Becoming the Woman Who Waits Well

“I want my Isaac, not my Ishmael.” That sentence has lived in my spirit for a little while now. 

Not because I think I’m above heartbreak. Not because I’m bitter. Not because I’m pretending my story didn’t shape me. But because I finally understand what happens when we try to fulfill promises in our own timing instead of trusting God’s.

(Quick little encouragement before you read this: if you have time, go read Genesis chapters 16 through 21 first. The story of Abraham, Sarah, Ishmael, and Isaac is the heartbeat behind everything I’m about to share, and understanding that story will give deeper context to this entire blog.)

Okay, let's continue shall we?

I think back to being 21 years old, deeply in love, hopeful, loyal, and convinced that love by itself could sustain a lifetime. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the context of covenant. I came from a family where marriage just wasn’t a thing. So when we first moved in together after dating for four months, I didn’t feel conviction about sex outside of marriage or shacking up. I mean we loved each other, right? Wasn’t that enough? Isn’t that how this happy relationship stuff works anyway? Was my thought process. And obviously, I wasn’t deeply discipled in that area yet. But right around the two year mark of living together, the Holy Spirit began to do what He does, and gently deal with me, personally. Slowly. Quietly. Until what once felt normal started feeling heavy, daily. And I remember the internal tension so clearly because I loved him deeply. Truly. But intimacy began to feel spiritually painful instead of peaceful because conviction had entered the room. Jesus was no longer just my Savior. He became my Lord. And when I'd ask my ex what his thoughts on marriage were, he'd be nonchalant with words like "why can't we just keep things as they are.." And with responses like such, I became torn.

At the time, I had sold my personal car that I had coming into the relationship, because he had bought me a vehicle. And I remember saying to the Lord, "if you provide a car for me, I'll for sure know you're telling me to leave, and I'll leave." Long story short, a good high school friend was a car dealer, so knowing he wouldn't try getting over on me, I went to apply for a vehicle with not so great credit and about $1000 saved for a downpayment. Hours of anticipation on whether I was going to be able to purchase my own vehicle or not passed, when my highschool friend came back into the waiting room from his office saying that I couldn't qualify, but that he truly felt a strong nudge from the Lord to co-sign for me. Something he said he wouldnt even do for family, but the prompt from God was that strong, and he felt like he just had to obey. I was shook, and had no idea how to respond. Nonetheless, he didn't allow me to say no due to the prompt, and an hour later pulls up in a beautiful luxury car that I didn't even choose.. with low miles and I felt I had no business driving. I drove off that lot fully hearing the Lord.. "Leave." So... with a heavy heart, I did the thing that shattered me. I left. Not because I stopped loving him. Not because he was evil. Not because I thought I was better than him. I left because I knew I obviously couldn't ignore what God was asking of me. Oh, how I remember cryingggg while packing my things. Crying while driving away. Crying while starting over in a completely different town.

I found a room to rent in an apartment with two other college aged girls. Got a job almost immediately. And somewhere in the middle of all that heartbreak, I genuinely believed obedience would cost me everything. But about six months later, right around the time my short lease was coming up, I get a call from a good friend who was pursuing her doctorates at the time, asking if I'd like to roommate with her at a home her dad owned there in the small city we lived in. However, ironically, at the same time, my ex also called asking me to return and marry him. Part of me thought maybe this was redemption. Maybe this was God restoring what we almost lost. So I turned down my friends invitation and I went back. We got married shortly after at a pocket park, in a very thrown together way, and a month later had a beach wedding where the only thing we could afford to pay for, outside of the cake and wedding officiant, was my bridesmaids pedicures. I always chose to chuckle about it and slap a "humble beginnings" sticker on that memory. But deep down, I dreamed of having a beautiful, warm wedding, well thought out and intentional wedding that no one knew I actually desired. Only God.

But.. let me be honest, I will absolutely say that there were so many beautiful parts of the marriage. I never want pain to make me dishonest about that. He loved me in many great ways. He protected me in many great ways. He provided for me in many great ways. But over time, I had to face something painful: Love alone is not the same thing as spiritual wholeness. And sometimes someone can genuinely love you while still being at war with parts of themselves they haven’t surrendered to God yet. That realization broke my heart more than I can explain. Because when you love someone deeply, you want healing for them almost as much as you want healing for yourself. But eventually, the fruit of unresolved battles revealed itself in ways that broke my heart, and my trust for him… more than once. And somewhere along the way, I began realizing something I didn’t have language for when I was younger: Our marriage began with striving. Not manipulation. Not malicious intent. Not lack of love. Just two young people trying to force timing before either of us fully understood covenant, identity, healing, or spiritual maturity. And I think that’s why the story of Abraham, Sarah, Ishmael, and Isaac hits me so deeply now.

Because Ishmael wasn’t born from evil intentions. He was born from impatience. From human reasoning. From trying to fulfill a promise outside of God’s timing. And honestly? I think many of us have created Ishmaels in different areas of our lives. Relationships we forced. Doors we chased. People we clung to because waiting felt unbearable. But God had Isaac in mind all along. Not a counterfeit. Not a rushed version of promise. Not survival disguised as love. A covenant.

I’ll never forget one specific dream I had during the season of separation and prayer while trying to discern whether I should choose divorce, or choose to stay after the breach of trust… again. In the dream, I was preparing for a vow renewal. And I was presented with two dresses by what seemed to be an angel. One of the dresses was the exact dress I wore on my pocket park wedding day in real life.. simple, inexpensive, cute and comfortable. The kind of dress nobody would know only cost twenty dollars from Ross Dress for Less, unless I told them. The other dress was completely different. Something I've never seen. It was heavy. Elegant. Detailed. Costly.

It carried weight. Beautiful jeweled mesh sleeves. Silk fabric. A perfect length train. And somehow in the dream, I understood the question being asked without the angel saying it out loud: Will you choose what is comfortable… or what carries glory? And what shook me most is that the first dress wasn’t ugly. That’s what made the decision difficult. However, comfortable isn’t always covenant. And easy isn’t always eternal. It would have been easy to stay. Build trust, and truly believe that God would restore my marriage… for the second time.

But sometimes God lovingly interrupts what we settled for because He knows we were created for deeper peace than that. So now, in this season of my life, I’ve made a decision: I do not want Ishmael. I don’t want relationships born from fear of loneliness. I don’t want love I have to force into alignment. I don’t want confusion disguised as passion. I don’t want to beg or have to leave in order for someone to recognize my value. I want the kind of love that arrives in peace. The kind where a man already knows who he is in Christ before he ever finds me. The kind where leadership feels safe. Where honesty exists without coercion. Where faithfulness is natural fruit, not forced performance. Where I don’t have to abandon myself to feel chosen. And I want to be that kind of woman too. A woman healed enough to receive healthy love. A woman soft without being weak. A woman submitted to God enough to walk away from what looks good if He says it is not meant for me. Because I finally understand this: Isaac carries legacy. And legacy requires preparation. So if waiting means I receive what God truly intended instead of what my loneliness tried to make happen, then I’ll wait. Not passively. Not bitterly. But becoming. And maybe somewhere tonight, while I’m praying for the man God has for me, he’s praying too. Praying for wisdom. Praying for discipline. Praying to become the kind of man who can carry covenant gently, until death do us part. And maybe God is smiling already, knowing two people are slowly being refined for a love neither of them will have to force. Not rushed. Not manipulated. Not survival-based. Divinely written. Because after everything we survived, I still believe God writes beautiful love stories.

So if you’re reading this in the middle of heartbreak, confusion, waiting, disappointment, or even questioning whether you missed God entirely, here’s what I hope you know: You are not behind. You are not less valuable because someone failed to honor you correctly. And you do not have to force what God truly intends for your life. I know waiting can feel lonely sometimes. I know obedience can feel expensive.I know walking away from what is familiar can feel like grief. But peace is worth protecting. Your spirit is worth protecting.And the future generations connected to your obedience are worth protecting too. Not every closed door is punishment. Sometimes it is protection.

Not every delay is rejection. Sometimes God is developing in private what will be sustainable in public. And not every relationship that ends was meaningless. Some people teach us love. Some teach us discernment. Some reveal wounds we didn’t know we had. Some show us what we will never again abandon ourselves to tolerate. There is purpose in all of it. So heal slowly. Forgive honestly. Let God refine your desires instead of hardening your heart. And please do not confuse loneliness with urgency. You do not need to rush into what God already knows how to bring to you in the right season. What is truly for you will not require you to betray your convictions, silence your discernment, or abandon your peace to keep it alive.

And maybe the waiting season is not punishment at all. Maybe it’s preparation. Maybe God is teaching you how to recognize covenant instead of chaos. Maybe He’s showing you that healthy love will feel less like anxiety… and more like coming home. So, beloved... I ask as someone who cares for every reader who made it this far... please, choose healing. Choose wisdom. Choose wholeness. Choose obedience even when it hurts. And trust that what God writes will always carry more peace than anything we try to force ourselves. Isaac is still worth waiting for. And trust me, I’m preaching to myself… because I’m right here with you, Love. 

Your girl, Brand