With Enoch, I wanted to sit with the kind of faithfulness nobody claps for. Not the dramatic obedience…the boring kind. The showing-up-again kind, when there’s nothing to show for it. Effort without evidence. Faithfulness without fruit.

I know that place. Most of us do. You’re doing the very thing you believe you were called to do, and it’s just… quiet. No breakthrough. No applause. And then one day a reasonable voice, usually someone you respect, saying it kindly, offers you a way out.

“You’ve given this a real shot. Maybe it’s time to consider something else.”

Suddenly quitting doesn’t feel like failure. It feels like wisdom. That’s the part that scared me to write, because I’ve believed that voice before.

There’s an image I kept coming back to: the yam farmer. In our culture, the yam is the king of crops, and every farmer knows the secret no one likes to hear after you plant… there’s a long, silent season where nothing seems to happen. The wise farmer doesn’t dig up the yam to check on it. He tends. He weeds. He trusts the ground to do its work in the dark, long before the harvest ever shows its face.

I think a lot of us are digging up seeds. Checking. Panicking. Mistaking “I can’t see it” for “it isn’t happening.”

But Paul says God “began a good work in you” and will carry it to completion. Not maybe but Will. So the invitation of this moment isn’t to understand the pace — it’s to trust the One who set it. Staying isn’t stubbornness. It’s reverence for a work still in progress.

Don’t dig up the seed. It’s still growing.

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit unwankwor.substack.com

When the House Is Gone — and You’re Still Waiting

Some losses don’t come with drama. They arrive quietly. Through a phone call. A closed door. A future that no longer exists in the way you imagined it.

In this week’s episode of A Moment in Time, Naomi’s story reminds us that waiting becomes hardest when the thing we hoped for disappears — and we’re left with no leverage, no next step, no clear timeline.

Scripture doesn’t dismiss that kind of waiting, in fact, Habakkuk speaks directly to it.

“Though it linger, wait for it.”

Waiting, the Bible teaches us, isn’t evidence that God has forgotten us. It’s often the place where trust is refined, where we learn to release control without releasing hope.

Naomi didn’t stop wanting a home for her children. She searched again. She ran the numbers. She felt the familiar guilt of not being able to give them what she had hoped to give by a certain time.

Waiting wasn’t her first instinct… scrambling was.

But when every alternative required trading stability for speed, she chose restraint. Not because she lacked faith — but because she refused to secure provision at the cost of peace. And that shift changed how she waited.

If you’re holding something that feels delayed, or lost, you’re not doing faith wrong. You may be standing in the very place where trust grows deeper roots.

Reflection question: Where might God be inviting you to release the timeline while still holding onto hope?

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit unwankwor.substack.com

There’s a version of strength many of us were taught to admire.

The kind that doesn’t ask.

The kind that carries quietly.

The kind that handles things alone.

For a long time, that version works.

Until it starts to cost us more than we realize.

In this week’s episode of A Moment in Time, Jonah’s story reminds us that isolation often disguises itself as competence. We tell ourselves we’re just being responsible. Capable. Reliable. But over time, the weight grows heavier — not because the work is too much, but because we’re carrying it alone.

Scripture doesn’t condemn strength. It reframes it.

Ecclesiastes tells us that two are better than one. Not because they’re faster or more impressive, but because when one falls, the other can lift them up. The danger isn’t falling. It’s falling with no one there to help you back up.

And when God is added, the cord of three strands, what’s formed isn’t invincibility. It’s stability.

Sometimes the bravest moment isn’t pushing through.

It’s pausing long enough to say yes when help is offered.

Reflection question:

Where might God be inviting you to release self-reliance and receive support instead?

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit unwankwor.substack.com

There are seasons when faith doesn’t feel powerful or dramatic.

It feels… still.

You keep showing up.

You keep praying.

You keep believing.

But the clarity you expect doesn’t come in thunder or signs…it comes quietly, almost imperceptibly.

In Scripture, Elijah encountered God not in the wind or the fire, but in a gentle whisper. That moment reminds us that God is not absent when things grow quiet. Often, He is closer than ever.

We live in a world that rewards noise, declarations, announcements, certainty. But faith often grows in the opposite direction. It deepens in silence. It matures in surrender.

Sometimes the greatest act of trust is not striving harder, but learning to listen.

If you’re in a season where everything feels muted, you’re not lost.

You may just be learning how to hear differently.

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit unwankwor.substack.com

There comes a moment when obedience becomes inconvenient.

Not dramatic.

Not loud.

Just costly.

In this week’s episode of A Moment in Time, we explored the quiet tension Paul names in Galatians 1:10 — the moment when pleasing God and pleasing people no longer point in the same direction.

Paul doesn’t frame this as a personality issue. Or a communication problem. He frames it as allegiance. “If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ.” That verse isn’t about becoming harsh or indifferent. It’s about refusing to let approval become the measure of faithfulness.

Many of us don’t struggle with believing the truth. We struggle with standing by it once it costs us something. Followers. Opportunities. Affirmation. Security. The temptation isn’t always to deny the truth — it’s to explain it endlessly, soften it, or repackage it so it feels safer. But obedience doesn’t require constant clarification. It requires trust. When we stop explaining, we’re not abandoning love. We’re choosing alignment. We’re saying: God, You know why I said this. You know why I stood here. That’s enough. And sometimes, that’s the most faithful posture of all.

Reflection question:

Where might God be inviting you to release the need for approval — and trust Him with the outcome?

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit unwankwor.substack.com

There’s a kind of tiredness that doesn’t come from doing too much — it comes from carrying things the wrong way.

In this week’s episode of A Moment in Time, we talked about rest — not as escape, but as alignment. Not as quitting responsibility, but as choosing to stop carrying it alone.

Jesus’ invitation in Matthew 11 is often misunderstood.

When He says, “Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden,” He’s not speaking to people who have stopped functioning. He’s speaking to people who are still showing up — still working, still serving, still holding it all together.

Some are laboring, carrying their own responsibilities without help. Others are heavy laden, carrying the expectations, emotions, and burdens of everyone else.

Jesus doesn’t deny that we have obligations.

He names them — and then offers a different way of carrying them. “Take My yoke upon you… for My yoke is easy and My burden is light.” A yoke still means responsibility. But it also means partnership. The promise isn’t the absence of work, it’s rest for the soul.

In Scripture, Martha is doing everything right. She’s serving. She’s contributing. She’s being responsible. And yet, she’s anxious and overwhelmed. Jesus doesn’t shame her work — He gently names her weight.

Martha wasn’t wrong. She was weary. And Jesus’ invitation wasn’t to stop caring…it was to rest before resentment and depletion took over.

Choosing rest doesn’t mean you stop loving, serving, or showing up.

It means you stop carrying what was never meant to be carried alone. If you’ve been faithful but depleted…productive but empty… responsible but misaligned… this invitation is for you too.

Reflection question:

What are you still carrying that Jesus may be asking you to share with Him?

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit unwankwor.substack.com

There’s a subtle difference we don’t talk about enough:

the difference between planning and gripping the process.

Planning reflects wisdom.

It reflects intention.

It reflects the image of a God who created with order and purpose.

But gripping the process — holding too tightly to how something must unfold — is where frustration often begins.

In this week’s episode of A Moment in Time, we explored a moment where plans didn’t fall apart — they simply stopped moving. No obvious mistake. No clear misstep. Just a pause that felt unnecessary and deeply inconvenient.

Scripture tells us, “A person plans their way, but the Lord directs their steps.”

That verse doesn’t condemn planning. It reframes it.

We plan.

God directs the execution.

The tension comes when we submit the goal to God, but quietly hold onto the process — the timeline, the sequence, the method — as non-negotiable.

In the story of Gideon, God didn’t cancel the mission.

He reduced the army.

Not because the plan was wrong —

but because the process was carrying too much weight.

Sometimes God interrupts not to dismantle what we’ve built, but to remove what would keep us from trusting Him fully.

That kind of interruption can feel like rejection at first.

Like delay.

Like being sidelined.

But what if it’s none of those?

What if the closed door isn’t denial —

but redirection?

What if God isn’t undoing your plan —

but loosening your grip on how it has to happen?

If you’re in a season where things aren’t moving the way you expected, you’re not necessarily off course. You may simply be standing in a moment where God is reordering the steps.

And that kind of direction, while uncomfortable, is often mercy.

Reflection question:

Where might God be inviting you to release the process — while still trusting the plan?

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit unwankwor.substack.com

There’s a moment that doesn’t get talked about enough, the moment something you once loved no longer fits.

Not because it’s bad.

Not because it failed.

But because you have changed.

I’ve been thinking about that moment lately. The quiet realization that who you were is not who you are becoming. The book you would have written five years ago. The choices you once defended. The version of yourself you worked so hard to maintain. And then one day, without drama, it simply doesn’t fit anymore.

Scripture calls this being a new creation.

But what we don’t always say is how disorienting that can feel. New creation doesn’t mean instant perfection. It doesn’t mean the old disappears overnight. It means something new has been given, and now must be received.

Through Christ, God gives us the gift of transformation.

But living as a new creation requires our participation. It asks us to submit to the slow, sometimes uncomfortable work of change.

To release old patterns.

To stop pretending we haven’t grown.

To trust that God knows what He’s doing. Even when the change feels incomplete. This is a tension I explore often in my fiction. So many of my characters stand at that exact threshold. Between who they were and who they are becoming. Between familiarity and faith. Between holding on and stepping forward.

If you’ve ever felt that quiet discomfort… the sense that something no longer fits but you’re not sure what comes next…you’re not alone.

Sometimes, that discomfort is the evidence. You are changing. And God is not finished yet. If this reflection resonates, you’ll find these themes woven throughout my novels…stories of faith, love, and transformation that unfold gently, honestly, and without hurry.

For now, take this as permission to honor who you are becoming, even if the change isn’t complete. Some stories don’t end. They evolve.

If you enjoy stories that explore faith, change, and becoming, you’ll find them throughout my fiction — always rooted in hope, grace, and quiet transformation.

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit unwankwor.substack.com

There are moments in life that don’t announce themselves loudly. They don’t come with fireworks or warning signs. They simply arrive… and everything stops.

In this week’s episode of A Moment in Time, I shared one of those moments — a diagnosis that forced my life into stillness. Not because I wanted to stop, but because my body and circumstances gave me no other choice.

What surprised me most wasn’t the fear.

It was the pause.

Scripture tells us, “Be still, and know that I am God.” I’ve read that verse countless times. I’ve quoted it. I’ve encouraged others with it. But living it…really living it…is something else entirely. Stillness is uncomfortable when you’re used to moving. It feels unproductive when you’re wired to push forward. It feels unsettling when you don’t know what comes next. And yet, it was in that stillness that God met me.

Not with answers.

Not with timelines.

But with presence.

My physical therapist at the time said to me, “Why not think of this as just a moment in time?” That phrase stayed with me because it reframed everything. This pause wasn’t the end of my story. It wasn’t a punishment. It wasn’t wasted time.

It was a moment.

And moments, even the painful ones, can become invitations. So I want to ask you the same question I’m learning to ask myself: What has been your moment in time? The moment that stopped you.

Shifted you. Invited you to see God differently. You don’t have to rush through it. You don’t have to understand it yet. Sometimes, being still is the bravest thing we do.

Until next time…pay attention to your moments. God is in them.

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit unwankwor.substack.com

For a long time, I told myself I was pursuing excellence. I wanted to give God my best. I wanted my work, my words, my life to honor Him. But somewhere along the way, excellence quietly slipped into perfectionism…and I didn’t notice until I stopped moving.

Perfectionism wears spiritual language well. It tells us to wait for clarity/ discernment. Until it’s polished. Until God speaks…then we move and stop because we don’t have all the perfect pieces

But God has never asked us to be flawless. He’s asked us to be faithful.

A Moment in Time is a podcast about the moments that shape us — the quiet ones, the unexpected ones, the pauses we didn’t plan for — and the God who meets us there.

Each episode is a short reflection, a story, a scripture, and an invitation to slow down and notice what God is doing in the middle of real life. If you’ve ever felt caught between excellence and exhaustion…between becoming and being still…between faith and fear…this space is for you.

I’m Unoma, and this is A Moment in Time.

Until next time…pay attention to your moments.

God is in them.

This is a public episode. If you would like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit unwankwor.substack.com