When God Changes the Question
One of the greatest lessons God has been teaching me lately has nothing to do with productivity. It’s about discernment.
For most of my adult life, I assumed that forward movement was almost always the right answer. If there was an opportunity to build something meaningful, I wanted to pursue it. If I saw a problem, I instinctively wanted to solve it. If there was a chance to create, lead, improve, or grow, my natural inclination was to move toward it.
That wiring has served me well in many ways. Entrepreneurs need initiative. Leaders need vision. Builders need the willingness to act when others hesitate.
But over the past year, God has been gently exposing something I couldn’t see before.
Patience is not the same thing as procrastination.
At first glance they can look remarkably similar. Both involve waiting. Both can appear inactive from the outside.
Yet one is rooted in fear while the other is rooted in trust.
Learning to distinguish between the two may be one of the defining marks of mature leadership.
Opportunity vs. Assignment
As someone who is naturally driven, I don’t struggle with a lack of ideas. If anything, I have the opposite problem. New ideas come easily. Opportunities seem to present themselves everywhere. Collaborations, projects, leadership roles, businesses to start, problems to solve—they’re rarely in short supply.
What has become scarce isn’t opportunity.
It’s discernment.
I’ve slowly come to realize that a good opportunity isn’t necessarily God’s assignment.
That sentence has become a filter through which I’ve begun evaluating nearly every decision.
For years, my default question was, Could I do this?
Today the better question has become, Is this mine to carry?
Those are entirely different questions.
Have you ever stopped to consider that…
Just because you possess the ability to build something doesn’t mean God is asking you to build it.
Just because an opportunity is exciting doesn’t mean it’s yours to accept. Just because a door is open doesn’t automatically mean you’re supposed to walk through it.
The older I get, the more convinced I become that wisdom isn’t measured by how many opportunities we seize. It’s measured by how many we’re willing to let pass.
That’s surprisingly difficult for high achievers.
People who are wired to create often experience a subtle addiction to novelty.
Starting something new feels energizing.
New ideas create momentum.
Momentum feels productive.
Productivity feels purposeful.
Before long, we can begin mistaking motion for progress.
In my coaching circles, I’ve been known to caution my clients that constantly starting something can give you a “false sense of accomplishment.”
But spiritual maturity often looks remarkably different.
Sometimes growth looks like remaining.
Tend What God Has Already Given You
One of the hardest disciplines is resisting the urge to constantly look over the fence.
Instead of asking, “What’s next?”
Ask:
“What has God already entrusted to me that I’m not fully tending?”
Maybe it’s your family.
Maybe it’s your marriage.
Maybe it’s your health.
Maybe it’s your current work.
Maybe it’s the handful of people who already trust your voice.
Faithfulness often looks surprisingly ordinary.
When I read the Bible, I am reminded that God is often asking us to water the garden we’ve already been given before searching for another field to plant.
That means that sometimes obedience looks like continuing to faithfully carry out the assignment already in front of you rather than searching for a new one.
This year, I’ve found myself politely declining invitations, and even job offers, that would have excited an earlier version of me.
I’ve resisted launching ideas that could have been successful. I’ve intentionally chosen not to fill every open space in my calendar with another commitment—not because the opportunities weren’t good, but because I’m learning that an opportunity is not always the same as an assignment.
There was a time when I spent enormous energy trying to push doors open.
Networking.
Strategizing.
Creating opportunities.
Making things happen.
I don’t regret those years. God used them to develop gifts, discipline, and confidence. But today I’d much rather walk through a door God opens than exhaust myself trying to force open one He quietly closed.
That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped preparing.
It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped learning.
It doesn’t mean I’ve stopped dreaming.
It simply means I’ve stopped confusing urgency with obedience.
My word for this year is ABIDE.
Not hustle.
Not produce.
Not prove.
Abide.
I’ve discovered that abiding requires a kind of strength I didn’t fully appreciate in my younger years, and I think that is normal.
Abiding requires trusting that God is accomplishing things beneath the surface that I cannot yet see. It requires believing that my value isn’t determined by visible momentum.
Seeds don’t grow faster because we dig them up every few days to check on them.
The farmer understands something we often forget.
Some of the most important work happens underground.
Invisible.
Quiet.
Slow.
Yet absolutely essential.
Leadership is the same.
The most mature leaders aren’t the ones who constantly chase the next opportunity. They’re the ones who have learned the discipline of recognizing the difference between an opportunity and an assignment.
Recognizing an Assignment
I’ve found that God’s assignments rarely arrive as completely random detours. More often, they build upon the gifts He’s already given you, the experiences He’s already walked you through, and the lessons He’s already been teaching you.
Unlike the rush of a new opportunity, an assignment has a quiet persistence to it.
The excitement may come and go, but the conviction remains.
Even when the work is difficult, there’s an underlying peace that says, This is where I’m meant to be. And sometimes the assignment becomes clear long before the timing does.
In those seasons, waiting isn’t a delay—it’s part of the preparation.
If something is truly from God, you usually don’t have to chase it in fear that you’ll miss it.
It doesn’t simply disappear because you exercised patience.
On the other hand, be cautious of opportunities that seem almost too good to be true or appeal primarily to your desire for money, recognition, or influence. Those things aren’t inherently wrong, but they’re poor compasses.
God’s assignments tend to shape your character before they elevate your “platform”.
Trust the Season You’re In
If you’re in a quieter chapter right now, especially if you’re someone who’s naturally wired to build, create, and move, I hope you’ll remember this:
You don’t have to manufacture momentum to be moving in the right direction.
Sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is continue tending the seeds God has already entrusted to you and trust that He’s doing work beneath the surface—even when you can’t yet see it.
Until next time, thanks for reading.
Jessica.
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