When you do not know what comes next

A new month does not always bring new answers.

The calendar turns. Plans are made. New beginnings are announced. Yet sometimes, despite praying, preparing, working, waiting and trying again, the next step remains unclear.

The door does not open. The answer does not come. There is no definite “no,” but neither is there a clear “yes.”

You are simply waiting.

Perhaps this is one of the most difficult seasons for an ambitious person to navigate: the season of silence.

Rejection, painful as it may be, gives you information. Failure shows you what did not work. A closed door directs you elsewhere.

But silence leaves room for questions:

Should I continue?

Should I let go?

Is this delay, protection or redirection?

Am I meant to wait, or am I meant to move?

And perhaps the hardest question of all:

“Lord, what do You want me to do?”

There are moments when effort alone cannot provide the answer. You can prepare, apply, learn, reach out, knock and do everything you know to do. Then Scripture offers a quiet instruction:

“Having done all, to stand.”

There is strength in standing when you do not know what comes next.

It is okay to want more.

Gratitude is sometimes presented as the opposite of ambition. But gratitude does not require the death of desire.

You can be grateful and still want more.

You can thank God for where you are while believing there is more you are capable of becoming. You can appreciate your present and still hope for your future. You can be content without becoming complacent.

The question is not simply, “Do I want more?”

It is:

“What am I doing with the desire for more?”

There is a difference between wanting recognition and wanting influence; between craving wealth and seeking the capacity to live well, support others, create opportunities and give generously; between ambition that consumes you and ambition surrendered to God.

There is nothing wrong with wanting to learn, build, lead, create, love, grow, contribute and make an impact.

The question is whether we can place those desires before God and say:

“Lord, I want these things…but I trust You with the pathway.”

Sometimes surrender does not mean abandoning the dream. It means releasing our insistence on how, when and where it must happen.

Perhaps we are still learning how God speaks.

We often hear people say, “God told me.” A clear instruction. A vision. A conviction without room for doubt.

Perhaps God speaks that way to some. But what if you are still learning what His voice sounds like to you?

What if you are still learning the difference between desire and direction, between opportunity and assignment, between a delay and a redirection?

There is humility in saying:

“I am still learning.”

I do not want to manufacture certainty where I have none. I do not want to call every convenient circumstance divine instruction or every delay a prophecy.

Sometimes we simply do not know.

Perhaps faith is not always confidence that we understand what God is doing. Perhaps it is confidence that God remains trustworthy even when we do not.

A quieter faith says:

If this is for me, lead me to it.

If it is not, redirect me.

If it is mine but not yet, teach me to wait.

And while I wait, show me what I am meant to do here.

Because there is still something in your hands.

The Parable of the Talents reminds us that our responsibility is not to obsess over what has been given to someone else, but to steward what has been placed in our own hands.

So ask yourself:

What is already in my hands?

You may not know where your career is going, but you can develop your skills. You may not know where your voice will reach, but you can still use it. You may not know the full expression of your calling, but you can cultivate your gifts.

There is a difference between direction and development.

You may not have direction for the entire journey, but there is almost always something to learn, improve, create, strengthen, refine or steward.

Uncertainty can make us feel as though life must pause until we receive an answer. But the absence of a clear destination does not mean there is nothing to do.

Keep becoming.

Not frantically. Not to prove your worth. But because what has been placed within you deserves stewardship.

Do not cover your light because you cannot yet see the room in which it will shine. Do not neglect your gift because you have not discovered its final expression.

An uncertain season does not mean you have no purpose.

There is also nothing wrong with admitting that you are tired.

You can believe and still be tired. You can pray and still have questions. You can trust God and still wish the answer would come sooner.

Sometimes restlessness is not dissatisfaction with God. It is simply the awareness that you have not exhausted your potential.

There is more to learn, give, build, experience and share.

Perhaps the answer is not to silence that desire, but to surrender it properly:

“I will not apologise for wanting more. But I will not make an idol of what I want.”

To desire without demanding.

To pursue without forcing.

To dream without presuming.

To prepare without panicking.

To wait without becoming passive.

To trust without pretending to know.

And what if the answer has not come yet?

Perhaps this season is not asking us to have every answer. Perhaps it is asking us to learn how to stand.

To stand when the application has been submitted and the response has not come.

To stand when the promotion, business growth, relationship or relocation has not yet arrived.

To stand when the vision feels larger than the present reality.

Not because standing means doing nothing, but because sometimes you have done what was yours to do, and the next move is not yours to manufacture.

Not every silence requires another application. Not every delay requires another strategy. Not every unanswered question demands immediate action.

Sometimes we need to sit with God long enough to admit:

“I don’t know.”

I don’t know what comes next.

I don’t know whether this is the path.

I don’t know whether what I hoped for will happen as I imagined.

But I know this:

I am still here.

And as long as I am here, the story is not finished.

So I will keep praying, listening, learning, developing, working, serving and becoming.

I will remain open enough to be redirected and courageous enough to pursue what God places before me.

I will not allow the silence to make me smaller.

Perhaps I do not need to know everything. Perhaps I only need to trust God enough to take the next faithful step when it becomes clear…and enough to wait when it does not.

So, to the person in a season of silence…

To the person who has applied and is still waiting.

To the person who has prayed and is still asking.

To the person who has worked and has not yet seen the fruit.

To the person who knows there is more within them but cannot yet see where it belongs.

To the person wondering whether they missed their moment.

I see you.

You do not have to pretend you do not want the answer. You do not have to feel guilty for desiring a fuller life. You do not have to apologise for ambition or call yourself ungrateful because you know there is more you want to accomplish.

Bring the desire to God.

Bring the disappointment, ambition and uncertainty to God.

Bring the questions too.

Then keep your hands open.

Sometimes faith is standing in the silence and saying:

“Lord, I still trust You.”

And with whatever is already in your hands

keep becoming.

I may not know what comes next, but I know I am not finished.

The silence is real.

The questions are real.

The waiting is real.

But so is God.

And so, for this season, I will stand…not because I know what tomorrow holds, but because I know Who holds tomorrow.

….🪶

Deborah U. Marshall