“When God Says 'Pack' But Not 'Go'”

Girl in hat with storage totes.

What Was the Point of All This?

When your house is packed, your office is boxed, and your soul just wants to breathe.

It started with a bathroom renovation and a few cardboard boxes. Then came another project… and a few more boxes.

Then 37 more.

We were told to pack everything. Not just a room—everything.

Take down the family photos. Clear the shelves. Empty the drawers that hold the stuff you swear you’ll organize “someday.”

So we did.

If you’ve ever taken frames off a staircase wall, you know that’s not just redecorating—it’s reliving.

I pulled down photos of my babies when they still had baby cheeks. Old vacation prints with crooked smiles and sunburnt shoulders. I found my favorite crayon drawings, folded-up with a “I love you, Mom” notes tucked in drawers, toothless grin school pictures behind the fridge. I have so much gratitude for these special things!

And then the tears came. Not because of the mess, but because of the meaning.

Time has moved. And so have my kids. And somewhere in the stretch between sippy cups and adult conversations, I did too.

We packed it all. Kitchen items landed in the living room. Our couches became temporary countertops. We had no kitchen. Very little running water. Having access to a hot shower and a sink to brush teeth in was a treat!

I labeled every box with my favorite Sharpie and told myself: “This is the beginning of something new.”

But then—just as quickly as the packing had begun—we were told:

“You don’t have to move out after all.”

A few weeks later, it happened again. This time, at work.

We’ve been in the same office space for years. It’s been a refuge. A home base. But suddenly, things shifted and we were told to prepare to leave.

So we did. Box after box. Old staff pictures with stories attached to them, listener thank you letters, event badges, photos from conferences and concerts. Some things made us laugh. Others made us pause and reflect.

Once again, we packed. We reflected. We braced ourselves.

And once again… We stayed.

So here I was:

My home packed.

My office packed.

My life—physically, emotionally, spiritually—boxed up.

And I never went anywhere.

I stood in the middle of two full circles and whispered the question that had been building in my chest:“God… what was the point of all this?”

Why would You ask me to uproot, only to keep me planted?

Why stir my spirit, only to leave me standing still?

Why open all these boxes in my heart, just to have me put everything back?

And then I felt it.

Not a loud answer.

Not a lightning bolt.

Just a still, steady knowing:

The packing wasn’t about the move.

It was about the preparation.

Not to go somewhere…But to see something.

Sometimes, God lets us pull everything apart—not to relocate, but to recalibrate.

To take inventory of the things we’ve held onto out of habit.

To notice what we’ve been storing away in the corners of our lives.

To hold memories in our hands, one by one, and ask: Do I still need this? Do I trust You with this?

Maybe it was never about changing location. Maybe it was about letting God reshape the space inside me.

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.” — Proverbs 3:5–6 (NIV)

I don’t fully understand it yet. I’m still surrounded by boxes—some unpacked, some half-labeled, some metaphorical. But I know this:

God doesn’t waste a season.

Not the messy ones.

Not the paused ones.

Not even the ones that make no sense at all.

If you’re standing in the middle of your own “almost,” or holding pieces of a life that looks unchanged but feels completely different— you’re not alone.

There is purpose in the disruption.

There is clarity in the slow-down.

And there is beauty in the stillness that only shows up when the noise is stripped away.

I’d love to hear from you:

Have you ever had a season where everything changed inside, but nothing changed around you?

Comment below or send me a message. I’d love to sit in the in-between with you.

We don’t have to move to grow.

We just have to be willing to see what God’s doing in the quiet.