I didn’t know it then, but I was sprinting through life, chasing meetings, chasing purpose, chasing the next “yes”… while somehow still feeling like I was always a few steps behind…
Until one day, somewhere between a cancelled flight and a painfully long layover, God leaned in, gently, firmly and said something that stopped me cold:
“You’re moving fast, but not forward.”
That sentence? It arrested me. It felt like He had placed a mirror in my path and in it, I saw a woman who had mastered motion, but not momentum. I saw someone who had confused movement for meaning.
My name, Nkiruka, means “forward ever, backward never.” Or in another dialect: “My future is great.” And for as long as I can remember, I’ve worn that name like a prophecy, pushing ahead with every ounce of strength I had, never questioning the pace, never pausing to ask, “Am I full… or just busy?”
But that divine whisper on a delayed journey began to teach me about timing, “God’s Timing”. And let me just say, he is not in a hurry. Never has been. Never will be.
Unlike me.
See, I had believed purpose meant progress. That doing a lot meant doing it right. But God began to show me that divine assignments don’t come with countdown clocks. They come with character tests. With pruning seasons. With stillness. And yes, with waiting rooms.
Sometimes, God leaves you in a season long after your calendar says it’s time to move on, not because He’s forgotten you, but because He’s still working in you. Still maturing you. Still strengthening your roots for the weight of the fruit that’s ahead.
James said it better than I ever could:
“Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:2- 4)
We don’t talk enough about this, about how waiting can feel like a punishment when it’s really preparation. About how patience isn’t just a virtue, but a weapon. A posture of trust. A declaration that says, “God, I won’t outrun You. I’ll walk with you, even if you take the long way around.”
So here I am, unlearning hurry. Choosing to find joy in the slow build. Letting each season finish its work in me, however long it takes, so I’m not just doing the God work, but becoming the God woman for the next chapter.
And I thought of you.
Maybe this is your reminder too.
To breathe.
To pause.
To stop fighting the season you’re in and start asking what it’s here to teach you.
To believe again that God isn’t withholding. He’s preparing.
The future is still great, yes. But today? This very moment? It’s holy ground too.
So, dear friend, if this stirred something in you, write back. I’d love to hear what your heart whispered in return.
I’m cheering for you from the slow lane.
It’s quiet here, but goodness, it’s full of God.
With love,
Nkiruka