What Happens When Life Defies Your Plan?

There’s a different kind of surrender that comes when you admit, “I don’t get this.”

Not rebellion.

Not doubt.

Just honesty.

Some seasons don’t make sense. You pray and still wait. You prepare and still feel delayed. You love and still get hurt. And if we’re real, sometimes the hardest part isn’t the pain—it’s not understanding why.

I’ve learned something about myself in these moments. I like clarity. I like strategy. I like knowing the next step. I like formulas and systems. I like things that are predictable and anticipatory—if I input A and B, I expect C. That’s how I’m wired. Structure gives me confidence. Patterns give me peace.

But faith doesn’t always move in formulas.

Sometimes it moves in mystery.

Proverbs 3:5–6 (CSB) says:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding; in all your ways know him, and he will make your paths straight.”

That phrase—do not rely on your own understanding—hits different when you’re in a season that refuses to explain itself.

The Hebrew word for “understanding” is binah, carrying the idea of discernment and insight—the ability to separate things and make sense of them. In other words, God is saying: Don’t lean on your ability to calculate the outcome.

That’s tough for thinkers.

Tough for planners.

Tough for leaders.

Tough for people who love formulas.

Because formulas feel safe. They’re measurable. Repeatable. Anticipatory.

But God is not a formula to be solved. He’s a Father to be trusted.

Releasing what I don’t understand doesn’t mean I stop thinking. It means I stop leaning.

There’s a difference.

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When Job Didn’t Get an Answer

Consider the Book of Job. Job lost his children, his wealth, his health. And for chapters, he wrestles with questions. His friends try to explain it. They theologize it. They misdiagnose it.

They were trying to apply a formula:

Suffering = Sin.

Pain = Punishment.

But when God finally speaks in Job 38, He doesn’t offer an equation.

He reveals Himself.

“Where were you when I established the earth?” (Job 38:4, CSB)

It wasn’t cruel. It was clarifying. God wasn’t dismissing Job’s pain—He was reminding Job of His perspective.

And that’s what releases us.

Not answers.

Perspective.

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Faith Is Not the Absence of Questions

Research shows that more than half of practicing Christians report seasons of doubt or spiritual confusion at some point in their walk. Growth often feels like disorientation before it feels like stability.

Faith isn’t pretending everything makes sense.

It’s choosing trust when it doesn’t.

Even Jesus in Gethsemane asked, “If it is possible…” (Matthew 26:39). But He ended with, “Not as I will, but as you will.”

That’s the release.

I may not understand this delay.

I may not understand this loss.

I may not understand why doors closed.

And if I’m honest, part of me wants to build a chart for it. A spreadsheet. A timeline that predicts the breakthrough.

But God doesn’t always give forecasts.

He gives faith.

And faith isn’t predictive. It’s relational.

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Releasing Without Resentment

Here’s the part I’m still learning.

You can release something outwardly but still hold resentment inwardly.

Real surrender is internal. It’s when you stop replaying the “why” and start resting in the “Who.”

Isaiah 55:8–9 (CSB):

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, and your ways are not my ways.”

“For as heaven is higher than earth, so my ways are higher than your ways.”

Higher doesn’t mean harsher.

Higher means broader.

Higher means eternal.

When I don’t understand, it doesn’t mean God is absent. It may mean He’s working in dimensions I can’t see yet—variables I didn’t factor in, outcomes I can’t compute.

And maybe that’s mercy.

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What Releasing Produces

When you stop trying to solve what only God can oversee, something shifts:

• Anxiety lowers.
• Prayer deepens.
• Patience stretches.
• Trust strengthens.

You stop demanding explanation and start expecting revelation.

Over time, you look back and realize what confused you was actually forming you. The delay built endurance. The silence built depth. The uncertainty built dependence.

I still love formulas. I still love structure. That’s part of how God made me.

But I’m learning that peace doesn’t come from predicting everything.

It comes from trusting the One who already sees the end from the beginning.

I may not understand it.

But God does.

And that’s enough.