God can & God will
- Feb 3
- 3 min read
For a long time, my faith sounded like this: God can. God can heal. God can restore. God can move. And while that’s true, I’m realizing it’s time to live with the faith of God will. But that shift hasn’t been easy. Because when you’ve prayed with everything in you before… when you’ve believed for a miracle before… and the outcome wasn’t what you asked for, your faith learns to add disclaimers like… “But You have the final say.” or “But what if I believe You will… and You don’t?”
Five years ago, I prayed with faith believing God would heal my dad. Not casually. Not halfway. With desperation. With hope. With expectation. We believed for a miracle. We prayed like people who trusted God fully. And still, my dad suffered a brain bleed. Still, he was placed on life support. Still, God didn’t heal him the way we begged Him to. And after that, something shifted in me. Without realizing it, my prayers became careful. Guarded. Less expectant and more conditional.
I still went to God…. but my faith lived in a waiting room. Almost like my prayers were on a spiritual waitlist… He’ll get to it if it’s meant to be. Instead of believing that God had already heard me… already moved… already was at work.
I saw this same pattern play out with my daughter. I’ve always known she needed to be screened for reading and dyslexia. I knew it in my gut. But I waited to call the doctor. She’s young. Maybe she’ll grow out of it. Maybe it’s too early. Truthfully? I think part of me had learned to wait before hoping too hard.
When I finally made the call, I got the referral… and then the reality hit. The next available appointment wasn’t until next year. A year felt unbearable when all I wanted were answers. When all I wanted was to see my child rise academically instead of struggle. But because of that waiting season, I had to make hard choices. She was at a great school… but academically, it was crushing her spirit. The expectations were high. The pace was fast. And her confidence was slipping away. So before the specialist appointment ever came, I made a move. I transferred her. And everything changed.
She may still be a little behind, but she is thriving. Her spirit is lighter. Her confidence is growing. She’s happy. She’s encouraged to read. Her face looks different. What once crushed her no longer defines her. And that’s when God gently showed me something. Faith that says God will doesn’t mean we won’t experience loss. It doesn’t mean prayers will always be answered the way we want. I know that deeply… because of my dad. But it does mean trusting that God is still good, still working, still intentional… even when the answer hurts.
There is a process. And the process doesn’t mean God is late. It doesn’t mean He forgot. It doesn’t mean your faith was weak. Sometimes the waiting isn’t God withholding. It’s God redirecting. Protecting. Positioning us for something we couldn’t see yet. My dad’s story didn’t end how I prayed it would. But God didn’t abandon me in that loss. My daughter’s journey didn’t start how I hoped. But God met us in the middle and brought life where I feared defeat.
Faith that says God will doesn’t deny the pain. It just refuses to believe the pain is pointless. And that kind of faith… the kind that trusts God even after disappointment… changes how we wait.
Prayer:
God,I come to You with a heart that has learned how to hope and how to grieve. I confess that sometimes my faith has lived in the waiting room… careful, guarded, afraid to expect too much because I remember what it felt like when the answer hurt. But today, I want to trust You again. Not just that You can… but that You will! That You are working, even when I don’t see it, that You are good, even when the outcome is not what I prayed for. Help me release the need to control the timing. Help me trust You in the process.Teach me to wait with expectation, not resignation. Heal the places in my heart that learned to brace instead of believe. Strengthen my faith… not one that demands outcomes,but one that rests in who You are. I choose to trust You again. In the waiting. In the process. Even when it hurts. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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