AUDIO PODCAST

THE HIDDEN INFRASTRUCTURE OF DESTINY

There are days I feel the weight of invisibility—that agonising in-between space where I am neither where I was, nor where I’m going. I’ve outgrown the old structures, but the new ones haven’t yet appeared. It’s the wilderness between Egypt and Canaan. It’s the silence between the promise and the thunder.

But I’ve come to realise something holy happens here, something divine and deliberate. God does some of His greatest work underground.

We often equate progress with visibility. But in God’s economy, the unseen is often more powerful than the seen. A seed must break in the dark before it blossoms in the light. A foundation must be poured in secret before the house can rise.

The world shouts, “You’re behind! Hurry up! Compete, catch up, prove yourself!”
But the Spirit whispers, “Be still. Be shaped. Be hidden until you’re ready.”

BIBLICAL ANCHOR

“The kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow—he does not know how.”
—Mark 4:26–27 (NRSV)

This is the divine paradox: you sleep, God grows. Not through striving or hustling. But through trust.

ETYMOLOGY OF “PREPARE”

The word prepare comes from Latin “praeparare“—prae meaning “before” and parare meaning “to make ready”. To be prepared is not to be passive but to be made ready beforehand by a wiser Hand. This means what feels like a delay is, in fact, divine readiness. Heaven is not late. It is intentional.

Even the Hebrew root of the word for “appointed time”—מוֹעֵד (moed)—carries the sense of a “set meeting,” an ordained time. God’s economy runs on appointments, not accidents.

THE SPIRITUAL INFRASTRUCTURE

When God builds you for what’s next, He starts at the deepest level—your spirit, your character, your identity. Like Joseph in prison, like David in the cave, like Jesus in the wilderness, the hidden places become training grounds.

God prepares His people in obscurity before He reveals them in glory.

In Hebrew thought, the wilderness (midbar) is not punishment—it’s a place of divine speech. The root of midbar is davar, meaning “word” or “to speak.”
The wilderness is where God speaks most intimately. Thus it is also the place where we must spend time in stillness practicing active listening.

So if you find yourself in the “pause,” know this: you’re not behind. You’re being spoken to. Formed. Readied.

THE DESERT IS NOT A DELAY—IT’S A DESIGN

Speaking of “pause“, in Russian Orthodox tradition, there is a powerful word: пустыня (pustynya)—the wilderness. It means “desert,” but its root “pusto ” speaks of emptiness, of a sacred void. It is not a wasteland, but a womb.

The pustynya is not where God abandons us—it’s where He prepares us. It is the place of shedding, shaping, and slow illumination. The wilderness is, in fact, God’s pedagogical landscape—His divine classroom. It is the sacred architecture of formation.

Here, where the world is stripped away, He re-teaches us how to walk, speak, and see with a new identity. Just because you are in a desert doesn’t mean you are lost or have been abandoned. Remember that the Spirit of God led not only Jesus but also ancient Israel into the desert. Why? Because the desert is the path to the promised land. Even a seed must be buried for it to reach its full potential. The dark is not the end; it’s the beginning.

Just as Jesus entered the desert before His public ministry, and Israel wandered before the Promised Land, so must we pass through holy obscurity. In the quiet, in the hunger, in the unglamorous stretch of waiting, the soul is schooled. Even Moses spent 40 years in the desert before he led Israel through it. It turns out you can’t lead others when you haven’t been there yourself. The desert teaches what comfort cannot. It is a place uncluttered with distraction where the silence shouts at you.

The desert does not mean you’re lost. It means you’re being taught.

It is not delay. It is design. It is not punishment. It is preparation.

It is the holy ground where hidden foundations are laid, where a new kind of strength is forged—the strength that comes only from God.

The desert may be disorientating, but it is a necessary step for those following in the Master’s footsteps. It is unavoidable.

WHEN IT FEELS LIKE DEATH, IT’S ACTUALLY RECONSTRUCTION

There are seasons so severe, so disorienting, that it feels as though your entire identity has been liquefied, dissolved, obliterated. You look in the mirror and barely recognise the person staring back. The dreams, the roles, and the rhythms you once held—all dissolved—and you don’t know who you are anymore. Good!

But this, too, is sacred.

You have not been destroyed. You have entered the chrysalis—the womb of recreation.

Biologically, a caterpillar doesn’t just grow wings inside its cocoon—it disintegrates. Within the chrysalis, it breaks down into cellular liquid. The old form ceases. What emerges is something entirely new. Not an improved version of what was, but a complete re-creation.

So be careful of what you ask for; you may just get it, and the process of getting there may be shockingly disorienting.

This is what the Spirit does in us.

When the scaffolding of who you were collapses, and it feels like your former self has died, you are not being punished—you are being transfigured. You are leaving the crawl for the sky. You are shedding the limitations that once tethered you to the earth. God is not merely fixing you—He is resurrecting you.

The womb of the Spirit often looks like a tomb.

Don’t underestimate the quiet work happening beneath the surface. Even when it feels like nothing is shifting, transformation often begins invisibly—through your thoughts, prayers, decisions, and the way you show up for your calling. Keep planting seeds in faith. Heaven has its own calendar, and delay does not mean denial.

This is the place of divine reformation. You are not losing yourself. You are being re-authored by the One who wrote your name in light before time began.

Do you feel the crush? Welcome to the chrysalis.

DEVOTIONAL PRAYER

Abba,

Thank You for the hidden seasons, even when I resent them.
Thank You that when nothing seems to move, You are moving deep within me.
Build in me what cannot be shaken.
Teach me to love the quiet grind, the holy patience, the secret stretching.
Silence every lie that says I’m behind or forgotten.
Remind me that in Your Kingdom, the slow work is the surest work.
I yield to the pace of grace.

Amen.

FIVE QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION

1. Where in my life do I feel like I’m “behind”—and is that belief rooted in truth or pressure?
2. What hidden growth might God be cultivating in me during this season?
3. Can I remember a time when a delay turned out to be divine preparation?
4. What does it look like to trust God’s timing without striving to force my own?
5. How can I realign with God’s rhythm this week—spiritually, practically, emotionally?

MEMVERSE

“I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20, NKJV)