There are some people God sends into your life who do more than keep you company.
They help you become.
They arrive in seasons when something in you is still fragile, still unnamed, still trying to gather courage. And somehow, by the way they show up, they make room for what God is building in you to breathe.
Lately, I have been thinking about those kinds of people.
The friends who became midwives to my purpose.
The women who saw possibility before I had language for it. The ones who believed there was something worth nurturing, even when I was uncertain, afraid, or too tired to hold the vision properly myself. The people who made introductions, opened doors, said my name in rooms I had never entered, encouraged me to apply, to try, to show up, to stop shrinking, to stop talking myself out of things God may very well have been calling me into.
I think we talk a lot about purpose as though it is always discovered in solitude. As though destiny is something you wrestle out alone with God in private and then emerge carrying fully formed.
And yes, there are parts of calling that are deeply personal. There are prayers nobody can pray for you. There are wrestlings nobody else can do on your behalf. There are seasons where God meets you in private and says things to your heart that no one else can interpret for you.
But I have also learned that purpose is often carried forward in community.
Sometimes God answers your prayer for clarity by sending a person.
A person who notices the gift before you are confident enough to use it.
A person who calls something out of you with their encouragement.
A person who lends their faith to you in a season when yours feels weak.
A person who keeps saying, “I think you should go for it,” until one day you finally do.
When I look back at different parts of my life, I can trace moments where I was standing at the edge of something new and did not fully believe I had what it would take. I can remember opportunities I might have dismissed, rooms I may have talked myself out of entering, ideas I might have left in my journal, if not for the people God used to steady me.
Some of them offered words.
Some offered access.
Some offered practical help.
Some offered the kind of encouragement that quietly rearranges your courage.
And that matters.
Because becoming is rarely as glamorous as it sounds.
Sometimes it looks like uncertainty.
Sometimes it looks like trying again after disappointment.
Sometimes it looks like carrying a dream that has not yet become visible enough for other people to understand.
And in those seasons, the presence of one person who says, “I see what God may be doing here,” can make all the difference.
I think of Elizabeth and Mary.
When Mary received the word about Jesus, she was carrying something sacred, life-changing, and costly. It was the kind of news that could leave a young woman feeling overwhelmed by the weight of what had been entrusted to her. And one of the first places she went was to Elizabeth.
I have always found that part of the story tender.
Because Elizabeth did not meet Mary with suspicion. She met her with recognition.
“With a loud voice she exclaimed: ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the child you will bear!’” — Luke 1:42
There is something beautiful about being met by someone who can recognize the hand of God on your life, even while you are still learning how to carry it.
Elizabeth could not carry Mary’s assignment for her. But she could affirm what God was doing. She could create a space where Mary did not have to explain the miracle before it had fully unfolded. She could honour what heaven had already spoken.
I think that is one of the gifts of godly friendship.
To be seen while you are still becoming.
To be encouraged before the evidence is obvious.
To be reminded of what God said when fear starts speaking louder.
And if I am honest, I know what it is to need that kind of reminding.
I know what it is to stand too close to my own doubts. To question whether I am ready, whether I am qualified, whether what I am carrying is even worth taking seriously. I know what it is to underestimate what God is doing because I can still see all the gaps in me.
But I also know what it is to be helped by people who refused to let fear have the final word.
People who saw a gift and treated it with seriousness.
People who made room for me at their table.
People who used their voice to strengthen mine.
People who, in one way or another, helped me take the leap.
When I think about them, gratitude feels too small a word.
Because sometimes the reason we are able to keep going is not simply because we are strong. Sometimes it is because someone else held hope with us until we could hold it on our own again.
That is why I believe we should never underestimate the ministry of encouragement.
Not the shallow kind that says nice things for the sake of saying them. I mean the kind that discerns. The kind that pays attention. The kind that sees what God is doing in a person and responds with care. The kind that says, “I do not think this gift in you should be buried.” The kind that opens a door, shares an opportunity, sends a message, offers a recommendation, prays, follows up, checks in, reminds, and sometimes gently pushes.
Scripture says, “Therefore encourage one another and build one another up…” — 1 Thessalonians 5:11
I do not think that verse is only about comfort in hard times. I think it also speaks to the sacred responsibility of helping one another grow well. Of strengthening what is weak. Of speaking life where fear has made a home. Of helping the people around us walk more boldly in what God has placed inside them.
Maybe that is one of the ways purpose is nurtured.
Not in isolation alone, but in the presence of people who know how to honour possibility.
People who can sit with the unfinished version of you and still treat your becoming with reverence.
People who do not rush the process, but do not despise it either.
And maybe this is also an invitation to ask what kind of friend we are becoming.
Are we paying enough attention to the people around us to notice what God may be growing in them?
Do we know how to encourage with sincerity?
Do we know how to use our words to strengthen rather than diminish?
Do we know how to become safe places for other people’s becoming?
Because sometimes you are the one being helped.
And sometimes you are the one being entrusted with someone else’s courage.
Reflection Prompt:
Who believed in you in a season when you were still learning how to believe in yourself?
Who helped you take a leap?
Reach out to them this week. Say thank you. Tell them what their presence meant. You may never fully know how God used them, but gratitude is still a beautiful place to begin.
Praying that God keeps surrounding you with people who recognize the weight of what you carry and treat it with care.
And I pray you become that person too.
Love,
Nkiruka