Trust the God of the Process
Lately, I’ve been in a season that doesn’t photograph well.
The kind where you’re smiling in public but journaling paragraphs at midnight. The kind where God isn’t necessarily changing your surroundings — He’s changing you. And whew… nobody really prepares you for that part.
I used to think I handle growth well and that I would always welcome it with open arms. I thought becoming better would feel like adding something shiny to my life.
Instead, it feels like stripping things away.
Old reactions. Old mindsets. Old habits that once protected me but no longer serve me. It feels like sitting with emotions I used to avoid. It feels like taking accountability without spiraling into shame. It feels like God gently — and sometimes not so gently — saying, “We’re not doing that anymore.”
And can I be honest?
There are days I want quick relief instead of real transformation. I want God to fix the situation without refining my character. I want breakthrough without pruning.
Because pruning doesn’t look pretty. It looks like loss before it looks like growth.
And sometimes the very thing we’re asking God to preserve is the thing He’s trying to gently remove.
The stretching has been uncomfortable. But it’s also been sacred.
Because slowly — almost quietly — the fruit is starting showing up.
Peace that doesn’t depend on who texted back.
Confidence that isn’t loud but deeply rooted.
Patience that doesn’t feel forced.
The fruits described in Galatians make so much more sense when you’ve actually been in the soil.
Love feels deeper when you’ve healed. Self-control feels empowering when you’ve learned discipline. Joy feels sturdier when it’s not tied to outcomes.
Growth isn’t making me sparkle but stable.
And stability? Oh, that’s underrated.
What I’m learning — and what I want to remind you — is that God is not confused about your life. He isn’t behind schedule. He isn’t scrambling to figure things out. If anything, He’s carefully cultivating you for what you prayed for.
The same God who planted the vision is shaping the vessel.
So if you’re in a stretching season, a refining season, a “Lord, why is this so uncomfortable?” season — take heart. This isn’t punishment. It’s preparation. It’s love in a form that doesn’t always feel soft.
From one soft-hearted warrior to another: keep going.
If you’re breaking cycles, that’s holy.
If you’re choosing healing over history, that’s brave.
If you’re learning to respond instead of reacting, that’s growth.
The tears? They’re watering something.
The waiting? It’s building something.
The discomfort? It’s strengthening something.
