence they were experiencing away from our home. Yet in prayer, God clearly guided us not to move forward. He assured us of His presence and grace, but He made it clear: it was not yet time. Friends, that decision was incredibly hard.

When we told our attorney we couldn’t agree to the final piece of the negotiation, she actually paused and asked me to stop talking so she could confirm directly with Jason that this was what he truly wanted. It meant the kids would not move closer. They wouldn’t be in our school system. And our already chaotic schedules would continue for an unknown length of time.

But in that decision, God moved in unexpected ways. He normalized schedules, created healthier rhythms, and gave us more meaningful time with both the kids and each other. He also established boundaries that helped protect us from the constant instability we had been navigating. Three years later, as the unhealthy situation continued for the kids, we returned to court. It was no easier than the first time, but during those three years, our marriage had grown stronger. We had leaned into both personal and marital counseling and continued growing closer to God and to one another. And then God moved—in His time. As a result, so much good came from the time before, during, and after we were finally awarded full custody.

I wish I could say those years were easy, but they weren’t. There were significant challenges for all of us, including the kids. But there was also growth… growth in faith, in maturity, and in our ability to parent from a place of health and unity. God used that waiting to prepare us for the responsibility He was about to entrust to us. I imagine Joseph in a similar way, knowing he had faithfully interpreted both servants’ dreams, watching one of them walk free, and then waiting… and waiting… two more years…seven hundred and thirty days in a prison cell, with nothing to do but either lean away from God, or lean into Him.

So when Joseph is finally called before Pharaoh and asked to interpret his dreams, his response is simple and humble: “It is beyond my power to do this, but God can tell you what it means and set you at ease.” From that moment, Joseph becomes second-in-command in all of Egypt. He flourishes as a leader and is eventually reunited with the very brothers who betrayed him. And instead of responding with anger or revenge, he declares, “What you intended for evil, God intended for good.”

Friends, God is good, All the time. And All the time, God is good. He rarely works on our timeline, but He always works on the right one. We may not understand His delays, but we can trust His heart. We can lean into Him, commit to obedience, and allow growth to happen in the waiting. Sometimes we get the gift of seeing why God waited. Other times, it may never fully make sense to us. But this I know: God is always at work behind the scenes… for our good and for the gift of eternity He has promised us.

The Pause That Protects Love

“Hurry is the great enemy of spiritual life.” — Dallas Willard

“Hurry” doesn’t only describe our schedules—it describes our reactions, our emotions,

and the pressure we feel in moments of conflict. I was reminded of this truth during an

argument with my husband not long ago.

“Jason, I’m calling a time out. We need to take a break and come back to this once

each of us has settled down,” I said as I walked down the stairs toward my office, my

husband right behind me.

“I’m not done—I need you to hear what I’m saying…” he insisted. And honestly, I still

had plenty I wanted to say too. But I knew that if we kept pushing forward in that hurried

emotional state, nothing good was going to come of it. We needed space.

When we came back to the conversation later, both of us had softened. We’d each had

time to reflect on what was really beneath our strong reactions. We listened better. We

spoke more gently. We understood each other more clearly.

Let me be clear—I wasn’t always good at this. It took time, counseling, and lots of trial

and error to recognize the moment when an argument was no longer productive and

when a break was desperately needed. I wanted to be understood just as much as he

did, but as tension rose, I would withdraw, and neither of us was operating from a

healthy place anymore.

Sometimes the holiest thing we can do in a heated moment is to slow everything down.

When we’re in conflict—especially with the people closest to us—we feel an urgency

rise within us. The urgency to be understood. The urgency to defend ourselves. The

urgency to solve the problem right now. But that urgency is rarely from the Holy Spirit.

More often, it comes from our woundedness, our fear, or simply our pride.

Willard often taught that spiritual transformation happens in the “unhurried spaces” of

our lives. When we rush, our souls constrict; when we slow down, our hearts open.

That’s true in prayer, in daily life—and absolutely in marriage. When we take a moment

to pause, breathe, and step away, we are doing more than stopping an argument. We

are creating room for God to work.

There are times in conflict when we become emotionally “flooded.” Dr. John Gottman

uses this term to describe the physiological and psychological overwhelm triggered by

intense anxiety during conflict. Our brains are wired for self-protection, and when

emotions escalate, they push us toward taking a pause. It’s not just helpful—it’s

necessary—to let our nervous systems settle so we can actually engage in a healthy,

rational conversation.

Scripture echoes this wisdom. James writes:

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry,

because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires.”

— James 1:19–20

But when we’re flooded with emotion, we are anything but slow. We are in a frantic,

hurried internal state. Our bodies go into fightorflight mode. Our thoughts race. Our

hearts pound. Our words get sharper, louder, or more desperate.

In that state, wisdom is nearly impossible.

Pausing isn’t just a communication technique—it’s a spiritual practice. It’s choosing to

step out of hurry and invite God into the moment. It’s making space for peace to re-

enter the room. When my husband and I took a time out that day, we weren’t just

cooling off—we were slowing down enough to hear God’s voice again and to remember

who we were to each other.

And yes, this took time to learn. It took counseling. It took mistakes. It took many

moments when we allowed hurry to take over, and we paid the relational price. But

slowly, we discovered a different way—a way marked by patience, gentleness, and a

deliberate slowness that helped us return to each other with clearer minds and softer

hearts.

This is what Willard meant. Hurry isn’t just about schedules. It’s about the internal rush

that pulls us away from wisdom, compassion, and presence. The enemy uses hurry to

fracture relationships; God uses slowness to restore them.

If you’re in a heated argument—heart racing, stress rising—there is almost zero chance

you’re being quick to listen or slow to speak. That’s why taking time to calm down

matters. Step back. Remember you love your spouse. Assume the best. Create space

so you can show up as your best, most Christlike self before continuing the

conversation.

What I’ve learned again and again is this: if I want to be authentic, vulnerable, and

loving in my marriage—and if I want to make room for my spouse to be the same—I

have to come into the conversation with a peaceful heart. And sometimes, friends, that

means taking a very necessary time-out.

“Living Water, Lasting Love: Honoring Joanne Smith’s Legacy of Choosing Jesus”

I will always remember the smile on her face and the twinkle in her eye—a radiance of pure joy, softened with a hint of mischief that made you instantly want to know her more. She was the giver of warm, enveloping hugs, and she possessed a quick, spirited wit that revealed just how deeply she understood life, love, and the human heart. Within her lived a depth of compassion and grace unlike almost anyone I have ever known.

I remember the morning I first met my beautiful friend, Joanne Smith, at church. It was an ordinary Sunday, but the moment she greeted me, I felt an extraordinary joy — the unmistakable warmth of encountering a soul both welcoming and wise. In the same breath, I felt something else too: recognition. A quiet certainty that this was a sister I had somehow known all my life.

She loved me instantly. There was no judgment, no hesitation — only encouragement, kindness, and an unwavering belief in the grace and love of God. To be seen by her was to feel gently lifted toward the person God created you to be.

So, as I try to write about the meaning of love, the choice to love, the way love itself is rooted in God, I find my mind continually returning to Joanne’s steadfast example. 1 John 4:6 says, “God is love, and all who live in love live in God. We know how much God loves us, and we have put our trust in his love.” And so the question naturally arises: can a person truly know love if they do not know God? I suppose my heart answers: not fully…

Which has me pondering, what in fact, is love? The dictionary offers worldly definitions it says an intense feeling of deep affection, a great interest or pleasure in something, and a feeling of deep romantic attachment to someone. But I think those descriptions fall painfully short. They describe emotion, not transformation. Preference, but not sacrifice. Comfort, but not redemption. And so my mind drifts back to the unconditional love I received from my friend.

One of the clearest demonstrations of Jesus’ heart appears in John 4, when He meets the Samaritan woman at the well. Jesus breaks social, gender, and religious barriers to encounter an outcast — not by accident, but by choice. He engages her, speaks to her, and offers her an invitation to love that transcends her past, her status, and her shame. When He asks her for a drink, she is stunned that He — a Jewish man — would not only be present in Samaria but would address her at all. And Jesus responds with words that echo through all eternity: “If you only knew the gift God has for you and who you are speaking to, you would ask me, and I would give you living water.” John 4:10.

Jesus sees her — not her mistakes, not her labels, not her limitations. He sees her. And He chooses love. My friend Joanne lived that way too — with intentionality, patience, gentleness, and a quiet courage that always chose compassion first. Love, then, is not simply a feeling. Love is a decision. Love is a verb — an action that calls us to show up again and again with consistency, honesty, and accountability. Love fulfills the promises it makes. Jesus offers living water freely, even though the woman has done nothing to earn it. That is the pattern He sets — a love so complete it defies human explanation. How do we describe a love willing to sacrifice everything for us, to endure an undeserved fate so we could receive a gift we could never earn?

As John 3:16 reminds us: “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son…” Without Jesus, I’m not sure love can ever be fully understood. It is His grace — His boundless, relentless love — that forms the essence of this divine action. And then… I think of my friend.

A warm glow rises in my chest because I know exactly where she is. Joanne is with Jesus now — held in the fullness of the love she reflected so beautifully on this earth. Though she has stepped beyond our world, her spirit, her laughter, her tenderness, and her unwavering faith remain deeply woven into the lives of those she touched. Her decision to love — again and again, without condition — set her apart. Her faith in God shaped the story of her extraordinary life.

So what does it mean to love? To truly love? It means to know God. Because without Him, every earthly definition will always fall short. My friend chose Jesus. She chose love as her daily posture, her offering, her legacy. And because of that choice, she is forever imprinted on my heart. Forever part of my story. Forever a reminder of the kind of love that looks like Jesus.

God Sees the Masterpiece

“No circumstance, person, or difficulty can stop the plans and promises of God.” — David Jeremiah

What does it mean to say that the plans of God are unstoppable? If God is good, and I know He is, why does our daily journey feel so hard? Why do we work so tirelessly to control everything we can?

On this side of eternity, I deeply love Jesus, but I often struggle to reconcile that love with the hardship I face. Fear creeps in, and I want to own my path, self-arranging to make sure things flow smoothly and outcomes match my plans. I grip tightly to every detail, trying to prevent difficulty. But here’s the truth: my fear and my striving provide no real relief.

Have you ever spent so much time trying to control an outcome that you ended up frustrated with the lack of progress? And then, when you finally reached the other side, you looked back and saw the resolution in a way you never could while you were in the trenches?

Friends, when we pause and reflect on the sovereignty of our Father, what makes us think we know better than He does? Why do we fight so hard for the limited outcome we see when we serve a God of infinite possibilities? It’s human nature, the facade of control. Yet the beauty of Jesus is this: the more we let go, the more we realize our utter lack of control. My power is an illusion, and my fear only limits my ability to trust God’s infinite goodness.

As we grow older, we mature as Christians. I don’t think maturity is about gaining wisdom as much as it is about learning to surrender. Experience teaches us that God is always good, even when we can’t see or understand His plans. If love for Jesus is at the base of our hearts, what can fear add? Nothing. True growth comes when we understand this: we need more of Him and less of us.

So what can we do? We can pray. We can lean into Jesus for guidance, peace, and discernment. Picture this: you’re staring at a stained-glass wall and can only see the color right in front of you. But God sees the entire masterpiece. Prayer is the best way we can seek clarity and build trust. Not to control, but to know the heart of our Father and to trust Him. Prayer plants the seed of faith that grows deep roots, connecting us to the One who truly holds control. Not so we can predict what’s coming, but so we can trust that whatever comes is good.

But what about the bad things that happen in this world? Jesus answered that:

“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Friends, God never promised life would be easy. He actually told us the opposite. But here’s the good news: in the midst of every struggle, we can cling to the truth that He has already overcome the hardships of this world. And at the end of it all, if we simply believe and follow Him, an eternity of joy awaits us. When we lean into prayer, release our grip on control, and let God lead, we are planting seeds of faith. Those seeds grow deep roots, and where roots grow, a strong and flourishing tree will surely rise.

Christ at the Center

“A woman’s heart should be so hidden in God that a man has to seek Him just to find her.” — Maya Angelou

“Men, you’ll never be a good groom to your wife unless you’re first a good bride to Jesus.” — Tim Keller

I’ve loved these quotes for years, but I never fully understood their depth until walking through the first years of our marriage.

My husband and I have been married for over seven years now. You might think, That’s not very long. But here’s some perspective: we are remarried. We each came into this marriage with two children and a lot of baggage. Over these years, we’ve faced more trials than I could have imagined including two grueling custody battles, chronic illness, four kids each wrestling with hardship (two battling immense trauma and suicidal thoughts), and the lingering ghosts of past relationships. Honestly, the list could go on. But what matters most is this: in seven years, we’ve walked through valleys deeper than we ever expected.

When you enter marriage, especially remarriage, you see everything through an idealistic lens. You love Jesus, you love each other, and you dream of a perfect new family. It feels like a dream come true. You’ve found “the one” who completes you. And let’s be honest: you can’t imagine real difficulty. But then life happens. The honeymoon fades. For many couples, that shift comes gradually as responsibilities grow bigger jobs, children, bills. For us, the challenges began immediately.

So, back to those quotes. At first, neither of us truly understood them. We loved Jesus and sought His grace. We wanted to show that love to each other and our children. But here’s what we learned: we both had to be so desperate for God that we sought Him first—before anything or anyone else, even each other.

My favorite picture of this is a triangle: God at the top, husband and wife at the bottom corners. As each of us grows closer to Christ through faith, trust, obedience the two of us grow closer together. The Holy Spirit strengthens the bond. Because how else can we, as selfish humans, love as generously and selflessly as Jesus? Marriage is a gift from God, a reflection of His relationship with us. It teaches us to lay down ourselves and put the relationship first. When Christ is at the center, He gives us the capacity to love like Him.

I used to struggle with God’s instructions for marriage not out of resistance, but lack of understanding. Living through hardship and seeking grace only He can give has made those words come alive:

“For wives, this means submit to your husbands as to the Lord. For a husband is the head of his wife as Christ is the head of the church… As the church submits to Christ, so you wives should submit to your husbands in everything. For husbands, this means love your wives, just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her to make her holy and clean, washed by the cleansing of God’s word.”
— Ephesians 5:22-26

Jesus died for us so we could be forgiven. His sacrifice gives us the gift of eternity if we believe. That is a love beyond human comprehension but not beyond our Heavenly Father. The only way to truly grasp God’s plan for marriage is to seek Him first. None of us will ever perfectly mirror Jesus on this earth, but the closest we can come is to pursue Him with all our hearts. In that pursuit, He blesses our marriages with a love only possible when He is at the center.

As C.S. Lewis wrote, “Being in love is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by the grace which both partners ask, and receive, from God.”

Friends, I encourage you: pursue Christ with all your heart and soul. The blessing that brings to your life and your marriage is a gift beyond comprehension.