08/01/2026
♥️
God’s timing, not mine. God’s plan, not mine. Those words sound simple, but they carry a depth that only experience can teach. They are easy to say when life is moving smoothly, when prayers feel answered quickly, and when things unfold the way you hoped. But they take on real meaning in seasons of waiting, uncertainty, and surrender — when letting go feels harder than holding on.
My timing is shaped by urgency. I want answers now, clarity now, relief now. I measure progress by speed and success by visible results. I grow restless when things take longer than expected and anxious when outcomes remain unclear. But God’s timing is not rushed, pressured, or reactive. It is intentional, precise, and rooted in wisdom I cannot always see.
God’s timing considers more than my comfort. It accounts for growth, readiness, protection, and purpose. What feels late to me is often right on time in His hands. He knows what needs to develop in me before the answer arrives. He knows what doors must open or close in the background. He knows what I’m not yet prepared to carry, even if I think I am.
God’s plan, not mine, is even harder to accept. My plans are shaped by limited vision. I plan based on what I know, what I want, and what feels safe. I imagine outcomes that make sense to me and paths that feel familiar. But God’s plan is formed from eternity. He sees the full picture — not just where I am now, but where I’m going and who I’m becoming along the way.
Sometimes God’s plan disrupts mine. It redirects me, delays me, or dismantles ideas I was attached to. That disruption can feel like loss at first. It can feel confusing, disappointing, or even painful. But often, what feels like interruption is actually protection. What feels like denial is actually redirection. God is not trying to take something from me — He is trying to give me something better suited for my future.
Surrendering to God’s timing and plan requires trust. It means releasing control and resisting the urge to force outcomes. It means choosing obedience over understanding and faith over certainty. It means believing that God is good even when the path doesn’t make sense yet.
There are seasons when waiting stretches faith thin. When silence feels loud and progress feels slow. In those moments, I’m reminded that God is still working, even when I can’t see it. He is building foundations beneath the surface. He is strengthening my character, refining my desires, and aligning circumstances in ways I may never fully understand.
God’s plan often unfolds differently than expected, but it never unfolds carelessly. Every step has purpose. Every pause has meaning. Every delay serves a role. When I look back, I can see how God’s plan protected me from choices I would have made too quickly and outcomes I wasn’t ready for.
Trusting God’s timing doesn’t mean I stop dreaming or planning. It means I hold those plans with open hands. It means I invite God to lead instead of asking Him to follow my agenda. It means I remain flexible, teachable, and willing to move when He moves — even if it’s not when or how I expected.
God’s timing teaches patience. God’s plan teaches humility. Together, they teach dependence. They remind me that my life is not a solo project — it is a partnership rooted in trust.
So I choose to say it again, not as resignation, but as faith: God’s timing, not mine. God’s plan, not mine. Because His timing is wiser than my urgency, and His plan is greater than my imagination. And trusting that is where true peace begins.
