Disappointment is rarely convenient. It doesn’t ask our permission before it moves in, packs a punch, and stays longer than we’d like.

I recently walked through a painful transition that reminded me just how vulnerable disappointment can make us feel. After living in the same home for nearly a decade, rising costs forced me to move. For over a year, I searched for a solution. I tried everything I could think of — and everything friends suggested — but nothing opened up.

I’m a planner by nature, someone who thrives on consistency and struggles with change. So, to live in such uncertainty for so long was more than uncomfortable. It was exhausting. When moving day came and I still had nowhere to go, I felt scared and utterly alone. I had quietly hoped a few friends, who had extra space, might invite me in. They didn’t. Though they prayed for me — and I was grateful for that — the kind of help I’d imagined never came.

My heart sank under the weight of unmet expectations.

The thing about unmet expectations is that they don’t always come from a place of entitlement. I wasn’t demanding or even asking — I just assumed. I truly thought these friends would be the ones to step in. But they didn’t.

But God.

In His kindness, He made a way — just not through the people I expected. A dear friend, one I hadn’t anticipated, provided a place for me to live. Her sacrificial giving stunned me. It was a blessing I could never repay.

Her generosity reminded me of one of my favorite portions of Scripture: Acts 2:42–47. These verses offer a glimpse into the life of the early Church — a community of believers marked by unity, worship, and radical generosity. “And all the believers met together in one place and shared everything they had,” verses 44–45 (NLT) tell us. “They sold their property and possessions and shared the money with those in need.”

This wasn’t about obligation or guilt. It was about a posture of open hands and willing hearts. The early believers recognized that everything they had belonged to God. They lived not for themselves, but for each other, because of Christ.

That’s what my friend did. She didn’t help because she had to; she helped because she wanted to. She lived out the spirit of Acts 2, and in doing so, she became the answer to my prayer.

I’ve learned to live in the middle of what author and podcaster Abi Stumvoll calls “truths in tension.” Two things can be true at the same time: I can be disappointed and deeply grateful. I can mourn what didn’t happen while praising God for what did. I can acknowledge that some people didn’t show up in the way I’d hoped and still see God’s faithfulness in the friend who did.

And honestly? That’s the invitation of faith. To hold the hard and the holy at the same time. To say, “This hurts,” and still whisper, “God is good.”

Unmet expectations often reveal where we’ve placed our trust. I expected provision to come in a certain way, from certain people. But God reminded me that His ways are higher than mine, and often more surprising. He used someone unexpected to meet my needs and to gently show me that I am seen, held, and cared for.

This experience didn’t just shift my circumstances — it shifted my heart. It taught me to stop clinging so tightly to how I think things should go and instead rest in God’s sovereignty and timing. His provision might not look the way I imagined, but it is always enough.

The Lord and I are still processing my disappointment. Healing doesn’t always come quickly, and that’s okay. But through it all, I’m learning to trust Him more — to lean into His love, to receive His grace, and to believe that He truly is a good Father.

Have you ever been surprised by God’s provision in a moment of great disappointment? I’d love to hear your story.

 

Listen to Karina’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts!

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