I remember the exact moment I stopped pretending to have it all together. It was a Tuesday, 2:47 PM, standing in my kitchen staring at a jar of expired salsa. My prayer life had become a frantic list of demands, my faith a performance for an audience of one—myself. Then occasionally—not often, but just enough to shake me—God would break through the noise with something so quiet it felt like a whisper I almost missed.
Here’s what I’ve learned: faith isn’t about the big moments. It’s about the "then occasionally" ones. The unplanned pauses where heaven touches earth and you realize you’re not as lost as you thought.
The Myth of the Constant Mountaintop
Let’s be honest—we’ve been sold a lie. The Instagram-perfect Christian life where every sunrise brings a revelation and every prayer gets an instant answer. I’ve bought into it more times than I care to admit. I’d read someone’s testimony about their "daily walk with God" and feel like a fraud because my own experience looked more like tripping over roots than walking on water.
But here’s the truth nobody tells you: the Bible is full of "then occasionally" moments. Moses didn’t see burning bushes every day. Elijah didn’t hear God’s whisper on a weekly basis. Even Jesus had moments of solitude and silence between the miracles.
I’ve found that spiritual growth isn’t linear. It’s not a smooth curve upward. It’s a series of plateaus interrupted by sudden, unexpected breakthroughs. Those plateaus? That’s where most of us live. And that’s okay.
The Three Things Nobody Prepares You For
When I started taking my faith seriously, I expected constant fireworks. Instead, I got long stretches of quiet. Then occasionally—and I mean occasionally—something would shift.
Here’s what I’ve learned those "then occasionally" moments actually look like:
- They show up when you least expect them. You’re washing dishes, stuck in traffic, or lying awake at 3 AM, and suddenly a thought hits you that feels like it came from outside yourself. That’s not coincidence—that’s connection.
- They rarely come with fanfare. No angels singing, no dramatic visions. Just a quiet knowing that settles into your bones. I’ve learned to pay attention to the small nudges, because those are often the loudest messages God sends.
- They demand a response. Here’s what most people miss: the "then occasionally" isn’t just for your benefit. It’s an invitation to act. When that moment comes, you have to move. Otherwise, it becomes just another nice memory instead of a turning point.
Why Your Patience Is Actually a Superpower
We live in an era of instant everything. Same-day delivery, swipe-right relationships, microwave meals. So when faith doesn’t produce immediate results, we panic. We assume something is broken.
But patience isn’t passive waiting—it’s active trust. I’ve realized that the gap between "then" and "occasionally" is where character gets built. It’s the gym for your soul.
Think about it this way: if every prayer got answered in five minutes, you’d never learn to trust. If every struggle ended immediately, you’d never develop resilience. The "then occasionally" rhythm forces you to keep showing up even when nothing seems to be happening.
I’ve kept journals for years. When I look back, I see patterns I missed in real time. Seasons of drought followed by unexpected downpours. Long stretches of silence broken by moments of crystal-clear direction. The waiting wasn’t wasted—it was preparation.
The Surprising Role of Doubt in Your "Then Occasionally" Moments
Here’s something controversial: I think doubt is actually necessary for genuine faith. Not the kind of doubt that leads to unbelief, but the kind that asks honest questions.
I’ve had seasons where I questioned everything. Is God real? Does He hear me? Am I just talking to myself? Then occasionally—and this is the part that still blows my mind—a moment would come that I couldn’t explain away. A prayer answered in a way that was too specific to be coincidence. A peace that showed up in the middle of chaos. A word from someone who had no way of knowing what I was going through.
Those moments don’t happen every day. If they did, we wouldn’t need faith. Faith is believing in the "then occasionally" when you’re living in the "mostly not."
I’ve learned to be honest with God about my doubts. I’ve literally said out loud, "I don’t feel You right now, but I’m going to keep showing up anyway." And you know what? That honesty actually deepened my connection. It removed the pretense and let something real grow.
How to Create Space for the Unexpected
You can’t manufacture a "then occasionally" moment, but you can create conditions where it’s more likely to happen. Think of it like gardening—you can’t force a seed to sprout, but you can prepare the soil.
Here’s what’s worked for me:
- Schedule margin. I used to fill every minute with noise—podcasts, social media, work. Now I intentionally leave empty space. Five minutes of silence before a meeting. A walk without headphones. Those gaps are where whispers land.
- Practice gratitude in the mundane. I keep a running list of small things—a good cup of coffee, a kind text, a moment of laughter. Training my brain to notice goodness makes me more alert when the extraordinary shows up.
- Stop trying to control the outcome. This one’s hard. I’m a planner by nature. But I’ve found that when I release my grip on how things should go, I’m more open to how God wants them to go.
- Share your "then occasionally" stories. When you tell someone about that unexpected moment of clarity or peace, you’re not just reminiscing—you’re strengthening your own faith and encouraging theirs.
The Hidden Danger of Chasing the Moment
I need to warn you about something: it’s easy to become addicted to the "then occasionally" high. To start chasing experiences instead of relationship. I’ve seen people bounce from conference to conference, seeking the next emotional summit, while neglecting the daily grind of obedience.
The goal isn’t to collect mountain top moments. The goal is to become the kind of person who can live well in the valley. Because that’s where most of life happens.
I’ve learned that the "then occasionally" moments are gifts, not entitlements. They’re not rewards for good behavior or proof of spiritual superiority. They’re grace—pure and simple.
When I stopped treating my faith like a vending machine (put in prayer, get out blessing), everything shifted. I started enjoying the ordinary. I found God in the laundry pile and the grocery store line. And ironically, that’s when the extraordinary started showing up more often.
What If This Is Enough?
Here’s my final thought: what if the "then occasionally" is actually perfect? What if the rhythm of mostly ordinary punctuated by moments of extraordinary is exactly how faith is supposed to work?
I used to think something was wrong with me because I didn’t have daily visions or constant supernatural encounters. Now I see it differently. The quiet seasons are where roots grow deep. The occasional breakthroughs are reminders that Someone is still at work.
If you’re in a long stretch of silence right now, I want to encourage you: keep going. Keep showing up. Keep praying, even when it feels like talking to a wall. Keep reading, even when the words feel flat. Keep trusting, even when you can’t see.
The "then occasionally" will come. It always does. Not on your schedule, but on a better one. And when it arrives, you’ll be ready—not because you forced it, but because you stayed faithful in the meantime.
So here’s my question for you: what would change if you stopped waiting for the big moment and started living fully in the in-between?
Because that’s where the real transformation happens. In the ordinary. In the waiting. In the "then occasionally."
And honestly? That might be the most beautiful faith of all.
