I find myself once more in my makeshift car-office, laptop balanced and thoughts turning to the road behind and the path ahead. Seasons come when we pause and take stock. Life shifts. What once felt certain can change in a moment. The plans we trusted meet realities we never saw coming. My mind returns to those nine months in England, a season marked by hope and the pursuit of a new beginning.
When I sense purpose, I pursue it with all I have. In England, that meant searching for work each day; writing applications, taking odd jobs, and keeping ministry close. Life settled into a rhythm: work, errands, church on Sundays. The days blurred, but the longing for direction remained sharp.
Evenings brought a deeper ache. I missed my wife and children. Loneliness grows loud in the quiet. By then, I had sent out more than 200 applications. Some doors opened, most closed. Each new hope kept me moving forward. Months passed, six, then seven, then eight. Discouragement pressed in, but hope did not leave.
As South Africans, we understand the idea of vasbyt. It is that familiar instinct to grit your teeth and keep going when life becomes difficult. Perseverance is deeply admirable. Scripture itself speaks often about endurance. Yet another question has increasingly stayed with me:
Why do we sometimes continue down a road simply because we have already invested so much in it?
The more we give, the harder it is to turn back. Time, emotion, and words spoken in faith all weigh on us. Pride slips in quietly. Changing direction can feel like admitting failure. We feel pressure to prove our choices right, simply because we made them. That is not easy to confess.
My wife and I gave much for the hope of a new future. Distance from family, financial strain, and real hope all mingled together. Letting go after such a cost is never simple. In those moments, a familiar verse returned to me:
“The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps.”
Proverbs 16:9 (ESV)
I have preached this truth. I have shared it with others and seen it in my own life. Yet knowing a promise and living it are not the same. Nine months had passed.
A visit from my wife brought me to a pause. Somehow, my prevailing hope had become linked to the idea that her visit might change something. Instead, her two-week experience of the UK brought about a very different response and perspective from what I had expected. For a brief time, one flesh was physically together again, able to look at the reality before us and consider the outcomes and decisions together. I began to see the bigger picture. Changing course now needed honest thought.
The season in England had not been wasted. God had worked. Relationships formed, ministry doors opened, and I grew in ways I could not have from afar.
How do we make sense of a fruitful season that still ends? I have learned that discernment matters more than sheer determination. A path can be right for a time and still give way to another. God uses each chapter, but He also leads us on.
Romans 8:28 gives me confidence that God works through the circumstances of those who love Him according to His purpose. That confidence gives meaning to a season even when the direction changes. Looking back, I am increasingly comfortable admitting that my persistence may have contained more than one motive. There was sincere God-seeking. There was perseverance. And somewhere in the mixture there may also have been stubbornness. Perhaps maturity includes becoming willing to admit that.
We honour those who persevere. There is courage in holding on. But there is also courage in letting go and taking the next faithful step. Changing course does not erase the past. It lets us carry its lessons forward. I am grateful for those nine months. They shaped me, stretched me, and their value was never in their permanence.
We need to remember this: a sincere decision can still give way to a new one. A plan can serve its purpose, even if the destination changes. Sometimes, our need to prove the past right keeps us from hearing wisdom today.
I still believe in perseverance. I still believe in vasbyt. But I am learning that faithfulness also requires an open hand. Sometimes the courage we need is the courage to change course.
Jacques Munnik
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