The Unseen Season

Would you believe me if I told you that since about 2014, I’ve written at least one book a year — and for the past five years, a minimum of two per year?

I know. I’ve asked myself why. What for?

Especially because, although I’ve published about 55% of them, they’ve all been self-published. No big fanfare. No traditional deal. Just me, a keyboard, and what feels like a persistent nudge.

Yet the urge — the agency — to write burns on.

The books have ranged from autobiographical reflections to cookbooks, novels, devotionals, and lately, home décor and home maintenance. A mixed bag, truly.

Somewhere deep in my spirit, I carry this strong sense that a day will come when having this catalogue will be exactly what’s required. And when that day comes, it will be too late to sit down and try to capture everything retrospectively.

So here and now, I put the pressure on myself. I write as much and as often as I feel led.

It would be relatively easy to say, “What’s the point?” and simply not open the laptop. Perhaps it’s the way my brain is wired. Or perhaps it’s the Holy Spirit grabbing hold and refusing to let go. Because once a concept for a book is planted, I cannot seem to release it until it has been fully captured.

It’s slightly inconvenient, if I’m honest.

Anyway, I was sitting at a café this morning thinking about what this might mean — for you and for me. About knowing the things God whispers and choosing to follow them through, even when we don’t know or understand to what end.

Future me would be deeply disappointed — and, dare I say, embarrassed — if when the time came, I hadn’t prepared everything she needed to carry us into the next stage of this life journey.

We often ask, “What would you say to your younger self?” But perhaps the better question is: “What will your future self say about the work you did to prepare her?”

Seasons…

A time to sow.

A time to wait — and water while you wait.

A time to protect the tiny seedling.

And eventually, a time for harvest.

Everything has a season and must be submitted to the order of creation.

Even you.

Even me.

So I sit in front of my laptop, typing away. Day by day. Trusting the process.

What I know for sure is that nothing is ever wasted. So this too will come in handy one day.

On the drive home from Durban, I was listening to a podcast where comedian Josh Johnson spoke about releasing a large catalogue of work — partly so he would know that with the gift he’d been given, he had used it fully. That he had done it well.

It made me think.

If a phenomenal singer was gifted with the ability to sing but chose not to — because they were waiting for a record deal, a large platform, or in this day and age, one million Instagram followers — would we think their reasons were valid? Would we applaud the restraint? Or would we feel the loss of something that was meant to be expressed?

We love other people’s hero stories. We embrace the complexity of their journeys. Sometimes we even praise them for doing the hard thing — for doing the work long before anyone was clapping.

This is our opportunity to do the same.

To value what God has placed in our hands — even if the only audience we ever have is Him.

The Dream-Giver.

The Gift-Giver.

After all… is that not enough?

Performing for the Audience of One.

Writing for His enjoyment alone.

Doing whatever He’s asked of you because it brings Him joy.

I want to gently challenge you today: there is nothing you need in order to fulfil your calling, your purpose, your gifting — that isn’t already in your hands.

When God sent Moses to Pharaoh, He didn’t send him with a fully fledged strategic plan — or a budget. When Abraham was told to take his son up the mountain without clarity about where the lamb would come from, he still obeyed. When Lot was told to leave, he moved.

(And knowing my stubbornness at times, I would absolutely have needed further instructions. “Lord, when I walk out the door… do I go left or right?”)

And yet — His love and grace are so generous that even when we question and stumble, He still meets us there.

So as you approach the third month of 2026 (I can't believe we're here already!), I hope you feel encouraged.

Don’t let another day pass you by. Get up and get on with it.

Pray that God would quiet the fear that floods your soul. I pray that courage would rise instead. That the joy of loving — and bringing joy to the One who created you — would supersede everything else.

I pray that you would be okay with momentarily looking foolish — for Him.

God will, in time, make all things work together for good if He has called you to His will and you are submitted to it.

Nothing is wasted.

Not the words.

Not the obedience.

Not the unseen seasons.