Lately, I’ve been noticing how uncomfortable it feels to be between versions of yourself.
Not who you used to be.
Not quite who you’re becoming.
Just … here.
This in-between space doesn’t come with clear language or tidy timelines. No announcement says, “Congratulations, you’ve officially outgrown this season!” No burning bush. No audible voice. Just a quiet, persistent sense that God is doing something, even if He hasn’t explained it yet.
Instead, it shows up through restlessness. Prayers sound different from how they used to. There is a subtle awareness that what once fit now feels a little too tight. Like Saul’s armor on David—heavy, restrictive, and not meant for what’s ahead.
For a long time, I thought that feeling meant something was wrong. That I was behind. That I needed to hurry up and figure things out. Now I’m starting to think it might mean the opposite.
Scripture is full of in-between seasons. Moses tending sheep. David waiting between anointing and kingship. The disciples sitting in the upper room were promised power but told to wait. Growth in God’s divine plan rarely looks rushed or efficient. Often, it looks like waiting without a full explanation.
Most of the time, growth feels like uncertainty. Like pausing. Like standing still long enough to realize that your old answers don’t work anymore. The new ones haven’t been revealed yet. And honestly? That can be terrifying.
We live in a world that rewards clarity. People want quick testimonies and clean timelines. They are curious about what God is doing. They want to know where you’re headed and how it all turns out. Preferably, they want it in a neat paragraph.
But faith doesn’t always move in straight lines. Sometimes God leads us in circles, not to confuse us, but to deepen us. Sometimes He asks us to trust Him without handing us the next step in advance.
I’m learning that this in-between season is sacred ground.
It’s where God gently removes what was built out of fear or performance.
It’s where He exposes expectations that were never His to begin with.
It’s where He teaches us to listen rather than strive.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy. There are days when I pray for clarity and instead receive silence. Days when I want direction and feel invited into stillness. Days when I wonder if I should be doing more, when perhaps God is asking me to notice more.
But I’m beginning to see that not every season is about action. Some seasons are about alignment.
Alignment with God’s voice.
Alignment with His timing.
Alignment with who He’s shaping us to become.
That kind of awareness doesn’t always look productive. Sometimes it looks like resting when the world says rush. Sometimes it looks like trusting God’s work underground, where no one sees growth happening yet.
If you’re in this place, feeling unsure, unsettled, or unfinished, hear this: you are not behind. You are not failing. God doesn’t rush what He is refining.
You don’t owe the world a fully formed version of yourself. You owe God quiet obedience. You owe yourself patience while He finishes His work.
Wait on the LORD; Be of good courage, And He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the LORD!” (Psalm 27:14)
So if today feels slow or unclear, let it be. The same God who called you is still the same God with you in the waiting. Trust that He is forming something majestic beneath the surface, even if you can’t name it yet.
This isn’t a pause in your life. It is your life:
Held.
Guided.
Sustained by God.
And it’s allowed to be unfinished.
Remember: Stillness is not the absence of movement—it is the presence of trust.
Running in Heels: A Memoir of Grit and Grace is available on Amazon. It is perfect for readers walking through their own in-between seasons.
From Heart to Heritage
Reflections From the Heart 