What do we do when the answer is “not yet” and “no”?
What do we do when the answer is “not yet” and “no”?
There is a before and after to every good story.
A before and after to every spoken prayer.
A before and after to every testimony that makes the hair stand up on our arms.
It’s the part where faith is literally made, purified, and built. It’s the part when we can’t see, but we believe it anyway. It’s the part when Moses didn’t know the red seas would part, but he walked forward anyway. It’s the part when David looked at his slingshot, then looked at Goliath, and fought him anyway. It’s the part when Ruth left everything she knew not knowing her Boaz was around the corner and worked hard in the field anyway.
Testimony builds faith. Every testimony enhances our faith and infuses life into the very things we are dry in. We need them.
But testimonies are often five minutes long shared over coffee and comfort with those we love. Or in a crowd that cheers when God’s goodness is evident. When His faithfulness is drawn with a straight, crisp line from the breakdown to the breakthrough. A clear map from the problem to passage. We get to the beautiful, hope-filled answer on warped speed.
But can I tell you, that is not how it actually happens…
That line was not that crisp, that clear, or that clean
It was a zig zagged, unclear, painful mess. Not like the map from Dora the Explorer with three cute steps to get to X marks the spot and a happy singing monkey to encourage you along the way.
It was winding. And weaving. It went uphill, then downhill, then uphill again. For a while. Not overnight. It took an unexpected turn, or a few dozen. Then just when you thought it was ending it took a sharp left and went around one more loop. When you started screaming and pleaded to the nice carnival man who took your ticket to please let you off this ride.
I want this story to serve as a reminder that the end of the story often doesn’t, nearly never, comes that fast.
It’s beautiful to see the full circle moment, but we must remember to slow down, pause and tune into the part that got us there. We don’t marinate long enough on the “not yet” part of the story. And I want to give that part the respect it deserves. Let’s sit here a little while.
Because this is the part of the story where gold is refined, warriors are made, and hearts are purified. And this is where most of us are, most of the time.
We are either going into a battle, in a battle, or coming out of a battle. And I would put money on the fact that the “in the battle part” takes up a proportionately higher percentage than the rest of the other seasons.
This is the place we earn our crowns.
During the season with the dark nights, the unanswered prayers, the deafening silence, and the tears so hard it turned to physical pain. The season with the doubts that made you question whether you were still even really saved. The season with the anger that made you feel like a guilty hypocrite. The season with the persistence and the prayer to press on one more day and one more moment. Then finally, finally, finally you saw a ray of sunlight, that made you squint so hard because you hadn’t seen anything so bright for so long. Your eyes had to adjust again to what was normal and good. That my friend, is the part of the testimony story I want to talk about.
How dare we skip over this part.
We can’t. We won’t.
Meet Isabella Johnson (Bella). The girl that refused to stop when everything was against her. When her answer was “not yet.” When her answer still to this day is “no.” Her battle lasted much longer than she ever expected, over half of her young life. Starting as a 10-year-old girl and now over a decade later, she is still fighting.
Sometimes the five-minute testimonies can glamorize what God does in process. Testimonies are wonderful, and we need them, and they should spread like wildfire. But we must remember that often the platform in which they are shared from require the five-minute highlights. But we cannot forget that every story has behind the scenes, unedited, adult content, not rated yet footage. I implore you, remember this, so the enemy doesn’t have space in your head to taunt you with, “It was easy for them. They got their miracle. See. But not for you.” Please.
So be encouraged, you whose answer is “not yet” and “no.” If it has not come to pass in the way you prayed. The healing never happened, the finances never came through, the child was never born.
What do we do then? As charismatic believers following a miracle performing Jesus.
When our rubber of faith, comes to a screeching, burning, smelly halt. When we have prayed on our knees, believed with our whole heart, fasted for days, and praised Him in the storm. What do we do when we are still sitting beside an empty hospital bed, an empty nursery, or an empty marriage?
Bella’s answer was not what she prayed for. She prayed for healing. She prayed to walk again. But her answer was…no you still cannot walk.
Maybe you never will.
Bella had to look into the heart of God and say, now what? So, she looked at all the yes’s God gave her instead.
Yes, He is still faithful.
Yes, He still loves her.
Yes, He still has a purpose for her life and for this pain.
Yes, He is still working.
Yes, He is still for me and not against me.
Yes, He is still working all things together for her good.
Yes, He is still providing abundantly above all she can ask or imagine.
Yes, He is still answering her.
Maybe not the way she saw her life going. Maybe not the way she had hoped for. But God is answering her prayers.
The unanswered “Bella prayer,” instead became the answered “God prayer.”
When Bella was 10-years-old. She got sick. Really sick. The kind of sick that took her out of school and made her go from hospital to hospital seeking a diagnosis and a treatment. The kind of sick that put her in a wheelchair, ostracized her from her friends, and made her question whether God even loved her.
Bella was a gymnast and one day at camp, she landed awkwardly from a vault. This awakened the chronic excruciating pain that moved into paralysis. The chiropractor said it was spondylolysis and the sports orthopedic confirmed the fracture in her vertebrae. Her pain continued to worsen, and the specialists scratched their heads. Her pain level was not matching her injury. Nothing made it better. Her ankle pain moved to knee pain, then to hip pain and neck pain. Consuming her body, she lay on the floor in agony.
All she wanted was relief. But the answer was “not yet.” Where was her miracle? Where was her healing? Heck, we could have even settled for a diagnosis and treatment Lord.
With countless hospital stays, and painful dark nights, Bella was eventually diagnosed with Amplified Musculoskeletal Pain Syndrome (or RSD). She joined multiple RSD therapy programs and pushed to extreme limits to get better. She watched other kids get better, but she only got worse. Her soul was crushed. She was losing hope.
She was in the “not yet.”
Her pain turned neurological, and she suffered seizures. Her stomach was attacked, and she couldn’t eat or drink. At the same time her family was under cruel attack. Her Dad was interrogated for abuse. Her Mom was accused of making Bella’s condition worse by being too close to her. They were separated and couldn’t even see each other for a month.
She was in the “not yet.”
Bella was accused of not liking her newly adopted siblings, having an eating disorder, and making all this up to gain attention from her parents. Ouch. Insult to injury has a whole new meaning.
She was in the “not yet.”
Bella turned 13, then 14, then 15 and celebrated her sweet 16th birthday still in the “not yet.”
Bella laid in her hospital bed asking, “Why does God hate me? I know deep down He could heal me if He wanted to, so why isn’t He?”
Bella’s mother lay in her own bed, asking those very same questions, “God why do you hate me? I know you can heal her. Why don’t you?”
They were in the “not yet.”
Bella’s mom pleaded to her own Dad, “Where is God? He is supposed to be close to the broken hearted and I don’t feel Him at all.”
With resolve, her wise father answered, “He said He is close, so He is. He is God and He does not lie.”
Bella’s Mom felt the resoluteness of her faith rise. Small but firm. This truth rose in her spirit: “If you give up on God, then you will truly have nothing.” Then there really was no hope. “Just because you don’t feel Him, doesn’t mean He’s not there. He is working a greater purpose and making us into something different.”
In the “not yet,” they clung to what they did not see or feel. They believed He was still close.
Bella was finally diagnosed with Lyme Disease and given courses of IV antibiotics. The neurological symptoms slowly subsided. But her lower back pain remained. They found a surgeon to remove nerves in her back and do nerve decompression surgeries on her legs, and after nine years of leg paralysis, Bella moved her toes. Then her foot.
An answered prayer. Still in the “not yet.”
She began aqua physical therapy that began to improve her movements. She could sit up straight again. On November 1st, 2019, Bella stood up, for the very first time in over nine years. She was on the parallel bars, with a lot of assistance from her physical therapist, but Bella stood on her own two feet.
An answered prayer. Still in the “not yet.”
Bella’s mom prayed the bravest and boldest prayer a parent could. A prayer of surrender, “God, you are going to have to answer the spiritual questions for her. Bring her back to you.” The love of God did bring Bella back. Bella says today, “I don’t know how God brought me back, but He did. And my faith grew and was stronger than ever before.” We know how.
From a mother’s answered prayer. Still in the “not yet” season.
Remember, that five-minute testimony is not the end of the story and it’s not even the full story. All you hear are the highlights and the perfect edges and crisp corners. But remember that behind every one of those are the muddy bloody unanswered prayers, the nights of doubts, and the questions that they still struggle with today. The PTSD they are still working through and the unforgiveness they are still harboring. No testimony is clean.
It is rugged.
It is messy.
It is broken.
But that’s what makes it beautiful.
Remember that yours is too. And you don’t have to wait until it’s perfect to praise God and to share it. Secret is out enemy- the story will never be perfect. And it rarely ever looks the way we thought it should. But thank God we serve a God who knows more than us and better than us.
God doesn’t work in perfection; He works in process.
The enemy wants to keep you stuck in the unanswered prayer. In the “Why not me Lord?”
But God is calling you, rising you, and challenging you to instead ask, “WHY me Lord?” Because you were created with the faith to sustain the trial you are in. Rise up.
He is saying, look at what I DID answer. Look at what I DID give you. Look at the grace I DID sustain you with. Look at how I kept you.
I imagine God giving us a head nod. To the next fighter He puts in the ring. To the next set of troops He sends out. The boots on the ground. With a look that says, “Son, Daughter, I know you can handle it.”
Bella would argue that for every prayer she didn’t have answered, God still responded.
She is still in a wheelchair to this day. She still fights chronic pain. She still has limits and obstacles daily. Some would argue she is still in her “not yet” or even “no” part of her story. But Bella sees it differently. She sees all the yes’s God gave her. She is a 22-year-old beautiful, confident, strong woman of God who’s faith as persevered. She is smack dab in the center of her calling. God answers prayers.
Today that woman is making giant strides for the Kingdom of God. Bella lost her ability to write but birthed Live to Inspire Art to produce and sell inspiring artwork. Bella lost her ability to walk but reaches more people than ever as she shares her journey to over 5,000 Instagram followers. Bella lost friends but gained more family and support than she could have fathomed. Out of everything she gave to God, He made something beautiful.
Today, Bella says she must trust God’s timing. The Johnsons moved to Ocean City, New Jersey to be closer to her therapy. Bella is now an adaptive athlete, a part of a wheelchair basketball team and crushing adaptive surfing. Just in October 2021 she learned how to drive with hand controls. She’s taking college courses locally. She just held her first two art shows in the summer of 2021. Bella is enrolled in Project Walk and progressing with new therapy. Bella forgave those who wrongly accused her. Bella covered with grace the kids that didn’t understand. Bella speaks with mercy about those who separated her family.
The family pressed on. In the “not yet” part of the story, the Johnson’s continued to pursue God’s vision for them. They opened an orphanage in South Africa. They adopted an 18-year-old boy in 2017, and in 2018, the 16-year-old boy that Bella’s parents met during adoption in Ghana was finally granted a Visa to join their family.
The “not yet” part of the story and the miracle can coexist. At times they blend in a blurry beautiful snow flurry of - I don’t understand, it doesn’t look like what I wanted it, AND yet my God is still good. My God is still faithful. My God is still answering my prayers.
Bella is in the victory. She proves it every single day. This girl lives from a place of victory. Goodness and mercy follow her. She laughs at the future. Bella is the epitome of what we do when we are in the “not yet” and the “no” part of our testimony. You are not alone.
Don’t let the enemy take every great story, testimony and praise report on Instagram and twist it to tell you, “See it worked out for them.” Don’t let him lie to you with, “YOU are the only one God doesn’t hear. You will never get your beautiful ending tied up in a bow.”
So, what do we do in the “not yet” and the “no”?
To be completely honest, first we cry hard and ugly. We scream and yell, we ask the questions, we lay on the carpet, we sit on the shower floor, we say things to our loved ones we wished we hadn’t, we storm out of the house. We let it out.
But then…we rise.
We speak to what we know.
We declare what the Word says.
We speak out what we do not yet see.
We praise God for what is true, for God’s character and goodness.
We cling to a faithful God.
We fight.
We praise God anyway.
Bella still dreams to walk again on her own. She dreams to be a social worker or a physical therapist to advocate for those that feel silenced, misunderstood, in pain, and hopeless like she was. She dreams to tell other women and teens, “I understand, and it’s okay to feel angry at God. It’s okay to not understand. He can take it.”
There is a before and after to every good story.
Every testimony starts like this….
This horrible thing happened.
I didn’t know if I was going to make it.
I prayed.
But then, there is only one ending.
He answered. And He will always answer.
So please, let’s not skip over the “not yet” part of the story. That’s the good stuff.