When God Hands You a Promise… But It Doesn’t Come in the Package You Expected

Faith isn’t about perfect timing—it’s about trusting the promise, even when it comes wrapped in struggle.

Author: Kali Kay

from the pages of the — Dirty30Diaries

Have you ever prayed for something so hard—so consistently, so desperately—that when it finally showed up, you didn’t recognize it? Maybe you even got mad at God for it. My mom used to say, “Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.” My version? Be careful what you pray for—because God will give it to you. Just maybe not in the packaging you had in mind.

We all have this neat little Pinterest board in our heads of how we think our blessings should look. We imagine the job, the relationship, the healing, the breakthrough—all wrapped up in clean lines and perfect timing. But when it shows up looking like a DIY project from the worst episode of a home improvement show, we panic. We cry. We say, “Why me?” We question the very God we asked.

But here’s the truth:

You can’t get mad at God for giving you the very thing you asked for just because it didn’t come in the wrapping you wanted. Sometimes the promise looks like a process. Sometimes it looks like a mess. Sometimes it looks like a test.

Just ask the widow in 1 Kings 17.

She was down to her last handful of flour and a little oil. She was preparing to die with her son. And then Elijah shows up—sent by God—and asks her to make him a meal first. Can you imagine? She’s starving, grieving, hopeless, full of doubts… and here comes a prophet asking for her last bite.

Oh she has doubts, BUT she obeys. She trusts. She gives what little she has. And in return, God multiplies it. Her flour and oil never run out. Her household survives the famine. That was the promise. But it didn’t come in a gold box with a bow. It came in the form of a stranger asking for her last bit of hope.

And just when she thought she’d made it through, her son dies. Again, she’s devastated. Again, she questions. Again, she doubts- and is probably thinking what on earth is the point of all of this. But Elijah prays, and God restores the boy’s life. Another miracle. Another promise. Another moment that didn’t look like a blessing until it was.

That’s the thing about God’s promises—they often come disguised as inconvenience, discomfort, or even heartbreak. But if we trust Him in the middle of the processing… if we walk step by step, even when we’re in doubt… we’ll see the miracle unfold.

Today, I was that person. That very angry, very upset, very panicked person.

So naturally, I called on the two sources of wisdom that have never failed me—my mom and God.

And wouldn’t you know it, God handpicked the exact story I needed to hear at the exact moment I needed to hear it. My daily devotional told the story of a woman surrounded by doubt, trouble, and bleak circumstances. A woman asked to do the two things I am absolutely the worst at: trust someone else and give up my own doubt.

But isn’t that the whole point of faith? Faith is literally trusting that things will work—not by the hand of man, but by the hand of God.

You see --- Earlier this year, I asked God for a place to call home. A place where I could raise a family. And let me tell you—it came in the most unhinged packaging imaginable. That’s a story for another time. But the point is, I didn’t even recognize the blessing until later. I had a coworker, someone I’ve shared many deep talks with about life and faith, looked me dead in the eye and said, “You can’t get mad at God for giving you the very thing you asked for. You asked for it.”

I sat there dumbfounded. She was right.

Fast forward three months, and I’m praying again:

“God, please help me make this home mine. Help me start the next chapter of my life—with a husband, a family, and a future.”

And then—bam.

Government shutdown. No pay. Nothing. My landlords, unable to keep up with their mortgage without my rent, are forced to put the house on the market. My only option, if I don’t want to move again, is to buy it.

Thankfully, I have a military VA home loan. But I still called my mom bawling, asking, “Why me?” And in her calm, faith-filled way, she said, “We have time. You have to trust it’s going to work out. These are your next steps.”

She was right. Again.

After talking to her, I calmed down. I saw things more clearly. And I realized—this is why it’s so important to have the right people in your circle. People with faith. People with vision. People who can see past the panic and into the promise.

Like Elijah to the widow, my mom helped me see through the tears. She reminded me that God will always take my biggest trials and turn them into triumphs. He’ll take my tears and turn them into testimony.

So if you’re in the middle of your own mess—your own panic, your own “why me” moment—remember this: God’s promises don’t always come dressed for the party. Sometimes they show up in work boots, asking for your last ounce of faith.

And that’s where the real blessing begins.

A Prayer for the Promise in Process

Lord, I come to You with a heart that’s tired, a mind that’s racing, and hands that feel too empty to carry what You’ve placed in them. But I know You are not a God of confusion—you are a God of clarity, of peace, and of purpose.

Thank You for the promises You’ve spoken over my life, even when they come wrapped in uncertainty. Help me to trust You not just in the outcome, but in the steps. Teach me to lean into the process, even when it feels messy, even when it hurts, even when I don’t understand.

Give me the faith of the widow—the courage to give when I feel like I have nothing left, and the strength to believe that You will multiply what little I have. Surround me with people who speak life, who remind me of Your goodness, and who help me see the miracle in the middle of the mess.

God, I surrender my timeline, my expectations, and my fear. I choose to walk with You, step by step, knowing that You are faithful to complete what You’ve started. Turn my trials into triumphs, my tears into testimony, and my panic into peace.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

— Until Next Time, Kali Kay

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