In this world, one of the hardest places to inhabit is the space between before and after. It is not a location you can find on a map, nor is it an object tangible to the touch. But that makes it no less real. When you’re walking through such a season, uncertainty lingers in the air like smoke from a distant fire, stinging your lungs when you try to breathe. The bitter taste of the ashes of dreams and hopes you once held coats your tongue, making it hard to speak. Your past is shrouded in the mist of questioning, and your future is clouded by the fog of hesitation.
Nothing seems sure anymore. What you once thought was real is no longer so, and you are tempted to ask yourself if it ever was. How much of what you held to be true was actually a lie? Will you ever know? Does it even matter?
Questions accompany you far more often than answers. How could this have happened, and why? When will you catch a glimpse of the light again?
And then there is the question that conquers them all, the one you hardly dare allow yourself to ask:
Will this ever change?
Waiting is hardly ever easy, but it lightens the load if you know when the wait will end—if you know that the wait will end. But sometimes, you wonder if it will.
You know there is hope. Sometimes you believe it. Other times you don’t. It’s hard to trust in the light when all you see around is darkness.
But even when you can’t see, even when you can barely believe, you can still choose to trust.
I’m reminded of a song that has spoken to me during times like these. It’s called “Until.” I find these lines particularly poignant:
Until I see Your hand
Until I know Your heart
Until I trust the grace that’s carried me this far
I will be still, until
— Dave Clark and Mark Harris, “Until”
Can I say that and truly mean it? That’s the question each of us has to ask ourselves whenever we find ourselves in a season that doesn’t make sense.
Can we trust until we see God at work?
Not when.
Not after.
Until.
Oh, the depths of faith encompassed in that one word. Not only do we believe that God is working right now even though circumstances are contrary to what we hoped for, but we also believe that we will see a beautiful ending. We will see Him make something good out of this.
That’s the kind of faith that we know we need to have, but for many of us (including myself), we haven’t reached it yet. It takes time. It takes a willingness to grow and surrender ourselves to the Holy Spirit’s work in our hearts. And it takes trust.
When you find yourself in that space between before and after, remember: you might not see it yet, but the light is coming. Jesus is with you even now, holding you close and walking you through the storm. He will lead you all the way to the other side.




Words cannot describe how deeply this spoke to me in the season I am walking through. Thank you, Hannah Grace!
🤍 I’m grateful it encouraged you, Elizabeth.