Maybe You’re Being Prepared

“You have good plans for me…”

I stood in church Sunday morning singing those words.

And I found myself wondering:

Do I really believe that?

Jeremiah 29:11 has been my favorite verse for years:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Words that were also spoken Sunday morning.

I know that verse. I’ve quoted it. I’ve clung to it. I’ve built parts of my life around believing it.

But lately, I’ve been wondering…

What’s my plan? What’s my purpose? Am I making a difference? What does God want from me? Why doesn’t it feel like He’s using me right now? And do I really believe His plan for my life is good?

That last question goes a little deeper.

Because this isn’t just about purpose.

It’s about my life.

All of it.

The things God is calling me to do, yes. But also the things I deeply desire. The things I pray for. The things I hope are still somewhere in His plan for me.

And lately, I think God has been asking me to surrender not just my plans to Him, but my need to know what His plans are.

That’s harder.

I know God has used me in so many ways over the years. I can look back and see places where He took pieces of my story—the good, the painful, even the messy—and allowed me to use them to encourage someone else.

I’m incredibly grateful for that.

But I also crave more.

I want Him to use me. I want my life to matter. I want to make a difference for His Kingdom. I want to know what He wants me to do next.

And therein lies part of my problem.

I’m a “what’s next?” person.

Stillness does not come naturally to me.

Give me a direction. Give me something to work toward. Give me an idea I can run with.

But when I don’t know what’s next?

That’s harder.

And not just when it comes to purpose.

There are parts of my life where I know what my heart desires. I know what I hope my future looks like. I know the prayers I’ve prayed and the things I’ve asked God for.

And I don’t know if or when those things are coming.

That’s where trusting in His “good plans” gets a little more difficult.

Because it’s one thing to say, “God, I trust Your plan.”

It’s another to say:

“God, I trust Your plan even if I don’t know what it is.”

Even if it takes longer than I want.

Even if this season doesn’t make sense yet.

Even if the future looks different than the picture I’ve created in my own head.

Can I still believe that His plan is good?

I’m learning to say yes.

Not because I suddenly understand what He’s doing.

But because I know who He is.

And maybe that’s what surrender actually looks like.

Somewhere along the way, I think I also started associating being used by God with doing something.

Something visible.

Something meaningful.

Maybe even something big.

And when I’m not doing those things, I can start wondering if He’s doing anything at all.

But what if God’s purpose for a season isn’t always about what He’s doing through me?

What if sometimes it’s about what He’s doing in me?

And what if that preparation isn’t only for some future purpose or calling?

What if He’s preparing me for the things I’m praying for, too?

Maybe there are things He needs to teach me before I’m ready for what comes next.

Maybe there are things I need to heal from.

Maybe there are things I need to let go of.

Maybe there are parts of me He is strengthening, softening, refining or simply teaching to trust Him.

Because preparation doesn’t always look like purpose while we’re in it.

Sometimes preparation looks like waiting.

Sometimes it looks like stillness.

Sometimes it looks like healing.

Sometimes it looks like growth.

And sometimes…it just feels like nothing is happening.

But Sunday morning, as I stood there questioning whether I really believed those words I was singing, another thought came to me:

What’s the alternative?

To believe His Word isn’t true?

To believe that the God who has carried me through everything He already has suddenly doesn’t have a plan now?

To believe that He is good—but somehow His plan for me isn’t?

I have too much evidence to believe that.

When I look backward, I can see His hand in places where I absolutely could not see it at the time.

There have been seasons I didn’t understand until much later.

And then eventually something happens and suddenly you realize:

Oh. I get it now.

You had to put me in that place.

You had to position me there.

You had to teach me that.

You had to let me grow through that.

You had to prepare my heart.

Because You weren’t leaving me there.

You were preparing me.

Maybe that’s where faith comes in.

Not in knowing exactly what God’s plan is, but trusting that He has one.

And trusting that it’s good.

For my purpose.

For my future.

For the desires of my heart.

For the parts of my story that haven’t been written yet.

All of it.

I don’t know what God has planned for me next.

That sentence is harder for a “what’s next?” person to write than you might think.

I don’t know exactly how He wants to use me.

I don’t know what He’s preparing me for.

And I don’t know when some of the things I deeply desire will become part of my story—or exactly what they will look like when they do.

But I do know what He has already done.

I know how He has carried me.

I know how many times I’ve looked backward and realized He was working when I thought He was silent.

And I know His Word says He has plans for me.

So maybe I don’t need to know the plan yet.

Maybe I just need to trust the One who does.

Have I made some choices lately I’m not proud of? Yes.

Have I been the perfect example of Jesus? Nope.

Have I had moments when my faith looked more like questioning than trusting?

Absolutely.

It’s hard being human.

But thankfully, God’s ability to use us—and His love for us—has never depended on our ability to be perfect.

So if you’re in a season where you’re asking:

What am I doing? What’s my purpose? What’s next? When is this thing I’ve been hoping for going to happen? God, are Your plans for me really good?

Maybe the answer isn’t that He has forgotten you.

Maybe you just can’t see what He’s doing yet.

Maybe the quiet isn’t purposeless.

Maybe the stillness isn’t wasted.

Maybe the waiting isn’t punishment.

Maybe you’re not being overlooked.

Maybe you’re being prepared.

For the purpose.

For the next chapter.

For the prayer you haven’t seen answered yet.

Maybe even for something greater than you could have planned for yourself.

Until then, I’m choosing to believe the words I sang Sunday morning:

You have good plans for me.

For all of me.

Even here.

Even in the waiting.

Even before I know what they are.