N8tivegirl

The Promise Is Not Late

Trusting God With Desire

There comes a moment in every woman’s life when desire must be placed back into the hands of God—not because it is wrong, but because it is sacred.

Desire was never meant to be managed by fear or rushed by longing. It was meant to be entrusted.

For years, many of us hold the pen tightly, trying to write our own love story—editing, revising, crossing out chapters that hurt too much, filling in blanks where silence feels unbearable. We say we trust God, yet we keep one hand on the page, just in case.

But there is a different kind of faith that emerges when we finally set the pen down.

It is the faith that says, “God, I don’t need to control this anymore.”

The faith that whispers, “You can surprise me.”

My grandmother carried a kind of faith I didn’t yet possess. Each year she would ask when I was getting married, and I would jokingly tell her she couldn’t go anywhere yet—she had to wait on me. What I didn’t realize then was that she believed more fiercely than I did. Not in a timeline, but in a promise. She trusted God’s ability to finish what He started—even when I wavered.

Like Sarah, I questioned.

Like Thomas, I wanted proof.

And still, God remained patient.

There is no shame in wanting love. There is no weakness in hoping for covenant. The danger comes when we begin to chase what God is still crafting.

Counterfeit affection always asks you to hurry.

Covenant love invites you to rest.

Counterfeit love demands performance.

Covenant love is built in presence.

Counterfeit love feels urgent.

Covenant love feels anchored.

This is how we learn the difference.

When God is writing the story, there are seasons of waiting—not as punishment, but as protection. Not because the promise is late, but because it is being prepared. God is not slow. He is intentional.

There comes a holy shift when a woman realizes:

I no longer need to assist God.

I no longer need to force alignment.

I no longer need to prove readiness.

This is the moment you described so perfectly—the “God, you can blow my mind” stage.

Not cynical.

Not closed.

Just surrendered.

It’s the place where desire no longer owns you, but trust steadies you.

And maybe that’s the deeper promise—not just marriage, not just partnership—but becoming the woman who can receive it without fear, without striving, without settling.

The promise is not late.

It’s waiting for the moment when you no longer chase the story—

and finally let the Author finish the sentence.