N8tivegirl

The fear of transition — of stepping into unfamiliar territory — can be paralyzing. Abram left everything he knew because he believed Me. He didn’t know what the future held, but he trusted that he would be alright.

It’s comforting to stay where you’re planted, even if the soil is too dry for you to grow. But what if I moved you to more fertile ground? Would you bloom there… or wither because it’s unfamiliar?

Is it the fear of the unknown that keeps you rooted where you are?

Moses and the Israelites wandered in the desert for forty years because they feared transition. They saw giants in the land I promised them, and the report of twelve spies became louder than My voice. An entire generation missed their moment because they clung to what was familiar.

My child, what keeps you captive?

Is it fear of the unknown?

Or a lack of trust in Me?

The enemy knows your dreams and My promises concerning you. All he has to do is plant a thought that sounds like Mine — but isn’t. And because you fear what is ahead, you settle for the comfort of what you already know. Even the stagnant places feel safe.

But you can’t see the vision I’ve placed inside you because you’re afraid to give birth to it. You walk around spiritually pregnant, asking, “God, when is it my time?”

And I whisper, “The promise is ready — but you refuse to see it.”

Maybe it doesn’t look the way you imagined.

Maybe it feels too costly.

Maybe it asks more of you than you expected.

My plans are not like man’s. I give you what you need, and by grace, I even give you what you want — but like any parent, I know what is best for you. And how often you refuse My gifts simply because they don’t look like what you prayed for.

You prayed for transition.

I opened the door.

But you listened to the spies, not to Me.

Transition requires becoming new. It requires leaving the familiar and stepping into the land you’ve only seen in glimpses. It requires letting go of people and places that kept you safe but can’t carry you into your future.

You fear failure — but, if you’re honest, you fear success even more.

You say you want the promise. You pray for it. I’ve shown you glimpses of it. But you cling to the land of giants because the pain you know feels safer than the promise you don’t. You cannot be here and there at the same time.

It’s comfortable in chaos because at least you recognize the giants.

Transition has trauma because you don’t know what the new land will require. It takes you out of your comfort zone. You are like a river carried by a current you cannot control — but the moment it delivers you to the shore, you must stand up and walk onto new ground.

And now, My child, it is time.

You no longer fit where you are. You have outgrown the place you’ve tried to remain. You may have to release some things, but nothing you surrender is lost — I replace the old with the new.

If you are a new creation in Me, then old things have passed away.

I have prepared a new place for you.

Do not let the giants hold you captive any longer.

Your destiny is ahead of you, not behind you. You cry in secret because you long for the comfort of a past that is not your future. You feel torn — too here to be there, too there to be here — but that is what transition feels like.

Let go.

Choose life.

Enter the narrow gate.

I have already pushed down the walls.

You have wrestled with the transition, but like Jacob, you are crossing over with a limp that reminds you of what it took to get here.

You made it — in spite of your fear.

Your faith in Me carried you through.

Your scars no longer define you.

Your bruises are healed.

Your secrets are known — and yet I call you whole.

Well done, My good and faithful servant.