“Open up, lift your hands higher – I know it’s hard. Give me back what I have given
Trust my heart (You can trust my heart) – I have loved him before you have
Follow me. Slowly we will climb together; I’m not leavin’ you…” Isaac, Hollyn

Some seasons require climbing mountains.

Mountains are stunning. As a now-Floridian who is used to flat ground and palm trees, the views afforded mountain towns are a far cry from my normal perspective. Going on runs and bike rides is a breeze here (if you can stand the heat). The same is not true when I visit family in Georgia or Missouri – the hills are everywhere, and as beautiful as they are, they aren’t easy to climb.

Imagine for a moment what Abraham must have felt as he climbed that mountain to sacrifice Isaac (Genesis 22). He was going somewhere he didn’t want to go to do something he didn’t want to do – and it was God who had asked him to do it. How awful. How heartwrenching.

How familiar.

Have you ever had to give up on a dream? To truly lose something that you thought was in your grasp – and not just a dream, but the dream – the one you’ve prayed about for too many years now? Maybe it’s the child you’ve been praying for. Maybe it’s the financial breakthrough you desperately need or the relationship tension that just won’t break. Maybe, like me, it’s a season of singleness that feels more like a lifetime than a season.

“I hope I’m not still single at 26.” The words echoed in my ears in the weeks following my 26th birthday. I laughed at the words my younger self had uttered, observing the irony that not only was I still single, but I hadn’t been on a real date in over five years. What are you doing, God?

After my one and only breakup when I was 20, I distinctly remember praying fervently, asking that the next boyfriend I had would be my husband. In the years that followed, I often wondered why no one was asking me out, but I comforted myself with the knowledge that God was answering my prayer – it wasn’t time yet. He was hiding me.

My next breakup was that much more devastating because I was sure that this time God had given me my Isaac. It was finally time for my singleness season to be over. I had never been more certain – and then, with a blink, it was gone.

I’ve wept, I’ve cried, I’ve screamed to God – Why? Why would you start to answer a prayer, and then stop in the middle? Why would you toy with me like this? Why is my miracle always out of reach?

As I write this, previous words of His echo back to me: “There is something He is doing that is greater than I can understand”.

When I turned 26, I asked my mom to pray over me. As she prayed, the words tumbled out of her mouth: “Let it be a year of jubilee…”

We were both a little surprised. I received it and we both felt that it was prophetic – this would be a year where God restored some of what the enemy has tried to steal from my life. In December, I made a candle with some dear friends and named it “Jubilee”. I wanted to mark what God was doing in me.

But once again, God surprised me, because jubilee has not looked like what I thought it was going to look like. As I mentioned previously, I’ve learned that joy looks different than I thought it would. Learning to rejoice isn’t usually easy, and waiting for jubilee requires enduring the season without the thing that you are waiting for God to redeem.

I’ve clung to this song in this season. God cannot buy back a dream that you have in your hands. It’s impossible, and He often wants to take what you think your dream is out of your hands so that He can place the right dream back into them.

As I write this, I think of my Uncle Alastair and Aunt Geanna, who spent a decade seeking God during a battle against infertility – and I think of the gift that they now have in beautiful Jubilee Rae.

I think of my dear friend Brittni, who faithfully waited years for a husband and is now married and pregnant with her firstborn. I think of other friends who have dreamed and prayed and have not yet received the miracle they are waiting for – myself included.

Then I think of the lyrics above – “Slowly we will climb together; I’m not leaving you.”

God is climbing with me. He’s climbing with you. He never asks you to sacrifice something He will not redeem.

God is good. His thoughts towards you are good. No good thing will He withhold unless it is for your good.

If you don’t have it, it’s not good. So if you don’t have it and it seems good, then that means He is up to something even greater.