The Season I Didn't Choose

Last week, I wrote about not wanting to do it all anymore.

About how my definition of success is changing and how peace, time, health, marriage and family matter differently to me now.

And I meant every word.

But there's another part of this season that I didn't talk about.

I didn't choose all of it.

Some of where I am right now is because I've changed. And some of it is because life changed around me.

That's harder to admit.

There are places I thought I'd be by now. Things I thought would be further along.

Plans that made perfect sense on paper but haven't unfolded the way I expected.

Jermaine and I have worked incredibly hard to build JPix. We've poured years, resources, creativity, long days, late nights and a whole lot of ourselves into this business.

And right now, business is slower than we'd like it to be.

We're not alone.

We talk to other business owners who are feeling it too. We know families who are making different financial decisions. People are being laid off. Businesses are adjusting. Everyone seems to be looking a little more carefully at what they're spending and where.

Knowing we're not alone doesn't necessarily make it easier.

Because when you've worked hard at something, you expect hard work to produce a particular result.

And sometimes it doesn't.

At least not when you expected it to.

Where I am and where I want to be don't match.

That's probably the simplest way I can describe this season.

And I don't particularly like that feeling.

I like plans. I like knowing what we're working toward. I like checking things off and seeing progress.

What I don't like nearly as much is uncertainty.

But lately, I've been thinking about how often we ask God to take us somewhere without considering what it might take to prepare us for being there.

We pray for growth.

We pray for opportunity.

We pray for the next level.

We pray for God to use us.

And then sometimes He answers with a season that looks absolutely nothing like the answer we had in mind.

A closed door.

A slower season.

A change of direction.

A disappointment.

A waiting period.

A situation that forces us to look at ourselves, our priorities, our habits or even our definition of success.

And our first instinct is often:

How quickly can I get out of this?

Mine certainly is.

But I'm beginning to wonder whether I've spent too much time asking God to change my circumstances when sometimes He's using my circumstances to change me.

We can't skip the steps.

That's the part I keep coming back to.

There are things we want God to do through us that may require Him to first do something in us.

And unfortunately, development isn't usually the part we post about.

We like the testimony. Not necessarily the process that creates it.

We like the promotion. Not the preparation.

We like the open door. Not the hallway.

We like becoming. We'd just prefer to skip some of the becoming part.

I know I would.

But when I look back over my life, some of the seasons I would never have selected for myself taught me things that comfort never could.

They showed me what mattered.

They exposed what didn't.

They made me reconsider things I thought I was certain about.

They strengthened my faith.

And sometimes they forced me to release my grip on the version of the future I had already written.

I'm learning that trusting God in difficult seasons isn't only believing that He'll eventually change our circumstances. Sometimes it's trusting that He can use those circumstances to change us.

I'm trying to remember that now.

I'm still in it.

I want to be careful here because I don't want to write this letter from the other side and tie everything up with a pretty bow.

I'm not on the other side.

I can't tell you yet exactly what this season is producing.

I don't have the paragraph where I say, “And then everything worked out even better than we imagined.”

Maybe one day I'll write that letter.

Today isn't that letter.

Today, I'm learning how to trust God while I'm still in the middle of it.

I'm learning that faith isn't only believing God will take me where I want to go. Sometimes faith is trusting that He knows what He's doing with me where I am.

And maybe you're there too.

Maybe where you thought you'd be and where you actually are don't match right now.

Maybe it's your career.

Your business.

Your finances.

Your marriage.

Your family.

Your health.

Your plans.

Maybe you're watching other people move forward while you feel like you're standing still.

I don't know why you're in your particular season.

And I would never pretend that every hardship has a simple explanation.

But I do believe this:

Where we are today doesn't have to be wasted.

Sunday Reflection

I've been asking myself a different question lately.

Instead of only asking:

“God, when are You going to get me out of this?”

I'm also trying to ask:

“God, what are You trying to develop in me while I'm here?”

Patience?

Discipline?

Humility?

Courage?

Wisdom?

Trust?

Maybe even the willingness to let go of something that once fit but doesn't anymore?

I don't know all of my answers yet.

But I'm paying attention.

Because if there's something I'm supposed to learn here, I don't want to be so busy trying to get to the next season that I miss what God is doing in this one.

Until Next Sunday

There is still a gap between where I am and where I want to be.

I'm still praying.

Still working.

Still planning.

Still believing.

I'm not calling disappointment destiny, and I'm not confusing waiting with giving up.

But I'm also learning that I don't get to skip every uncomfortable step just because I know where I want to go.

Some roads develop things in us that shortcuts never could.

So for now, I'm trying not to rush the process.

I'm asking God for the wisdom to know what needs to change, the courage to change it, and the patience to let Him develop the things in me that can't be rushed.

Maybe this isn't the season I would have chosen.

But that doesn't mean nothing is growing here.

Until next Sunday,

Catron Turner
with Jermaine
JPix Studio

Sometimes the season we want to escape is the very season God is using to prepare us for what's next.

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The Season I Didn't Choose

The Season I Didn't Choose

Where I am and where I want to be don't match.

We can't skip the steps.

I'm still in it.

Sunday Reflection

Until Next Sunday

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