You Can't Wait Forever

I went to get some lab work done.

When I walked into the building, the sun was shining. Maybe a cloud or two. Nothing major. But by the time I came out?

Pourrrrrring.

I stood there for a second, trying to decide what to do. I could wait. I could play it safe. But I didn’t know how long the storm would last—and I had things to do. So I thought, I might as well get it over with.

A few people standing under the awning looked at me and said,
“You might want to wait… you’re gonna get soaked.”

I nodded. I heard them. And I walked out anyway.
I knew I would get wet.

Let that sit for a second.

There are moments when the safest thing is to wait.
But there are also moments when waiting costs more than moving.

I made a choice: risk the rain or risk standing still.
I chose motion.

And yes—it rained. Hard.
I was soaked to my skin.
So much so, I had to turn the heater on in the car. In June.

I had on slides, so I couldn’t even rush—I had to take slow, careful steps.
By the time I made it to the car, I was drenched.
Hair dripping. Purse strap soaked. Clothes stuck to me.
But I made it.

You know this season is hard.
You’ve been warned.
You’ve even warned yourself.

But deep down, you also know this:
You can’t wait for everything to be clear before you move.

Because some storms are spiritual metaphors,
and some are just part of the route.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you.”
— Isaiah 43:2 (NIV)

God never promised to keep you dry—He promised to keep you covered.

And yes, you may get soaked.
You may cry.
You may question it all mid-step.
But you will not drown.

The enemy wants you to believe that discomfort equals disobedience. That getting wet means you missed God.

But no, sis—sometimes moving forward in faith means walking straight into the storm.
Because what’s on the other side is worth it.

This Week's Reflection:

What are you refusing to do because you’re afraid of getting uncomfortable?

Are you sitting still because you’re scared to look foolish, drenched, or unprepared?
Or are you willing to move anyway—even if the storm hits mid-step?

Drop a comment, and share this with someone who's choosing to walk through anyway—or still waiting for the rain to stop.

We’re on the journey together,