By Stephanie Egeolu (G)
As I write this, I’m currently sitting at the balcony of my father’s house, overlooking the plantations directly facing me and hoping for plantain season to come quickly.
I’m a writer, and no matter how many times I say it, I’m still struck with a bolt of imposter syndrome—which isn’t made easier by the fact that I’ve been unemployed for about 5 months.
If I’m being honest, it’s been a rough ride. I’ve lost count of the number of applications I’ve sent out (not really, I count them in my inbox every morning whilst feeling sorry for myself), the number of sites I’ve signed up to in the hopes of securing an interview, and the number of times I’ve refreshed my mail.
And yet, what do I get for all my effort? Silence. Loud, hope-destructive silence.
Believe it or not I’ve even wrestled with God about it. I have persevered, prayed, wept, praised, etc. I’ve even given Him the silent treatment.
Every morning, my subconscious selects from a catalogue of emotions, and whichever one it picks at random determines my mood for the day and it’s how I’ve been surviving for the past few months.
Until now.
I opened my Bible to a random page and told myself that whatever I read is God speaking to me (don’t side-eye me, I know you’ve done this at least once before).
Anyway, the passage happened to be one that had no correlation with what I was feeling at the moment.
Then the strangest thing happened.
In the process of trying to shut my Bible, my eyes caught on a verse I’d highlighted:
Numbers 23:19.
For a minute, I couldn’t do anything but stare. It wasn’t a feeling I was sure: He was directly speaking to me.
(Side note, this has happened to me a couple of times before and for some reason I still fall back into self pity)
I thought back to all the obstacles I’ve ever had. The trials that felt impossible, insurmountable to me. And I was right: they are futile for me to get through, but not for God.
My problem, and I’m guessing yours too, is that we forget that we aren’t doing life alone.
Whenever we encounter difficulties, we shift our focus from Him. We cry and wail about how big our problems are, that we seem to forget that God is bigger.
This verse calmed me, gave me hope, and convicted me all at once.
I’m still in my waiting season, and I know this isn’t the end. I’ll still fall back into doubt, I’ll still second-guess myself and God, I’ll still forget whose image I’m made in.
If you somehow see yourself here, I want to remind you that God doesn’t change His mind on a whim. He has made up His mind about you, and no matter how much you doubt yourself, He is sure of you.
He didn’t bring you this far just to leave you here.
So, if you’re in your season of waiting—for whatever it is —I want you to know that every successful person that currently has what you hope for has passed through this.
You can’t rush it, so I’ll advise you to do just one thing: Wait on the Lord.
