Welcome to Pomoja Podcast, the place where stronger
lives are built, faith is strengthened, hearts
are encouraged, and Christ -centered homes are
shaped through ordinary conversations that become
extraordinary encounters with God's truth. One
conversation, one story, one revelation at a
time. I'm your host, Barry Mwamba. Over the past
three conversations, we have followed one remarkable
pattern that appears again and again throughout
scripture. Joseph discovered that the prison
was never the end of his story. Moses learned
that the wilderness was never a punishment but
a preparation. Esther realized that the palace
had become the place where God had positioned
her long before she understood why. Daniel proved.
that Babylon could never redefine a heart that
had already been surrendered to God. Different
people, different generations, different circumstances,
the same God, the same forge, the same preparation.
Today we arrive at another servant whose story
raises a question that many believers quietly
ask, but rarely say aloud. Why does God sometimes
seem to hide the very people he has called? Why
would God reveal such an extraordinary assignment
only to allow years to pass before that assignment
begins? If God has spoken, why the silence? If
God has called, why the waiting? If the assignment
is so important, why does nothing seem to happen?
No one illustrates that question more powerfully
than the Apostle Paul. Most of us remember the
road to Damascus. We remember the bright light,
the voice of Jesus, the dramatic conversion,
and the complete transformation of a man who
had once persecuted the Church. It is one of
the greatest turning points in the New Testament,
but what happened after Damascus, that is the
part of the story we often overlook. Because
after such an extraordinary encounter with Christ,
we naturally expect Paul to begin preaching immediately,
planting churches, writing letters, and changing
the world. Instead, he disappears, for years,
almost silently. And I have often wondered why.
Why would God reveal one of the greatest missionary
assignments in history? and then allow years
of hidden preparation before sending Paul to
the nations. Perhaps because Damascus was never
the completion of Paul's preparation, it was
only the beginning. There is something fascinating
about the way God works throughout scripture.
We often imagine that once God reveals an assignment,
everything should begin moving quickly. We assume
that calling should immediately lead to opportunity,
that revelation should immediately produce influence,
and that an encounter with God should immediately
place us on the platform He has prepared. But
the Bible repeatedly tells a different story.
Joseph received the dream before the prison.
David received the anointing before the throne.
Moses encountered the burning bush after 40 years
in Midian. Esther became queen long before Haman
appeared. Daniel settled his convictions long
before the lion's den. Now Paul meets Jesus on
the Damascus road and everything appears ready
for ministry to begin. Yet instead of sending
Paul immediately into public leadership, God
allows him to enter another hidden season. Why?
Because an encounter with Christ, as life -changing
as it is, is not the same thing as being prepared
for the full weight of an assignment. Paul's
heart had been transformed in a moment. His understanding
would be shaped over years. He had seen Jesus.
Now he needed to learn Jesus. He had received
a calling. Now he had to become the man who could
faithfully carry it. That distinction is so important.
God does not simply call people. He forms them.
He does not merely reveal purpose. He develops
the person who will fulfill it. I think one of
the greatest misconceptions among believers is
the idea that once God speaks, delay means something
has gone wrong. Yet throughout scripture, hidden
seasons are rarely signs that God has forgotten
his servants. More often, they are evidence that
he is still preparing them. Paul's hidden years
remind us that visibility is not the measure
of fruitfulness. Some of God's deepest work takes
place where almost no one is watching. The world
celebrates public success. God often celebrates
private formation. And perhaps that is why so
many of God's greatest servants spent years in
places history barely records. Those years were
not empty pages. They were the workshop where
heaven was preparing men and women for assignments
that would one day influence generations. If
Paul's hidden years teach us that God often prepares
His servants away from public attention, another
question naturally follows. What was God doing
during those years? What changes inside a person
when heaven seems quiet? What does God build
in the hidden places that cannot be built in
the spotlight? That is where our journey continues.
As we continue Paul's story, I cannot help but
ask another question that has challenged me personally.
What exactly was God doing during those hidden
years? If Paul had already encountered Jesus
on the road to Damascus, if Ananias had already
laid hands on him, if God had already declared
that this man would carry his name before Gentiles,
kings, and the people of Israel, then why did
heaven seem so quiet afterward? What was left
to prepare? After all, Paul already knew the
scriptures better than most people of his generation.
He had studied under Gamaliel, one of the most
respected teachers in Israel. He possessed extraordinary
intelligence, remarkable discipline, and an unwavering
passion for what he believed. From a human perspective,
Paul appeared ready. Yet God's perspective was
different, because knowledge alone is never enough
to carry a divine assignment. Character must
become strong enough to sustain what knowledge
cannot. I often think about the contrast between
the man who entered Damascus and the man who
eventually stood before kings, wrote letters
that would shape the church for 2 ,000 years,
and willingly laid down his life for Christ.
They were the same man, but they were not the
same person. Something had changed, something
had been formed, something had been forged. That
transformation did not happen overnight. It happened
quietly, patiently, and almost entirely outside
the public eye. I believe those hidden years
became Paul's classroom with the Holy Spirit.
For years he had studied the law through the
eyes of a Pharisee. Now he had to read the same
scriptures through the eyes of Christ. Every
prophecy he had memorized, every sacrifice he
had taught, every promise made to Abraham, Moses,
David, and the prophets suddenly carried an entirely
different meaning because they all pointed to
Jesus. Can you imagine that journey? Imagine
opening the scroll of Isaiah again, reading Psalm
22 again, studying Genesis again, returning to
the writings of Moses again. only this time,
seeing Christ everywhere. The man who once believed
he understood scripture was now discovering that
he was only beginning to understand it. Perhaps
that is why God allowed the hidden years, not
because Paul lacked intelligence, but because
revelation takes time to reshape a person. God
was not simply giving Paul new information, He
was transforming the way Paul saw everything.
And isn't that exactly how God often works in
our own lives? Many of us pray for God to use
us, while God is quietly changing the way we
think, the way we see people, the way we understand
His Word, and even the way we understand ourselves.
From the outside, it may appear that nothing
significant is happening, yet beneath the surface,
the Holy Spirit is laying foundations that will
one day support an assignment far greater than
we can presently imagine. The hidden years remind
us that spiritual maturity cannot be rushed.
Fruit grows slowly, roots grow even more slowly,
yet both are necessary. No one admires the roots
of a tree because they cannot be seen. Everyone
notices the branches, the leaves, and the fruit.
Yet the greater the tree God intends to grow,
the deeper the roots must first become. Otherwise,
when the storms arrive, the very success we prayed
for could become the reason we fall. Perhaps
that is one of the reasons God hides His servants
before revealing them. He is not delaying their
assignment. He is strengthening the roots that
will support it. When I look back over Joseph's
life, I see the same principle. The prison. was
strengthening his roots before the palace ever
became visible. David's years with the sheep
and in the caves were deepening roots that would
later support the throne. Moses's wilderness
was driving his roots deeper than Pharaoh's palace
ever could. Daniel's years in Babylon established
convictions that no empire could uproot. Now
Paul teaches us that hiddenness itself can become
one of God's greatest workshops. Because sometimes
the greatest thing God accomplishes during a
season of waiting is not changing our circumstances,
it is changing us. Eventually, the hidden years
came to an end. The man whom God had been quietly
shaping would finally begin the assignment that
had been spoken over his life on the road to
Damascus. But something remarkable happened.
The forge did not end when Paul's ministry began.
In many ways, it became even hotter. Because
the servant who had been prepared in hiddenness
would now be prepared through suffering, persecution,
and prison. And that may be one of the greatest
paradoxes in the kingdom of God. Sometimes the
assignment is not the end of the forge. Sometimes
it is only the beginning. As I continue reflecting
on Paul's life, I realize there is another misconception
that many of us quietly carry. We often imagine
that once God's assignment begins, the difficult
season should finally come to an end. We assume
that preparation belongs to the past, and that
ministry should now become easier because we
are finally walking in the purpose God has revealed.
Yet Paul's life completely dismantles that expectation.
The moment Paul stepped into his assignment,
he did not step out of the forge. In many ways,
the forge became even more intense. From city
to city, he experienced opposition that most
of us can scarcely imagine. He was misunderstood
by those who once trusted him and rejected by
many who could not accept the gospel he preached.
He was beaten, imprisoned, falsely accused, driven
from cities, shipwrecked, hungry, exhausted,
and repeatedly faced the possibility of death.
If anyone had the right to ask God why ministry
had become so difficult, it was Paul. Yet something
remarkable stands out. Paul never interpreted
suffering as evidence that God had abandoned
him. Instead, he repeatedly saw it as part of
the calling itself. That challenges me, because
our natural instinct is often to measure God's
presence by the absence of difficulty. When life
becomes hard, we begin asking whether we missed
God's will. We wonder if we took the wrong path
or misunderstood His voice. Paul teaches us a
completely different perspective. Faithfulness
to God's assignment does not always remove hardship.
Sometimes it leads us directly into it, not because
God is displeased with us, but because he is
accomplishing something that comfort alone could
never produce. One of the most beautiful examples
of this appears while Paul is sitting in prison.
Imagine that scene for a moment. The man who
had traveled thousands of miles preaching the
gospel suddenly finds himself confined within
four walls. His freedom has been taken away.
His missionary journeys have stopped. His plans
have been interrupted. From a human perspective,
it appears that his ministry has been severely
limited. But heaven sees something entirely different.
While chains restrained Paul's body, they could
not restrain the word of God. Those prison walls
became the place where some of the most influential
letters in the history of Christianity were written.
Ephesians, Philippians, Colossians, and Philemon
were not produced in moments of comfort and convenience.
They were born in confinement, in uncertainty.
and in circumstances that many people would have
considered a setback. Can you imagine if Paul
had spent those years complaining instead of
writing? Can you imagine if he had concluded
that prison meant God's plan had failed? The
church would have lost treasures that have strengthened
believers for nearly 2 ,000 years. Instead, Paul
understood something that every servant of God
eventually has to learn. The assignment is never
limited by our circumstances. God's purpose is
greater than the place where we currently find
ourselves. That is exactly what we have been
discovering throughout this entire series. Joseph
thought prison had interrupted his future, yet
prison became the doorway to the palace. Moses
thought the wilderness had delayed his calling.
Yet the wilderness became the place where he
learned to depend entirely upon God. Esther could
never have imagined that becoming queen was part
of God's plan to preserve an entire nation. Daniel
never realized that Babylon would become the
platform through which kings would witness the
sovereignty of the living God. Now Paul teaches
us that even prison can become a pulpit when
God is writing the story. That is extraordinary.
Nothing had changed about God's assignment. The
location had changed. The method had changed.
The audience had changed. But the purpose remained
exactly the same. Perhaps that is one of the
greatest lessons we need to embrace today. We
often become discouraged when God changes the
way he accomplishes his purpose through our lives.
We expect his plan to unfold according to our
timeline and our preferred methods. Yet throughout
scripture, God continually demonstrates that
he is never limited by geography, opposition,
rejection, imprisonment, or delay. When one door
closes, he simply reveals another way for his
purpose to continue moving forward. Paul's prison
was never the end of his ministry. It became
another chapter in the forge. And perhaps that
is why his letters continue speaking today. They
were not written merely by a brilliant theologian.
They were written by a servant whose faith had
been tested, refined, purified and strengthened
through every season God allowed him to experience.
That is why his words still carry such weight.
They were forged before they were written. Paul's
hidden years prepared him for the assignment.
His sufferings deepened him within the assignment.
His prisons expanded the assignment. Nothing
God allowed in Paul's life was meaningless. Nothing
was accidental. Nothing was wasted. As we conclude
this conversation, there is one final truth that
brings every part of Paul's story together and
reveals why God sometimes chooses hiddenness
before influence, suffering before impact, and
waiting before fulfillment. And perhaps it is
one of the most encouraging lessons we have discovered
so far in this journey through Forge for Your
Future assignment. As I come to the end of Paul's
story, there is one thought that continues to
grow stronger in my heart. I no longer believe
that God's greatest objective was simply to make
Paul one of the greatest missionaries in history.
That certainly happened, but I do not think it
was God's highest goal. God was preparing Paul
to look more like Christ. When you begin reading
Paul's letters, you notice something remarkable.
The man who once relied upon his own accomplishments
gradually became a man who boasted only in Christ.
The Pharisee who had once found confidence in
his education, his reputation, and his religious
achievements eventually wrote that he considered
all those things loss compared to the surpassing
greatness of knowing Jesus Christ. That transformation
did not happen on the road to Damascus alone.
It was forged through years of walking with Christ.
It was forged through disappointments, persecutions,
imprisonments, unanswered questions, painful
sacrifices, lonely journeys, and moments when
Paul had nothing left to depend upon except the
faithfulness of God. The Holy Spirit was removing
everything that Paul could rely upon apart from
Christ until Christ himself became enough. Perhaps
that is one of the deepest works God accomplishes
in every servant he calls. Before he entrusts
us with greater influence, he patiently removes
every foundation that cannot sustain the weight
of his assignment. He teaches us not to place
our confidence in our gifts, our intelligence,
our experience, our position, or even our past
victories. Instead, he slowly brings us to the
place where our confidence rests entirely upon
him. That is why Paul could eventually write,
I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.
Notice that he did not say he was born content.
He said he had learned. Learning implies a process.
It implies experiences. It implies seasons that
God intentionally used to teach lessons that
could never be learned in a classroom. He also
wrote, I can do all things through Christ who
strengthens me. We often quote those words when
we are pursuing success, but Paul wrote them
while reflecting on seasons of hunger. need,
abundance, suffering, and uncertainty. His confidence
was not built upon favorable circumstances. It
was built upon the unchanging presence of Christ.
That is the forge. The forge teaches us that
God's presence is greater than our circumstances.
The forge teaches us that His faithfulness is
not measured by how comfortable our lives become.
The Forge teaches us that his purpose continues
moving forward even when our plans appear to
stand still. When I step back and look at Paul's
entire journey, I realize that nothing God allowed
was random. Damascus was necessary. Arabia was
necessary. The hidden years were necessary. The
missionary journeys were necessary. The imprisonments
were necessary. Even the chains became instruments
through which the gospel reached places Paul
could never have imagined. Nothing was wasted.
And isn't that exactly what we have been discovering
from the very beginning of this series? Joseph's
prison was not wasted. David's caves were not
wasted. Moses' wilderness was not wasted. Esther's
palace was not wasted. Daniel's Babylon was not
wasted. Paul's hidden years and imprisonments
were not wasted. Every season became another
stroke of the master's hand, shaping his servants
for the assignments he had prepared long before
they understood them. Perhaps you are listening
today while living through one of those hidden
seasons. You love God. You know he has placed
something in your heart. Yet nothing seems to
be moving as quickly as you expected. Heaven
appears quiet, doors remain closed, and you wonder
whether God has forgotten what he promised. Paul's
life gently reminds us that God's silence should
never be confused with God's absence. The blacksmith
appears quiet while he is working. The roots
of a great tree grow silently beneath the ground.
A foundation is laid long before the building
becomes visible, and God's greatest work inside
His servants is often accomplished where human
eyes cannot see it. So if today you find yourself
in one of those hidden seasons, do not despise
it. Do not rush through it. Do not assume that
because the world does not see you, God is not
working in you. Perhaps He is accomplishing His
greatest work right now, because when God finally
reveals the assignment, He is not looking for
the most talented servant. He is looking for
the servant who has been faithfully forged. As
we continue our journey through Forge for Your
Future Assignment, we now arrive at one of the
most personal stories in all of Scripture. Unlike
Paul, whose forge was marked by hidden years
and suffering, our next servant will teach us
that God can even use our greatest failures as
part of His preparation. Peter loved Jesus with
all his heart, yet in one heartbreaking night,
he denied even knowing Him. Most people would
have concluded that Peter had disqualified himself
forever. Jesus had already determined otherwise.
Join me in our next conversation as we discover
that sometimes the Forge is not a prison, a wilderness,
a palace, a hostile culture, or hidden years.
Sometimes. The forge is our own brokenness and
we will discover that the God who prepares his
servants is also the God who restores them because
his calling is greater than our failures and
his grace is always writing a story that is far
bigger than our worst moment.