When God Changes Your Word Mid-Year: Becoming the Person God is Building

The elephants moved like gray mountains against the African horizon, relaxed, majestic, and ancient. As our van sat quietly in Addo Elephant Park, something shifted. For the first time in months—maybe years—I wasn’t documenting, strategizing, or producing. I was simply… there.

That whole trip had been a masterclass in unhurried hospitality. Our Afrikaner hosts spread feast after feast despite their own struggles. Meals stretched for hours. No one rushed. And I—perpetual producer—did something I rarely do: I received.

Then came the whisper: “Your word isn’t believe anymore. It’s more.”

When “Believe” Becomes a Burden

Since January 2024—19 months and counting—believe has been my battle cry. But through my achievement-driven lens, believing meant stacking new habits, saying yes to every opportunity, and pushing harder to manifest God’s promises. If faith without works is dead, I reasoned, then surely more works meant more faith. So, believing morphed into doing ALL THE THINGS: book releases, courses, movement launches, speaking engagements, and podcast interviews. My days blurred with divine assignments I barely had time to enjoy.

As someone who teaches about God’s Creative Process for rebuilding lives, I’d ironically gotten stuck in perpetual “production” mode—skipping the very restoration phase I help others embrace. Here’s the uncomfortable truth: I was so busy believing God for more that I had no space to receive it. My faith had started to feel frantic—my belief, a burden.

A Memory That Reframed Everything

After my husband Reggie died in 2011, a cousin told me about the loss that nearly destroyed her—her first husband’s death to cancer. In her grief, God whispered a startling truth: “It was never about you; it was always about him.” God knew He was going to take her husband, and God wanted him to experience joy before that—and she was that joy.

She realized she had been a specific gift in a story God was writing for her husband. That resonated deeply because Reggie introduced me as his gift from God. And I realized I’d been so focused on what his death took from me that I’d missed what our love had given him—four years of being deeply known, cherished, and celebrated.

She told me that God sent her to tell me the same thing—and that He had “more” for me.

In South Africa, that memory returned with new force. What if my relentless producing wasn’t about me either? What if, in all my kingdom-building, I’d forgotten to enjoy being the King’s daughter?

Safari as Sacred Pause

The next day’s safari became holy ground. As elephants gathered at a watering hole, a hush fell. No camera in my hands. No content to create. No strategies forming. Just wonder at God’s creation moving at heaven’s pace.

I have “more” for you, the Spirit impressed. And this is “more.” Presence over production. Being overbuilding.

That evening, a teammate asked, “How will you be different when you return home?” The answer rose before I could edit it: I’ll be expecting more—without doing more. Elephants don’t strive to be magnificent; they simply are.

Redefining “More”

God began rewriting my definition in real time.

1. More isn’t more activity—it’s more depth in fewer things.
2. More isn’t more initiatives—it’s more impact through focused intention.
3. More isn’t more striving—it’s more surrender to His timing.

As leaders and kingdom builders, we often mistake motion for progress, producing for believing. But God’s “more” requires space—space to receive what He’s already prepared, space to be surprised by His methods, space to let Him work beyond our strategic plans.

I sensed the gentlest correction: God has more for me without me having to do more. The abundance I chased through productivity was waiting in the pause. My “more” wasn’t about expanding my reach but deepening my roots—not about proving my faith through work but receiving His gifts through rest.

3 Invitations For Your Own Becoming

If you’re caught between believing and becoming, consider these sacred shifts:

1. Audit Your Striving: Each morning this week, identify one specific area where you’re striving instead of receiving. Write it down. Ask God: “What would ‘more’ look like here if I stopped producing and started receiving?” That frantic energy you call faith might be the very thing blocking your breakthrough. I realized I’d been stuck in the “execution” phase of my own framework without allowing space for God’s restoration work in me.
2. Practice Expectancy: Each morning this week, pray specifically: “Lord, give me more wisdom in waiting, more grace in today’s challenges, more joy in simple moments.” Journal one way you see Him answer. Schedule one hour this week to simply be—no agenda, no productivity goal, just presence.
3. Open to New Blueprints: Permit God to change your word, your pace, and your plans mid-year. Divine course corrections aren’t failures; they’re invitations into a story bigger than the one you wrote for yourself. If you sense a shift, write down your “before” word and your “after” word. Share it with one trusted friend who can help you live into the change.

Two Simple Practices to Start Today

1. Five-Minute Abide: Before the day sprints away, sit with a short Scripture and breathe a one-sentence prayer: “Lord, more of You, less of me.”
2. One Boundary for Peace: Choose one boundary this week (phone down at dinner, a protected morning quiet, a no-work Sabbath hour). Guard it as an act of trust.

Becoming the Slow and Holy Way

As the African sun set behind those ancient elephants, I realized becoming isn’t self-improvement; it’s Spirit-led transformation. That hush echoed Paul’s promise that “The Lord—who is the Spirit—makes us more and more like him” (2 Corinthians 3:18, NLT). He finishes what He starts (Philippians 1:6). Our part is to remain available, aligned, and unhurried enough to notice His work.

Maybe you chose a word this year that’s become a burden. Maybe your faith feels frantic and your calling heavy. Friend, God’s mid-year redirects aren’t disappointments; they’re love notes. They move us from doing to being, from proving to receiving, from constructing to connecting.

I think back to that watering hole, where provision meets those who simply show up. The elephants remind me: the Source sustains those who stop long enough to drink.

For those of us rebuilding after loss or navigating major transitions, becoming isn’t about believing harder—it’s about expecting differently. It’s about trusting that the God who authors our stories is still writing, still working, still offering more than we could produce on our own.

What word might God be exchanging for yours in this season? Are you willing to release the one you picked so you can receive the more He intends?