The Story of Moses: When God Picks You


This summer, I was fascinated with the story of Moses. Maybe I was fascinated because something that was once so familiar felt fresh, new. I read the pages of Exodus this time completely from the vantage point of Moses himself, pretending—to the best of my ability—that I didn’t know the rest of the story. I tried to imagine what it would be like for Moses to one day realize that he had been rescued as a baby. That his mom is not really his  mom and his people—his family, those he would have lived with, eaten with, worshipped with—were slaves. Every day they are beaten, starved, and forced into hard labor while he lives in the palace. How, even though none of this is his fault, Moses must have felt guilty. He wanted so badly to be there with his people but he didn’t know how to go back in time, how to rejoin his family, how to enter into slavery. So, he decided to do something about the oppression he sees. He killed an Egyptian. Surprised that no applause erupted from his people, and now threatened by Pharaoh, Moses ran away. Moses resolved that he would forever be separated from his people and attempted to build a new life. And while he tried desperately to forget his past, God had not forgotten him!

Reading the account of God calling Moses in Exodus chapter 3 and 4, I shake my head in wonder. A smile slides across my face as I think about the creativity, power, majesty, mystery, and grace the God of Abraham possesses. How absolutely incredible it is that Moses gets to see it, hear it, and feel it firsthand. God has gotten his attention, calling Moses to follow Him. Seeing the affliction of His people, God intends to use Moses to rescue the Israelites from Pharaoh.

(If you haven’t read those chapters in a while, take some time to do so. It’s honestly such a great story, you’ll probably keep reading….just try pretending you don’t know the outcome!)

Throughout these verses, I adore how honest Moses is. Even though the bush is on fire but not drying up, even though God’s voice is clear and powerful yet loving and kind, even though God has answered every question and made Himself known as intimately as Moses’ human mind can comprehend, Moses keeps trying to get out of it. But what should I tell them? But what if they don’t believe me? But what if this sign isn’t enough to convince them? But what if I can’t do it?

And then Moses says, head down, defeat in every word, “Oh, my Lord, please send someone else.” (Exodus 4:13)

Pick someone else.

Have you ever said that to God? Have you ever asked to be disqualified from the race, determined that there was a better choice?

Perhaps Moses was afraid of the same things you and I are. Afraid of failure, afraid to expose our inadequacy, afraid to face uncertain circumstances, even afraid of total submission to the Lord.

Moses didn’t want to face any of these fears, so he asked God to pick someone else.

When God chooses us for a specific role, we tend to respond just like Moses. We first play along, asking God if He’s sure. Begging God to tell us what to do, what to say, how to respond. But still, we want to surrender to defeat before we even start the race. God, just pick someone else.

I know I’ve felt that way. If it was anyone else, I would encourage them to trust God, to give it a try, to step out in faith, and all of those other true, yet cliche things. Even now, I want to read these pages in Exodus and tell Moses that it’s going to be so worth it! That he’ll have victory and that he cannot even imagine what God is going to do in him and through him!

And you know what? The same is true for us. Whatever God is asking us to do, even it’s filled with scary uncertainty, threatens failure, or exposes our weakness, it will be so worth it! We will have victory! We cannot imagine what God will do in us and through us!

God knew everything He was going to ask Moses to do wasn’t about Moses. But God was determined to include him in this journey. He let Moses bring Aaron if that’s what it would take to convince him to come along. God had picked Moses. He wasn’t going to let him miss this!

God wants you and me to simply come along in this journey. It’s not about us proving ourselves. It’s not about us being good enough or qualified enough, strong enough or smart enough. It’s not about us completing the task or just doing the thing God asks us to do. It’s about accepting an invitation to come along in the journey. Because God has some pretty incredible things to show us. He longs to teach us more about Himself. And usually we can’t learn those truths unless we’re on our way—even when, or maybe especially when, the destination is unknown.

So the next time God invites you to follow Him into something difficult, instead of asking Him to pick someone else, take a breath and say, “Okay. Okay, God, I’ll go with you.” You might walk into the very thing you prayed would never happen, the most frightening, most exposing, most uncertain circumstance you could ever imagine. But you are not alone. The very God who invited you to come along is with you every step of the way. He picked you specifically for this journey, so you can believe it will be okay. In fact, He may be patiently waiting to perform a miracle right before your very eyes!

No Good Thing

“No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.” – Psalm 84:11

It was a Monday night when I read these words, several weeks after I learned that Drew and I were pregnant with our first child.

In just a few short weeks we had already loved, prayed for, and dreamed about meeting the little one growing inside of me. I wrote in my Bible next to this verse “what a great promise!” As I thought about what it would be like to feel this baby move inside of me, what it would be like to hold him or her for the first time, what it would be like the first time this precious gift smiled at me, I claimed Psalm 84:11 excitedly. God was surely not withholding anything good from me! Thank you, God for your blessing, for graciously giving me a child for whom I had prayed!

That Wednesday, Drew and I had our first appointment with the doctor. We were eight weeks along and anticipated hearing our little one’s heartbeat. I was lying down, waiting anxiously for the doctor to turn the screen around and show us the ultrasound. Her face remained emotionless as she peered at the screen. I was suddenly aware of how quiet the room was. Shouldn’t we be hearing a beating heart? “I’m sorry,” the doctor began to say. Disappointment washed over me. In the silence of the room, “no good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly” filled my mind. Did I still believe that? How could I believe that?

Two days later, on Friday, my body physically experienced the miscarriage. While I was doubled over, my abdomen cramping in a way I have never felt before, pain searing through my body, blood pouring out of me, “no good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly” replayed in my thoughts almost rhythmically. Like a song I couldn’t get out of my head. Could I claim this verse now? Now that I lost a child? A child I prayed for and longed for? A child that I dreamed of meeting, holding, teaching, loving? This did not seem like a good thing. This felt like a mean trick. This felt more like God snatching a good gift from me. The gift that He had just given me. Why would He give it if He was only going to take it away? My mind reeled with thoughts of accusation, disappointment, confusion. No good thing do you withhold, God? Then what is going on? Through the tears and the pain, I tried to trust that this verse was still mine to claim.


Even in the midst of loss do you still believe that God is not withholding anything good from you? Do you still believe that He is faithful? Do you still believe that He is good and loving and trustworthy?

Can I say yes to those questions? Can I say yes even in the hard times? Even on the hard days?


I have had many tearful conversations with God since the miscarriage. I have poured over God’s Word, the only place I seem to find true peace and hope. The more I read, the more I pray, the more I see that God is good. He is faithful. He loves me and grieves with me. His purposes – although not always clear to me – are good. If you and I can trust Him in the good moments of our life, then we can trust Him in the hard moments also. Because He is unchanging. He never viciously causes harm and heartache for His children. Like Job, we learn to pray, “God gives and takes away but blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:21).

Does this feel impossible sometimes? Yes.

I know you have suffered loss, too. We cannot leave this world without experiencing loss of some kind. The loss of a loved one, the loss of a dream, the loss of a job, the loss of an unborn child. It’s all painful and confusing and unimaginably difficult. But I am walking a road where God is using that loss to draw me closer to Him. This road, while not one I would have chosen for myself, is teaching me about His love, about his faithfulness, about what it looks to trust Him to heal my broken heart and bind up my wounds (Psalm 147:3).


What road of loss have you walked? What parts of God’s character are evident to you because of that journey?


In the midst of it all – the blessings, the answered prayers, the days filled with joy as well as the pain, the disappointments, and the days filled with tears – are you able to believe that God is good? In the midst of it all may we repeatedly believe, “No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.”

The Disillusioned Optimist

I walk towards my laptop that sits patiently on the small writing desk that once belonged to my grandmother. Balancing a plate of freshly roasted zucchini in one hand and my Bible and journal in the other, I sit down at the desk and attempt to set the plate carefully on the small space to the right of my laptop. When the unthinkable happens. The edge of the dinner plate bumps into the plum colored picture frame where my bridesmaids and I are smiling happily at the camera. The picture frame begins to rock backwards bumping my nearly full glass of ice water. I sit there, paralyzed with fear of how this story will end. In slow motion, I watch the frame slide along the desk, I watch my glass of water tilt closer and closer to my laptop. I watch ice cold water sling itself across my keyboard and tumble into a small puddle on the floor. I may or may not have said something that can’t be heard in a G-rated movie. I ran for a towel, wiped down my key board and then did what anyone else would do. Pretend nothing had happened. If I don’t recognize that it’s wet, then it can’t be wet. Like a small child covering his eyes and chanting, “you can’t see me!”

This was Wednesday. On Thursday morning my computer seems to be fine. I am now at the church offices, working diligently when all of the sudden my computer screen goes black. I have to muster up the courage to call our IT department and confess what happened yesterday. Mr. IT is certain that I have shorted the computer and must wait weeks to determine whether or not it’s fixable. And when I hang up the phone, I cry. Not a hard, sobbing cry, just a steady stream of tears that alerts the whole office I’m either A) overly dramatic or B) extremely fond of my computer.

Probably both. Because ALL of the material I have written or taught in the past 5 years is on that computer. And no I haven’t backed it up, and no I didn’t set my computer immediately on rice, and no I didn’t power off the machine, or put a lid on my glass of water, or any of the things that responsible adults who own electronics do.

So I’m crying and laughing and praying and saying absurd things like, “this is the worst” and “I’m not gonna make it if my computer doesn’t.” And so my boss brings me a piece of chocolate.

“I’m on a cleanse,” I say. Because it’s sort of true.

“Don’t tell your husband,” he says. Because duh. If he doesn’t know, then it never happened.

This is the beginning of my disillusionment.

After work I go to the grocery store because you have to go grocery shopping when you’re on a cleanse and can’t eat the things that are staring at you from your pantry. As I reach for a cart (a buggy? I’m pretty sure I called it a buggy growing up) I think maybe this time my cart will be quiet. But guess what…it’s NOT! It never is. Like never. I think I have been cursed because I can never go to the grocery store and not pick out a cart with a janky wheel. It’s proven to be literally impossible for me. Even when I choose the double tiered small ones. Janky wheel. I think those janky wheels are designed for people who shop-lift because it announces your presence at EVERY point in the store. The wheel is clattering and clanking along while you’re choosing sweet potatoes. Then alerting the entire store that you’re headed to Dairy. Those wheels are squeaking and squealing, not allowing you to be discreet when you turn towards the chip aisle. And since the whole store probably knows that you’re on a “cleanse” the guilt causes you to turn around and pick out more veggies. It’s the worst. But at least this is the most annoying thing (after the whole computer thing) that I will experience today.

And so continues my disillusionment.

Once I get home, I’m in desperate need of breathing normally and releasing the tension in my lower back from the drama with the wheels at the grocery store. I determine that a few sun salutations will help me feel relaxed and limber. While I’m hanging out in a down-ward facing dog do you know what I see? DOG HAIR. Everywhere. We have semi-dark floors (praise the Lord!) so I don’t always notice it, but this dog sheds like it’s his job! I didn’t realize the whole shedding thing was going to be this big of a problem. When Finn was a puppy, he didn’t shed that much, so I genuinely believed that we would have a prized black Labrador that didn’t shed.

So I start vacuuming the living room, dining room, and kitchen and that shedding genius of an animal is following me. Following me! I vacuum an area that HE has made hairy and he walks right through it. I’m sure just leaving behind a few locks in his wake. I have now decided that constant shedding is way worse than janky wheels on a grocery store cart, but not as bad as ruining your laptop. It was clearly a rough Thursday.

Here’s the thing about being an optimist: things that shouldn’t upset you or frustrate you often do because you aren’t expecting them. Situations that go wrong feel harder to manage when you anticipate things will always work out. Optimism can seem awfully close to disillusionment. But I’ve decided it’s still okay. It’s okay to imagine things turning out the way you planned. It’s okay to anticipate a water-damaged computer to begin working again, or a grocery cart that will be silent, or a lab that won’t shed (that much). In a small way these things teach us to hope for the unexpected, to look for the good, and to see the glass as half-full. It just might be better next time if that glass has a lid.

So keep dreaming and believing and remaining optimistic because my computer was, in fact, salvageable and all of my documents recovered! That piece of chocolate sat on my desk for 2 days until it was eaten by a co-worker! And while I’m still working on the wheel thing, I’ve come to peace with the fact that the vacuum cleaner will be a permanent fixture in our living room. I mean he’s worth it, right?





Count it all joy my brothers when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing…. Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him. – James 1:2-4 & 12

I want to be steady. I so admire the people in my life that are steady in the midst of trial. There are many around us who are walking impossible roads, dealing with pain and uncertainty that simply breaks my heart. Yet, they are still filled with joy, filled with love, and a devotion to God that I strive for. There are others whom you would never know are facing a trial because of their consistency, confidence, and selflessness. Who are those people in your life, the ones you would describe as “steady”?

Webster tells us that to be steadfast is to be “resolutely or dutifully firm and unwavering”. If someone or something is steady we are saying they are “firmly fixed, supported, or balanced; not shaking or moving”. Don’t you want to be described in that way?

Balanced and poised instead of frantic.

Confident instead of fearful and uncertain.





It’s easy to be that person when things are falling into place, when your schedule is never interrupted, when your house is happy. But this verse tells us that the goal is to remain “resolutely firm and unwavering” throughout a trial. I decided a while ago that I was going to stop praying for patience because instead of just instantly becoming a patient person, I would have countless opportunities to display patience. And I usually missed the mark. Unfortunately, the same thing is true in this case.

In order for you and I to learn how to be steady in the midst of crazy, the trial is inevitable. And apparently, it’s necessary.

Our trials will come in many different forms and fashions. Our faith will be tested in a way that God sees fit, as an opportunity to draw us closer to Him and even draw others closer to Him. But guess what God doesn’t do? He doesn’t look at your trial and roll His heavenly eyes when you struggle because someone else’s trial is SIGNIFANTLY harder than yours. He doesn’t look at me and say, “Geez, Callie, I threw you a bone here, why is this so hard for you?” (Can we take a second to PRAISE HIM for being way more gracious to you and I than we are to ourselves?)

God knows exactly what trial, what test, you and I need in order to produce steadfastness. He wants us to be steady. But here’s the deal—He doesn’t want you to learn how to be confident in yourself. He doesn’t want you to be resolute in your own understanding. Or to be unwavering simply because you’ve learned how to stand tall and strong on your own. It is a testing of our faith that produces steadfastness. We are learning how to rely fully on our Lord so that we are steady in, and through, Him and Him alone.

I cannot get this passage in James out of my head. Nearly every situation I’ve faced in the last few weeks points back to this: to counting the mishaps that occur, the frustrations that arise, the misunderstandings, the weariness, and the uncertainties as JOY because they are my trials right now. Each trial, every test, just happens to be an opportunity to lean into my Savior and learn to remain steady.

What is your trial? What test are you facing today?

It is your opportunity to stay balanced on God’s Word when you’re world feels chaotic.

It is your opportunity to be confident that the God who called you to this uncertain moment will not leave you alone.

It is your opportunity to stand firm when giving up, or giving in, would be easier.

It is your opportunity to be resolute that God will give you victory in this battle.

But how? How do we remain steadfast in the midst of trials? Sometimes it just feels nearly impossible, doesn’t it? God simply asks that we face the test in front of us. We get out of bed every day, we keep walking, we keep praying. We keep looking up and leaning into our Savior. We persevere until one day, the test is over and we realized how much stronger we are, how much more we look like Jesus.

Let’s be steady today. God, teach us to rely on you as you establish steadfastness in our life so that when steadfastness has its full effect, we may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.


Freebie: the song that inspired me to turn to James in the first place. Enjoy!  

Your Story Isn’t Finished Yet

a letter to anyone who feels like giving up


Dear Friend,

Have you ever been watching a fantastic movie that has completely sucked you in? It’s funny and charming, intriguing and suspenseful. And suddenly it stops. Netflix goes haywire and just as the movie’s thickening plot starts to unravel your computer screen turns black. What was going to happen next? We were just getting to the good part! The movie wasn’t over yet. It ended before we could discover whether or not everyone lives happily ever after.

That’s what it would be like if you walked away during this season of your life. You would miss out on your happily ever after, on the good part. And we would miss out on discovering it with you.

That’s what we do as friends. We help one another; we wait with one another; we walk with one another as we discover whatever is around this corner.

But we’ll never know if you decide to stop walking.

Please don’t decide to stop walking.

We need you to discover your gift, to write your story, to sing your song, to paint your picture, to live your life.

We know it’s not easy. In fact, it’s extremely confusing. It’s annoyingly difficult, this challenge ahead of you. If we could walk it for you, we would. But we can’t. You have to lead the way. Still, we’re here with you; cheering you on, urging you forward, praying you see. Praying you see your Creator, the Author of your story. Praying you trust that He knows what’s next and it’s so good He can hardly wait for you to get there! Praying you rely on His strength and His truth to help you take the next step when you want so badly to give up and turn around.

Please don’t turn around.

This is not the end of your journey. You story isn’t finished yet. Don’t deprive us of your gift. Don’t deny the Author of your life the opportunity to show you what comes next. The stories with the toughest start always have the best endings! So if writing that story or singing that song or painting that picture—if auditioning, studying, leaving, or returning—if living your life is so painfully hard, get ready! Because the best is yet to come! Your story isn’t finished yet.

Don’t you want to see what happens next?

“Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.” – Hebrews 12:1-3

When You Have Nothing Left

“I remember the power of God is in me; therefore the power of God is accessible to me. I just have to put my heart in a position to tap into it.”

I read these two sentences in Lysa TerKeurst’s book, Unglued, and my mind reeled. How could I forget this? How could I lose sight of the incredible truth that the power of God is in me? The power that created the world by a simple command. The power that parted the Red Sea and saved millions of people. The power that dropped manna from heaven. The power that rescued 3 men from a fiery furnace and shut the lion’s mouth. The power that healed countless hurting people. The power that calmed the storms and fed 5,000 men with a handful of bread and fish.

The power that raised people from the dead is in me.



Y’all, I just cannot get over this! Two weeks ago I read this truth in the middle of a chapter in the middle of my living room in the middle of a very busy week. And I cannot stop thinking about it. I don’t think God has rattled the same thing over and over again in my mind in a long time. Or maybe I just haven’t been paying attention very well.

For about a year, God and I have been having lots of conversations about surrender and how I’m not very good at it. I like to take control. But I had just been so tired and anxious and frustrated because I had reached the end of myself. I felt like a basket-case emotionally (which is probably why I picked up a book entitled, Unglued, about how to manage your emotions). Do you ever feel this way? I began noticing my shortcomings and inadequacies as if someone had taken a giant yellow highlighter to those places in my life. I had been relying on myself for so long and kept coming up short. I hated it. But what options did I have? Keep working. Keep trying. Keep going.

But I am not alone in this struggle. And neither are you. In some of Jesus’ last conversations with his disciples, He longed for them to understand this just as He longs for us to understand. “But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.” – John 14:26-27

I know this truth; I’ve heard it 100 times. But I don’t always act like it. I forget that I have the Holy Spirit, God HIMSELF, living in me every day. I forget that he’s not just here to convict, while he certainly (and often) does. He is here to give us access to God’s power.

Power to love those who are currently driving us crazy.

Power to be joyful despite the unsettling circumstances swirling around us.

Power to experience peace even though our mind poses questions we just can’t answer.

Power to be patient when we want to take control.

Power to show kindness even when kindness is not shown to us.

Power to do good even when it’s inconvenient.

Power to respond with gentleness instead of snapping in irritation.

Power to exert self-control even when it’s easier to give in.

Why? Because we can. Because God is with us! We can access His power to be and do all of the things we can’t be and do on our own.

I think that’s why all of those bolded words are called Fruits of the Spirit. Those qualities, those responses, are only possible when they are born out of our reliance on the Holy Spirit. God in us produces those things. We will never produce them on our own. But oh how I have tried!

That quote by Lysa, that truth from God’s Word, so encourages me. It’s a gentle reminder that we don’t have to keep trying and failing. We don’t have to take a highlighter to our life and point out all of the areas we’re lacking. We just take ourselves and our needy heart to the Father—the One who sent us a Savior and a Helper. We put our heart in a position of humility and readily receive the power of God that has been in us all along. Then we get a front row seat to see what He can do!

Applying this truth is not always easy, but we have to try. Realize the power of God is in you and is accessible to you. Tap into it today!



What do you do with your dreams?

We all have dreams. Something we long to do, see, accomplish, or become. Maybe it’s more of an aspiration; maybe it’s a full-fledged longing. Yet often those dreams seem too far out of reach. We deem them impossible before we ever set out a plan to accomplish them. Or, tired of trying and failing, we become irritated and discouraged by the plateau we can never escape. So what do we do? We set our dreams on a shelf.

What dream have you placed on a shelf? Did you set it up there yesterday? Or has been collecting dust over years of neglect?

If you’re recalling that dream right now, no matter how distant it is, I would say it still very much matters to you. It’s nearly impossible to let go of our dreams, or maybe our dreams don’t let go of us. Whatever the case, it’s time to take it off the shelf, make a plan, and get to work.

And that’s the sucky part.

On Saturday I determined to refinish the coffee table I bought a year ago on a virtual garage sale with the intention of refinishing. A year ago. I’ve looked at that coffee table 1,000 times in the last 365+ days and came up with excuse after excuse about how I didn’t have the time, energy, patience, or materials to refinish that table. Until Saturday. I realized that everyone else on Instagram seems to refinish furniture on Saturday and it was about time I do too.

It’s a beautiful, breezy, Saturday, birds chirping, our new puppy lazily catching both rays of sunshine and taunting mosquito hawks. I put on my mask, get out the sander, and go to town! Only sanding is the worst. I realize after sanding the top of the table that there’s a lot more of the table to sand. 4 sides! And 4 legs with 4 sides apiece! I question whether or not it’s worth it. There are so many other things I could do that don’t cause my hand to go numb and saw dust threatening to choke out everyone in the neighborhood.

sanded table
So this is my table. Top sanded…look how much I have left do to do! (Maybe I’m a baby. It felt like a whole lot more in the moment!)

I think about how easily Chip and Joanna Gaines remodel an entire house in one hour and it’s going to take me at least three to finish sanding this stupid thing. How in the world does Clint Harper make GIANT tables for her and still be her friend? I resolve that I’m never refinishing another piece of furniture again.

Because accomplishing something is hard. It takes work. It takes time. Refinishing a table requires hard work and so does accomplishing that dream of yours. In a world where people get famous by accident and it seems their wildest dreams come true with one post, it’s easy to get discouraged. But if that discouragement leads us to put our dream away, we will never know what could happen with it! Our longing will never be satisfied if we don’t put in the work required. We have to commit to the discipline, the dedication, and the stuff that will never be applauded or recognized. We just have to.

So I keep sanding and sanding and sanding. Trying to console the puppy that hates loud noises and sits by the back door looking at me with those sad puppy-dog eyes, begging me to let him inside. But we don’t know each other that well yet, and what I do know of this sweet pup is that he can’t be trusted in the house unsupervised. So he and I must both endure the awful process of sanding.

And guess what? Eventually, it’s done. The sanding is over. The hard work has been put in; the finished product can be visualized. This is the fun part. No more lame sanding. Now I can relax a little and enjoy the simplicity of painting. I grab the primer and settle into a rhythm. I have grand plans of painting this table an antique white and distressing the edges. But you can’t do all of that right away. Once the primer goes on, you have to wait. Once that dries you can paint, but then you have to wait before you can sand it or add another coat. Waiting is almost worse than sanding.

primed table
This is my primed table. Also, I thought I might have killed the dog because he ate some of the primer :/ and look what it’s called?! (It’s okay. He’s fine now!)

When we get a glimpse of what could be, when we see our dreams begin to take shape, or we come up with a plan that helps us reach our goals, there’s still a process that must take place. We often have to wait. This time of waiting does not mean we throw in the towel. Waiting doesn’t mean that our dreams won’t become our reality. It just means not now.

I believe waiting can mean one of two things:

  1. It’s not time yet for this dream to come to fruition.
  2. Your dream for you & God’s dream for you are not the same.

If option 2 is the case, then you need more time for God to shift your heart so that your dream and His dream are the same.

If option 1 is the case, that’s okay! Keep pressing on.

Regardless, we respond in the same way. We keep working hard; we keep waiting, trusting that God will lead us, believing that the dreams He’s placed in our hearts have purpose. So your take your dream off the shelf. Let’s see what happens!

What dream have you ignored? What are you challenged to do with your dreams?