Not Yet: The Cost of an Early Blessing

We’ve all wanted something before we were ready for it.

We don’t withhold good things from children because we’re cruel. We do it because we love them.

Ask any parent. There are moments when your child begs for something they’re not ready for. Not because it’s bad. Not because they’re unworthy. But because giving it too soon would do more harm than good.

• A phone.
• A car.
• A paycheck.
• A platform to speak from.
• A family to care for.
• Even a love that leads to covenant.

The object isn’t the problem. The timing is.

Because in the right hands, a gift empowers.
In the wrong hands, it endangers.

We think of blessings as always good. But a blessing given too early? That’s not a gift. That’s a curse.

Picture a twelve-year-old handed the keys to a car.

The engine hums. The doors close with weight. The road stretches out like freedom. But without training, without maturity, without experience, that same gift becomes dangerous. The car isn’t a blessing. It’s a liability.

In a world full of convenience, patience feels like weakness. We want the blessing now. We want the business deal to close, the dream to launch, the relationship to begin. But what if getting what we want too soon is actually a curse? What if the delay isn’t rejection—but mercy?

If God is a loving Father, and the giver of all good gifts, then He’s not going to give us something that will destroy us. Maybe it’s not the gift that’s wrong. Maybe it’s the timing. Maybe we need to become the kind of people who can steward what He’s preparing to give.

The waiting seasons aren’t wasted. They’re where formation happens. They’re the “driver’s ed” moments—where character is built, skills are learned, humility is formed.

Sometimes formation isn’t mechanical. It’s agricultural.

Before anything beautiful grows, the ground has to be worked. The soil tilled. The roots cleared. The weeds pulled. From the surface, it might look like nothing is happening. But underground, God is preparing the soil.

We ask for fruit, but first, He tends the ground.

James 1:4 says, “Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

Sometimes God doesn’t say “no.” He says, “Not yet.” And not because He’s cruel. But because He knows the weight of the blessing. And He loves us too much to let it crush us.

We live in a culture obsessed with quick wins and constant progress. We chase the next opportunity like it’s the finish line. But God doesn’t bless to impress—He blesses to build. And building takes time.

If we’re asking for a bigger platform, a deeper relationship, or a new opportunity—let’s also ask for the maturity to handle it. Let’s pray not just for the gift, but for the grit.

Because a blessing we’re not prepared to carry won’t make us whole—it might undo us. The masters have failed more than the amateurs have tried. Formation takes discipline. Repetition. Quiet faithfulness. The late nights. The unrewarded work. The internal shifts that no one sees.

God is not in a rush. He is after our maturity. Our capacity. Our hearts.

And maybe the delay is not punishment. Maybe it’s protection.

Psalm 27:14 says, “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”

That’s not passive waiting. That’s active, preparatory, spiritual waiting. It’s showing up even when nothing’s moving. It’s training in the hidden places. It’s the quiet “yes” to the process.

Because when the blessing comes—we want to be ready.

This isn’t just about business. Or relationships. Or dreams.

It’s about trust.

Do we trust that God sees the full picture—and knows when we’re ready? Are we willing to let the waiting shape us, instead of resenting it?

What are we asking for right now? And would we still want it if it came with weight? With responsibility? With a cost?

Are we preparing for the gift—or just hoping to receive it?

Life, like music, is made of both notes and rests. There is beauty in the pauses. Not just in the mountaintop, but in the climb. Not just in the harvest, but in the tilling.

It’s not wrong to want the gift. But it is dangerous to want it on our timeline—without formation. Without humility. Without the posture that says:

“We’re not just asking for this because we want it. We’re preparing for it because we know what it will require.”

One act of trust.
One season of preparation.
One moment of surrender.
One quiet "not yet."

God, grow my patience. Make me ready to carry what I once only craved. Let me not just want the gift—but become the kind of person who can receive it well.

May we be people who don’t rush the harvest. Who don’t fear the waiting. Who trust the hands that tend the soil. And when the time comes—may we be ready.

Hand Kraffted, always.

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