The Impact You Cannot Measure

“He had sent a man ahead of them, Joseph, who was sold as a slave. His feet were hurt with fetters; his neck was put in a collar of iron, until what he had said came to pass; the word of the Lord tested him.” Psalm 105:17 to 19 ESV. Some seasons feel quiet and hidden, yet God still forms His purposes in the unseen.

The impact that draws no applause

When we think of impact, we picture platforms, crowds, or titles. We imagine momentum that everyone can see.

Yet God often works in places the world overlooks. A quiet conversation after church. A costly act of help. A friendship that endures when it would be easier to walk away.

This calling is not reserved for pastors or leaders. Every believer is sent to love, to serve, to disciple, and to bear Christ’s name wherever God has placed them.

Much of this impact will never be measured by people. But heaven sees what is hidden.

A friendship God arranged

Recently, after church, I spent time with an English friend. Our friendship began late last year, and from the beginning, I sensed God shaping a path of discipleship and counsel between us.

When we first met, he was emerging from a long season of isolation, feeling torn from his church family. Since April 2025, he had lived in his car, carrying the ache of abandonment and confusion.

He loved God, yet he wrestled to understand how his journey had led him there.

In the Lord’s kindness, our paths crossed with purpose. He stayed a few nights at the church flat where I live, and we shared a long day on the road as I helped him move his belongings from one place to another.

That day was more than a task. It opened a window into a story marked by sorrow, endurance, and hope.

As I listened, I recognised a familiar pattern.

A Joseph-like waiting room.

The Joseph-like waiting room

Psalm 105 describes Joseph’s suffering with stark honesty. Scripture does not sanitise the story. It tells us his feet hurt with fetters, and that iron touched his neck.

Then it tells us something even more searching. The Lord tested him.

And then it gives the timing that matters.

Until.

Until what he had said came to pass. Until the Lord brought the word to fulfilment.

That single word has carried me more than once. It tells me God can place purpose on a timeline that does not match our expectations, whilst still remaining perfectly faithful.

Joseph did not drift through his waiting. He endured it. He stayed tender. He kept his integrity when nobody rewarded it. He served when it felt pointless, and he honoured God when his life looked reduced to survival.

God did not waste that season.

God used it to form Joseph, and God used Joseph within it.

This truth has struck me afresh in this season in the UK.

Unseen work in a visible winter

Five months ago, I arrived in the UK with a clear sense of assignment and a heavy load of responsibility. I have sought open doors for work to steady my life and prepare for my family’s next steps. That search has meant relentless job hunting and many disappointments.

This season has taught me something about waiting. Waiting often looks like stewardship, not stagnation. Job seeking fills your days with research, applications, follow-ups, and setbacks. It tests your heart as much as your resolve.

Alongside this, the Lord has helped me build EvangelisSphere into a fuller home for online ministry. He has broadened my work through counselling, pastoral care, and discipleship. Much of it remains unseen, but it is real work, real obedience, and real love offered in ordinary places.

I have also learned what long-distance parenting requires. You do not switch off the responsibilities of fatherhood when geography changes. You carry the emotional weight, the decisions, the worry, and the longing, even when you are far away.

Under that pressure, I have battled the quiet voice of impostor syndrome. When doors remain closed, the mind whispers accusations.

You have no authority here. You have nothing to offer. You should wait until your life looks impressive again.

Yet the Lord keeps challenging those lies with a gentler, stronger truth.

He does not measure impact the way people do.

He measures faithfulness. He measures obedience. He measures love. He measures the quiet yes that costs you something.

Two months can change everything

Two months after that long day on the road, my friend and I met again. I saw a quiet transformation that led me to worship.

He no longer lived in his car. He had rejoined the church. He spoke with more steadiness, more clarity, more hope. I could hear the fruit of the Spirit in his words.

He shared breakthroughs, and then he ministered to me. He encouraged me. He strengthened me. He reminded me of God’s faithfulness with words that felt sincere, anchored, and Spirit-given.

As I listened, something settled in my heart.

God had used me in my waiting.

Not in the way I would have planned. Not through a title. Not through a crowded room. But through friendship, presence, practical help, and steady discipleship.

This is the impact that cannot be measured.

And it matters deeply to God.

God weaves tapestries, not headlines

That friendship reminded me how God weaves the tapestry of our lives.

He connects lives across time, cultures, and cities. He brings someone into your path, not because you feel strong, but because He displays His strength through your weakness.

He lets you walk through your own hard season, then uses the compassion formed there to strengthen another. Sometimes you meet someone and realise God has been writing both stories side by side.

You carry different details, but you share the same lesson.

You do not control the story. But you can trust the Author.

When your life feels reduced, God still works

When I answered the call to full-time ministry more than a decade ago, I did not expect a season that felt like a desert.

I did not imagine a waiting room in the middle of a UK winter, far from my family. I did not expect to preach the Gospel back to my own heart, not from a pulpit, but from a quiet room after another email rejection.

Yet God has continued to bring me back to this truth.

The impact that people cannot measure may be the very impact God has chosen for this season.

Joseph did not choose his pit, his slavery, or his prison. Yet God chose to work there. Your season may look unimpressive, but God does not despise hidden obedience.

He often does His deepest work where you feel least seen.

What the waiting produces

Waiting can produce bitterness or maturity. The difference often comes down to what you believe about God while you wait.

If you believe God withholds goodness, waiting will harden you. If you believe God forms you for goodness, waiting will refine you.

Psalm 105 says the word of the Lord tested Joseph. God tested him, not to destroy him, but to prove and strengthen what God had planted in him.

In the same way, God does not waste your season. He uses delay to deepen your character. He uses obscurity to purify your motives. He uses disappointment to teach you endurance.

He uses loneliness to teach you how to pray.

He uses limited resources to teach you trust.

This does not make the waiting easy.

It makes it meaningful. It gives your ordinary obedience weight.

Encouragement for the stuck season

If your life, your walk, your influence, or your sense of purpose has looked small for a while, let me speak hope to you.

You may feel stuck. You may feel forgotten. You may feel as if you contribute nothing of weight.

Yet Scripture tells a different story.

God finishes what He starts. Philippians 1:6 anchors that promise. God works all things for good for those who love Him and walk in accordance with His purpose. Romans 8:28 anchors that promise.

Those truths do not remove pain, but they give pain a place to go. They give it meaning in the hands of a faithful Father.

Your obedience matters, even when no one notices. Your prayer matters, even when no one hears it. Your kindness matters, even when no one thanks you.

Your consistency matters, even when it looks as if nothing changes.

The Lord sees the impact you cannot measure. He calls it precious.

A quiet invitation

Ask yourself one honest question.

Where might God already be using you, even if you feel as if you are still waiting for your real season to begin?

The answer may not sound impressive. It might sound like a friendship, a conversation, a practical act of service, or simply showing up when you feel tired. It might sound like holding faith when it feels thin.

Do not despise that. God often builds His strongest work on ordinary obedience. Waiting often looks just like that.

Joseph’s story did not end in prison. Yours will not end in the waiting room.

Until.

Jacques Munnik