If you know someone with ADD or ADHD, you know
that it isn't that they don't like plans. They
actually love them. They usually have about a
dozen of them, maybe more, spinning, evolving,
and being reimagined at any given moment. I know
that because I fit that stereotype perfectly.
I love the structure of a new system. I love
the surge of vision that makes you feel like
you can conquer the world by lunchtime. And then,
by about 1 .30, You're standing in the kitchen
trying to remember why you walked in there while
also mentally redesigning your garage and wondering
if you should finally learn Greek. There is a
lot happening up here. But here's the honest
truth. My perseverance is usually fueled by achievement.
I like to see the dial move. I love the burst
of dopamine that comes with checking a box and
seeing that what I'm doing is actually working.
When you see results, staying the course feels
like a win. But when the achievement is absent,
when you're doing the work, praying the prayers,
and making the sacrifices, but the dial doesn't
move an inch, perseverance gets really heavy.
It feels less like a journey and more like a
treadmill. A very spiritual treadmill, sure.
But you're still staring at the same wall. That's
where I hit a wall. Natural grit eventually runs
out, and that's where I need the Spirit to step
in. Because left to myself, I will turn a season
of waiting into a season of failure. I assume
that if I can't see movement, I must be doing
something wrong. And then I try to redesign it
all like we talked about earlier. But we need
the Spirit to remind our restless hearts that
God's timing is not a performance review. We're
failing. I've been sitting in that tension lately.
I have plans. Good, holy things, I believe, could
honor God and bless our boys. But I'm realizing
that my deadline is often just a demand for clarity,
and if I'm honest, a demand for control. I'd
gladly accept a color -coded Google Calendar
invite from the Lord explaining the next 10 years.
Hey Cody, this is a hard season. It's going to
last 7 months, but don't panic. Also, buy more
coffee. But life with God doesn't come with that
calendar invite. It comes with a calling and
a deeply uncomfortable invitation to trust him
when the timing makes zero sense to you. Because
the reality is, this due season is not my deadline.
Welcome to an extra shot of Grace on the Grind.
This is the part of the podcast where the mic
probably should have been turned off, but we
kept talking anyways. It's the bonus space for
deeper theology. honest stories, and a level
of caffeinated commentary, I should probably
apologize for in advance. So grab your coffee,
take a breath, and let's get into this. So in
the main episode, we talked about being stuck
in the middle. But I want to press into the harder
part of faith. Surrendering good desires. It's
one thing to let go of sin. At least we know
those need to go. It's another thing to surrender
a desire for a stronger family, a healthier home,
or a ministry that bears fruit. Because these
things are good. We assume God is obligated to
bring them about on our schedule. But a good
desire can become a crushing burden when we demand
that it happens right now. Sometimes we aren't
asking the Lord, is this yours? We're asking,
Lord, Will you please hurry up and bless the
things I've already decided you should do? I
say that as somebody sitting right in the middle
of it. Surrender sounds spiritual until it touches
something you actually care about. Then it feels
like surgery. Laying down a dream doesn't mean
you stop caring. It means you stop clutching.
It's saying, Lord, I'll be faithful with what's
in front of me, but I won't demand the future
match. picture in my head. That's hard. Galatians
6 .9 says, Let us not grow weary of doing good,
for in due season we'll reap, if we do not give
up. Paul doesn't say you'll reap when it feels
reasonable or when it finally is something people
notice. He says in due season. Due season means
an appointed time. God's time. Not random or
forgotten. but also not my deadline. If I'm honest,
I don't usually want due season. I want soon
season. I want right now season. I want a clear
agenda and one achievable milestone at a time.
But Paul anchors us in endurance. The danger
in the middle season isn't usually dramatic disobedience.
It's quiet resignation. It's the slow shift where
we stop expecting God to move and just start
enduring him. Endurance isn't glamorous. No one
puts it on a coffee mug because it sounds exhausting.
But God forms us not by giving constant feedback,
but by teaching us to trust him when the feedback
is absent. Our culture struggles with this because
we want immediate outcomes. Plant Monday, harvest
Friday, post the testimony Sunday, but scripture
gives us a Different category. Faithful people
who never see the full result of their faithfulness.
Hebrews 11 talks about people who died in faith.
Not having received the things promised, but
having seen them from afar. They died in faith,
not failure. Their faithfulness wasn't measured
by whether they held the finished product. Sometimes
God doesn't give us the view. He gives us the
field. If the harvest belongs to God, I don't
have to manipulate it or panic when it's slow.
Some things we're building right now may bloom
in our children or grandchildren's lifetime.
If our goal is to finish everything ourselves,
that's disappointing. But if our goal is to steward
our part faithfully, it's beautiful. Maybe the
point was never to own the harvest, but to be
faithful with the seed. I planted, Apollos watered,
but God gave the growth. 1 Corinthians 3 .6 That
verse is freeing because growth doesn't depend
on me. But man, it's frustrating because it doesn't
obey my schedule either. I can take a good calling
and start treating it like it depends entirely
on me. In parenting, marriage, or work. I start
out faithful. Then I get nervous. And then I
start gripping. Suddenly obedience becomes control
wearing church clothes. Control says, if you
really cared, you'd carry this harder. You'd
pick up more. But Psalm 127 says, unless the
Lord builds the house, those who build it labor
in vain. It doesn't say, don't build. It says
don't build like you are God. You are trusting
your own efforts more than you are trusting God's
providence. The absence of visible progress doesn't
mean God is absent. You may be gathering stone,
but God builds the house. This is where David's
story hits home. David wanted to build the temple.
It wasn't an ego trip. It was a holy desire.
But God told him he wouldn't be the one to build.
Solomon would. God didn't tell David the desire
was bad. He just said, not your hands. What do
we do when God says no to a good goal? If you're
like me, you assume a burden on the heart equals
immediate completion. But sometimes the next
step is just preparation. David didn't pout.
He gathered materials, prepared his son, and
organized the work. That is surrender with a
shovel in your hand. Faithfulness isn't always
measured by what we finish, but by what we prepare
for the next person to carry. The kingdom is
built by preparers, people who pray prayers that
outlive them. That was David at the end of his
life. In some seasons, that's us. I'm learning
slowly, and usually with the maturity of a toddler
who missed his nap, that my job isn't to force
the product, but to be faithful with the preparation.
I would prefer a progress bar. I mean, I love
progress bars. Even when it tells me three minutes
remaining for 47 minutes? At least it's pretending
to give me info. But God gives us daily bread.
Enough strength for today's step. Sometimes that's
hard for me. But it leads to the question, can
I prepare without possessing? Can I bless a future
I won't personally enter? That's generational
faithfulness. Moses led to the edge. David gathered
the stone. So the prayer is, Lord, make me faithful
in the part of the story I actually hold. Not
the part I wish I held. but the seed, the bedtime
story, the unseen sacrifice. Obedience lived
quietly reshapes the heart. So here's your challenge.
Do not just name what you're waiting for. Name
what you're preparing. When we only focus on
the wait, we get resentful. When we focus on
the preparation, we become faithful. Ask yourself,
am I responding to what God has actually asked
of me? Or am I reacting to expectations, comparison,
or fear? You can't control the legacy 50 years
from now. But you can tend the seed with integrity
today. Pray this, Lord, if this harvest belongs
to another season, make me faithful in this one.
If I do not get to build the temple, teach me
how to gather the stone. That prayer loosens
our grip. without emptying our hands. Due season
is not my deadline. That means some good things
won't happen as fast as we hoped. But some faithful
lives are called to gather the stone and strengthen
the generation. That isn't a lesser calling.
It's a holy one, no matter what my ADD brain
thinks about it. Don't despise the preparation.
Don't assume God is absent because the timeline
is long. Keep building what's in your hands.
You don't have to carry the weight of what's
next. You just have to be faithful with what's
now. Thanks for joining me for this extra shot.
If this hits home, send it to someone who's tired
of planting. Until next time, keep your coffee
strong and your heart steady in the season God
has actually given you.