Paused, Not Canceled

I did not like my 2024 word for the year. Thankfully, my 2025 word is more upbeat.

It has been a long time since you have heard from me. Months of silence. No emails in the inbox. No social media posts. No website updates. Nothing. It's not a great plan for investing in others through the power of words. After all, if words are not written and shared then words cannot be read or ingested.

To be fair, I do not believe you were waiting on my emails. I am not sure my absence in a world skilled at creating and making noise was missed. Maybe it even relieved some guilt. One less automated email to delete.

I’ve been blundering through lately, holding to the strands of a dream that I feel is unraveling. Grasping the last bit of hope that there is still time, still a future ahead, still something ready to give in or breakthrough.

From the perspective of the human, it looks bleak. Dried up. The dream has derailed and the damage is catastrophic, not even worth trying to salvage the pieces.

Yet, I know what the Lord said. He made a way for me to write and publish my book God’s Big Ask and opened space and finances to launch Carissa Writes. I undoubtedly know He has placed inside me gifts to speak, teach, write, and create. I do not question the existence of such gifts, but I have begun to doubt their influence and reachability.

My word for 2024 was: pause.

Like every word of the year for me, I have no idea how it will unfold into the crevices of my practical and spiritual life. I sure try to guess the script at the start of the year, but I have found my guesses are goose chases and I wildly miss the mark. Every year though, the given word routinely saturates the ebbs and flow of small details and the big picture. Pause was no different.

Multiple strands of my life came to a halt, a pause. Most notable, was the writing pause. I tried to write but I ran up against so many proverbial walls. I had computer difficulties, I misplaced a writing notebook, I wasn’t able to sit at my desk without one of my kids exploding, childcare during my writing time became impossible to find, and when I did get something “on the page” it ended up in the unpublishable file (for several reasons). Most people stopped asking me about the book, only one church called for me to speak at conferences (even though there had been other inquiries), and my website had an unknown broken link and stopped directing people through my email, etc.

To further illustrate my point, in May of 2024, I had the privilege of speaking at a women’s conference near Fresno. It was an amazing time and I walked away blessed and impressed by the church’s ministry to young women, especially. Afterward, I wrote a thank you card and sent it to the church. A week or so later, it was back in my mailbox as undeliverable. I checked the address and confirmed it, re-wrote a new envelope, and sent it off again, only to receive it back, undeliverable. Even a thank you letter became impossible.

That’s how I felt multiple things in life went this past year. Every step I took forward was met with rejection, silence, disappointment, or angst. So, I paused. And I thought. I prayed. I wept. And I am still trying to make sense of it all.

Here is what I do know:

I have a strong desire to write and I feel called to use my gifts in ministry, for His glory.
God pushed the pause button this past year. I reluctantly submitted.
I do not know what my writing or speaking future looks like. I have no prophetic word or clear vision to cling to.
I only want to do what God provides. I do not want to force or coerce anything. He knows exactly what I and my family need and I choose not to usurp that by demanding control.

Pause does not inherently mean stop. Instead, it provides breathing room to examine, rest, listen, and obey. Sometimes stop is easier because there is a finality to it while pause feels like this stubborn dateless, endless nothingness. While in my perpetual pause, I found God faithfully speaking to me through Scripture about the role of pause in the unfolding of the dream.

Joseph was a boy in the Old Testament who had dreams. His were the type of dreams that were prophetic; dreams which foretold the future, specifically his future of wealth and great stature. He, unwisely, shared these dreams with his jealous brothers and it didn’t fare well for him. Although God had gifted Joseph, from the human perspective, he seemed arrogant. So his dreams assured him a one-way ticket to slavery in Egypt. And a lot of years passed. These dreams which had been given and declared appeared to be voided or canceled.

Hannah, a barren woman in the Old Testament, had hopeful dreams about carrying and producing life. She faithfully showed up at the place of Shiloh to sacrificially give to the Lord. The same trek for years, on repeat, without any proof of change or advancement. She wept and prayed and faced ridicule and scorn and a lot of years passed. She had displayed unwavering hope but her body clock was suggesting this hope for life was voided or canceled.

David was a young shepherd in the Old Testament. In the field, one has a lot of time to think. Who knows what he was dreaming about? Maybe a shower? But one day, he was pulled off the field and perfumed with oil, a prophet declaring David as the future king of Israel. What a hope for one’s future! Yet, a lot of years passed. He circled sheep and then caves and then wildernesses and this calling, this proclamation of royalty appeared to be voided or canceled.

The Word of God illustrates another hundred similar stories of faithful men and women who believed what God had said even though their circumstances were saying something different. From the perspective of the human, it looked bleak. How could a slave in Egypt eventually be the second in command? And how could a woman with a barren womb conceive and birth the prophet who would eventually anoint the small shepherd boy? How could that shepherd boy find himself anointed, yet then hunted for his life, only to eventually end up as King of Israel?

This is where I sat in 2024. In a pile of stories, mine included, with many arrows pointing toward nothing. These eyes do not see tomorrow’s road, let alone the road five years from here.

Joseph’s eyes did not foresee the road out of the dungeon. He saw cramped quarters and bare walls, in captivity for thirteen years.

Hannah did not foresee the birth of Samuel. She saw tear-stained hands and monthly reminders of an empty womb, year after year.

David did not foresee the throne room. He saw armies chasing him, attempting to fulfill the bounty on his head, and he ran for thirteen years.

And I do not foresee what is up ahead or how many years it will take. However, it appears that dreams are not manufactured overnight or even in a few years. It looks like the godly dreamers have years of pause, while they wait on the Lord. The godly dreamers do not control their destiny; rather, they release the storyline to the Creator, the most creative being. He moves pieces and people across time, as a skilled puzzle crafter, and showcases the very best, the most vibrant, and perfectly timed dream come true. When the dream makes the most impact, when it lines up to meet the right need, when it brings people together, when it builds healing bridges, when it cannot be attributed to an algorithm or cultural trend, and when it relies entirely on the work of the Holy Spirit → that is when the godly dreamers see the dream come to fruition.

Now, in 2025, with the delivery of this blog post, is my season of pause complete? I am in deep prayer about this. Maybe you will join me in prayer? I know my writing gift has not be canceled or voided and I believe God will open the right doors at the right time. In the meantime, the human part of me struggles with some of the practical, tangible, and financial implications of pausing or waiting. I believe these challenges compete for my attention, distracting me from what God is doing in the space between my obedience to Him and the fullness of His plans.

Maybe you are there yourself; same struggles with a different storyline. Let me know how I can pray for you, my friend. An encouragement to both of us (all of us): pause eventually gets unpaused and the wait eventually ends. Here’s to holding on to Jesus in the space between!

Until next time, my friend—