Point – Pause - Proceed
Do you remember that phrase we learned as
kids—“Point, Pause, Proceed”?
It was meant to keep us safe when crossing a street: Point to show our
intention, Pause to look both ways, and only then Proceed when it
was safe.
Simple.
Memorable.
Life-saving.
But somewhere along the way, that childlike
rule became something deeper.
It wasn’t just about traffic lights or crosswalks anymore—it became a quiet
whisper from the Holy Spirit, a rhythm for navigating life and faith
itself.
As adults in Christ, we still find ourselves
standing at intersections—not of roads, but of decisions, relationships,
and callings.
And often, it’s not a honking horn that warns us to stop, but conviction,
feedback, or a piercing word that cuts through our pride.
When
Feedback Feels Like Fire
Recently, I wrote a reflection about Jesus
and the Bridegroom.
It was meant to spark loving, open conversation about the heart of Christ and
the beauty of His union with the Church.
But the response wasn’t what I expected.
Some readers were moved, yes—but others, instead of engaging in conversation
about theology, offered feedback that cut deep.
Not about doctrine.
About me.
And that’s when I felt it: that sudden
heaviness, that lump in the throat that only writers who write for the Kingdom
will understand.
Because when you intend to glorify God, and someone tells you your words might
be pushing people away from Him—the weight of that thought is unbearable.
Scripture says,
“But I tell you that everyone will have to
give account on the day of judgment for every empty word they have spoken.”
(Matthew 12:36, NIV)
That verse echoed through my mind like
thunder.
Had I, with all my love and desire to serve, somehow caused harm?
Had my own words—meant to build—become stumbling blocks?
The enemy would love for me to stay in that
place.
He thrives in doubt, in second-guessing, in self-silencing.
But God—oh, He is faithful even in correction.
Because correction is not condemnation; it is direction.
The Moment
of Intervention
When I received that feedback, I was sitting
in a meeting room surrounded by financial and insurance advisors.
You know the kind—coffee cups, laptops, muted laughter about market trends.
I stepped out for a moment, trying to process what I had just read.
When I walked back in, I felt the quietest prompting:
“Sit somewhere different.”
I obeyed.
No big deal, right?
But we both know—there are no coincidences in the Kingdom.
As I sat down, I struck up a conversation with the man beside me.
Within minutes, I learned he had a PhD in theology.
Of all the people in that room of spreadsheets
and policies, I was now beside a theologian.
A divine setup.
And as soon as I shared what had happened, he said, “Send me the piece. I’d
love to read it.”
The next day, he wrote back:
“What a beautiful reflection. Encouraging and
full of truth. Proceed.”
That one word—Proceed—felt like the
Holy Spirit Himself spoke through him.
Because God knew I had paused in fear.
He knew I had questioned my worth and my words.
And in that divine encounter, He pointed me back to purpose.
Recognizing
the Point
The “point” moment in life is when God gets
your attention.
It’s the intersection between conviction and calling.
It can come through feedback, loss, blessing, or even boredom.
It’s the tug in your spirit that says, Something needs your attention here.
In Scripture, we see countless examples:
- Moses saw a
bush that burned but was not consumed.
That was his point.
“When the LORD saw that he had gone over to
look, God called to him from within the bush, ‘Moses! Moses!’”
(Exodus 3:4, NIV)
The fire caught his eye; the voice captured his destiny.
- Samuel, as a
boy, heard his name called in the night.
That was his point.
“Then Eli realized that the LORD was calling
the boy.”
(1 Samuel 3:8, NIV)
- Peter, in
the New Testament, heard the rooster crow after denying Jesus.
That haunting sound was his point of conviction and redirection.
“Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had
spoken… and he went outside and wept bitterly.”
(Matthew 26:75, NIV)
God still uses “point” moments today—sometimes
gently, sometimes through fire, sometimes through feedback that feels unfair
but is divinely purposed.
Patterns
and Awareness
You know me—I love to write about patterns.
The Holy Spirit has shown me that He moves in them because our God is a God of
order.
Creation itself was spoken into rhythm and sequence—day, night, sea, sky, rest.
And within those patterns are warnings, lessons, and directions.
If you pay attention long enough, you start to
see them repeating.
A relationship pattern, a financial one, a spiritual one.
God is whispering through them all.
Sometimes He’s saying:
“Stop crossing the same road expecting a different light.”
Other times:
“This is the moment. Go.”
The “point” is not just about being
corrected—it’s about being redirected.
The Holy Spirit doesn’t convict to shame; He convicts to guide.
It’s like that crosswalk light turning yellow—not to trap you, but to protect
you.
The Inner
Dialogue
After that meeting, I drove home, replaying
everything in my head.
The feedback.
The encouragement.
The way God orchestrated that divine encounter.
And I realized something profound:
The point isn’t about perfection—it’s about awareness.
“The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise,
as some understand slowness. Instead, he is patient with you, not wanting
anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.”
(2 Peter 3:9, NIV)
That verse reminds me that God’s timing—His
pauses, His points—is never to delay, but to develop.
He allows these moments to pull our attention back to Him before we proceed
down roads that lead to destruction.
Personal
Conviction vs. Condemnation
I had to face something within myself during
that experience:
Was my hurt from the feedback about protecting the Kingdom or about protecting
my ego?
That’s a tricky question to ask yourself as a writer, or in any ministry.
But it’s vital.
Because pride disguises itself as purpose all
too easily.
The moment we think the Kingdom depends on us, we’ve already missed the
point.
In Romans 12:3 (NIV), Paul writes:
“Do not think of yourself more highly than you
ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the
faith God has distributed to each of you.”
That verse struck me deeply.
I realized that the point wasn’t the feedback itself—it was what God
wanted to reveal through it.
He was saying, “Craig, I see your heart. Keep writing—but let Me purify your
motive each time.”
And maybe that’s where you are today, too.
Maybe God is pointing something out—not to humiliate you, but to heal you.
The “point” is an act of mercy.
It’s the start of redirection.
It’s the Spirit saying, Look here before you cross.
From Pain
to Perspective
When Jesus confronted Peter after His
resurrection, He didn’t bring up Peter’s failure to shame him.
He brought it up to restore him.
“Simon son of John, do you love me?”
“Yes, Lord,” he said, “you know that I love you.”
Jesus said, “Feed my sheep.”
(John 21:17, NIV)
That moment is a divine illustration of Point
Pause Proceed in motion.
Peter was pointed to his failure, paused in repentance, and then proceeded into
a ministry that would change the world.
So what if your “point” moment isn’t a
punishment, but an invitation?
What if feedback—whether kind or cutting—is simply God pointing you back toward
what truly matters: His Kingdom, not your comfort?
The Safety
of the Point
As children, “Point Pause Proceed” was about
avoiding danger.
Spiritually, it’s the same.
When we ignore the point, we risk stepping into traffic we can’t see.
The Holy Spirit uses conviction as divine hand signals—warnings before
collisions.
In Proverbs 3:5–6 (NIV) we read:
“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.”
To “submit” is to acknowledge the point—to
say, “God, I don’t understand this, but I trust that You do.”
That’s how safety is born—not in control, but in surrender.
A Living
Example
That day in the meeting, God didn’t just
restore my confidence in writing; He restored my awareness of His nearness.
Because even in a room full of financial advisors, He reminded me He is in every
room, every conversation, every detail.
He didn’t let my discouragement become disobedience.
That’s grace.
That’s the love of a Father who doesn’t want His children frozen at the
crosswalk, too afraid to move forward, or too proud to look both ways.
He simply says:
Point.
See what I’m showing you.
Recognize where I am working.
Acknowledge the light before you.
Transition
to Pause
Every point requires a pause.
Once God captures your attention, He invites you to stop—really stop—and
discern His direction.
So, before we rush ahead to “proceed,” we must
honour the holy moment in between—the space where stillness becomes revelation.
That’s where we’ll go next.
Because the pause is where faith
breathes.
It’s where clarity comes.
It’s where obedience takes root before motion begins.
PAUSE
If Point is about awareness, then Pause
is about alignment.
It’s that moment when your spirit whispers,
“Wait. Don’t move yet.”
And if you’re anything like me, waiting can be one of the hardest disciplines
in the Christian Walk. We live in a world that celebrates movement—progress,
production, performance. But the Kingdom celebrates obedience—and
obedience often begins with stillness.
The child in us once learned to pause
at the curb to stay alive.
The believer in us must learn to pause at the crossroads to stay aligned
with God’s will.
The Holy
Weight of Stillness
When I think back to that moment of feedback
that shook me, the most challenging part wasn’t hearing it—it was sitting in
the silence afterward. That pause felt like an eternity. My mind raced with
questions, my heart with doubts. I wanted clarity, affirmation,
validation—something to make the sting go away.
But God doesn’t rush healing.
He refines it through stillness.
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
(Psalm 46:10, NIV)
We’ve all heard that verse countless times,
but rarely do we understand the weight of that and.
It’s not “Be still or know.”
It’s “Be still and know.”
Stillness is not just the absence of movement; it’s the environment where knowing
becomes possible.
When the world demands reaction, God invites
reflection.
That’s what the pause is for.
Elijah’s
Whisper
In 1 Kings 19, the prophet Elijah fled
into the wilderness, overwhelmed by fear and exhaustion. He had just faced down
false prophets, seen fire fall from heaven, and yet—he ran. He was done.
God met him in that place, but not in the way Elijah expected.
“After the earthquake came a fire, but the
Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.”
(1 Kings 19:12, NIV)
That whisper was the pause.
The Holy Spirit was teaching Elijah that God’s power is not always loud or
dramatic—it’s often revealed in quiet surrender.
And when Elijah listened, he found his next assignment waiting in that silence.
Our culture trains us to equate noise with
importance.
But in the Kingdom, quiet is where the true power resides.
When we pause, we make room for the whisper.
And the whisper always carries more truth than the shout.
The Cost of
Skipping the Pause
The truth is—most of us don’t like to pause
because pausing forces us to face ourselves.
When we’re moving, we can hide behind
momentum.
When we stop, we have to look in the mirror.
King Saul learned this the hard way.
In 1 Samuel 13, he grew impatient waiting for the prophet Samuel to
arrive to offer a sacrifice. He looked at his anxious army and decided to act
without waiting for God’s timing. The result? His kingdom fell apart.
“You have done a foolish thing,” Samuel said.
“You have not kept the command the Lord your God gave you; if you had, he would
have established your kingdom over Israel for all time.”
(1 Samuel 13:13, NIV)
Saul’s story reminds me that impatience is
often the birthplace of disobedience.
When we skip the pause, we step into our own understanding—and away from God’s
plan.
Jesus Knew
the Power of the Pause
Even Jesus—the Son of God, the Word made
flesh—honoured the pause.
Scripture tells us repeatedly that He withdrew to pray, to be alone, to be
still.
“But Jesus often withdrew to lonely places and
prayed.”
(Luke 5:16, NIV)
Why would the Saviour of the world need to
step away if not to model for us the necessity of resting in the Father’s
presence?
Before He chose His disciples—He paused.
Before He faced the cross—He paused in Gethsemane.
Before He healed, taught, or performed miracles—He paused to listen to the
Father.
In our busyness, we often equate stillness
with weakness; however, in the Kingdom, stillness is a sign of spiritual
strength.
The
Emotional Side of Pause
When that feedback about my writing landed
like a blow, my natural reaction was to defend myself. To explain my intent. To
clarify the “why.” But the Holy Spirit whispered, “Don’t speak. Just listen.”
That was my pause.
It was uncomfortable. Vulnerable.
But in that space, God did something profound.
He peeled back layers of pride, insecurity, and the quiet idolatry of approval.
Because sometimes we think we’re serving the
Kingdom when really we’re serving our own need to be seen doing it.
That realization broke me—and then rebuilt me.
The pause is holy surgery.
It hurts, but it heals.
“Search me, God, and know my heart; test me
and know my anxious thoughts.”
(Psalm 139:23, NIV)
When you allow God to search you in the pause,
you discover that His conviction is never cruel.
It’s precise.
It targets the wound without wounding the soul.
Waiting as
Worship
Have you ever noticed how many Psalms are
written from a place of waiting?
David was anointed as king long before he ever sat on a throne. In between was
a long pause—filled with caves, enemies, and uncertainty.
But in those in-between places, he worshiped.
He didn’t just wait—he waited on the Lord.
“I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to
me and heard my cry.”
(Psalm 40:1, NIV)
There’s a difference between waiting and
waiting patiently.
One is passive; the other is faithful.
To wait patiently doesn’t mean pretending
everything’s fine—it means trusting that even in the silence, God is still
speaking.
Maybe you’re in that kind of pause right now.
Maybe the doors haven’t opened.
The answers haven’t come.
The vision feels distant.
But let me encourage you—what feels like a
pause to you may actually be preparation in Heaven.
God is not ignoring you; He’s aligning you.
From
Restlessness to Readiness
The pause isn’t punishment—it’s preparation.
Every prophet, every disciple, every great move of God started with one thing:
stillness before the storm.
Moses spent forty years tending sheep before
leading Israel out of Egypt.
Joseph spent years in prison before saving nations.
Even Paul spent time in obscurity before stepping into public ministry.
Each of them had to be paused before
they could proceed.
The waiting refined them.
The silence humbled them.
The pause built endurance that success never could.
In James 1:4 (NIV), it says:
“Let perseverance finish its work so that you
may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”
That’s what the pause does—it finishes the
unseen work.
It matures faith that otherwise would remain fragile.
Learning to
Breathe Again
One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned in
these seasons is that the pause teaches you how to breathe with Heaven’s
rhythm.
Inhale faith.
Exhale fear.
The world says, “Hurry up.”
Heaven says, “Slow down.”
The world says, “Make it happen.”
Heaven says, “Let Me make it holy.”
The pause allows God to reset your
breathing—to match His heartbeat again.
When I sat in that silence after the
criticism, I started to pray differently.
Not, “God, make them understand,” but, “God, make me understand.”
Not, “Fix this,” but, “Form me.”
That’s the essence of pause.
It’s not about fixing circumstances—it’s about forming character.
The Parable
of the Seeds
Jesus once taught in parables about seeds that
fell on different types of soil (Matthew 13). Some were choked by
thorns, some scorched by the sun, but only those that landed in good soil took
root and produced fruit.
The pause is where God prepares the soil.
If He planted truth before your heart was
ready, it would wither under the heat of misunderstanding or pride. But when He
tills your soil in the pause, the seed takes root deeply.
So when growth finally comes, it won’t be
shallow—it’ll be strong enough to withstand storms.
That’s why God sometimes holds us in a season
of waiting.
Because He loves us too much to let us grow crooked.
Listening
for Direction
During the pause, God will often send
confirmation through people, Scripture, or peace that passes understanding.
That day in the meeting, my confirmation came through a man I had never
met—someone who unknowingly became the voice of God saying, “Proceed.”
But it was in the pause before that
confirmation that I learned to listen again.
“My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and
they follow me.”
(John 10:27, NIV)
Notice the order—listening comes before
following.
You can’t proceed until you’ve paused long enough to hear His voice.
Reverence
in the Pause
We live in a generation addicted to instant
answers. But God’s ways are higher.
The pause is sacred ground. It’s where transformation quietly takes
place.
When the Israelites wandered in the
wilderness, God’s presence appeared as a cloud by day and fire by night. They
moved only when the cloud moved.
“Whether the cloud stayed over the tabernacle
for two days or a month or a year, the Israelites would remain in camp and not
set out; but when it lifted, they would set out.”
(Numbers 9:22, NIV)
That’s spiritual maturity: refusing to move
until the presence moves.
If the cloud stays, you stay.
If the fire lingers, you linger.
That’s reverence.
That’s relationship.
The
Transition to Proceed
Eventually, every pause ends.
And when it does, those who waited well carry something deeper—peace.
“Those who hope in the Lord will renew their
strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow
weary, they will walk and not be faint.”
(Isaiah 40:31, NIV)
That renewal doesn’t happen in the race—it
happens in the rest.
The pause equips you for what’s next.
It calibrates your soul for divine movement.
And when God says “Go,” you’re not just moving—you’re moving in rhythm with
Heaven.
So if Point is awareness,
and Pause is alignment,
then Proceed is assignment.
It’s where faith meets action, and the fruit
of obedience begins to manifest.
Let’s move there next.
PROCEED
When the light finally turns green, it’s not a
rush—it’s a release.
The pause wasn’t wasted; it was worship.
And when God says, “Go,” you move—not from impulse, but from intimacy.
Proceed isn’t about speed.
It’s about Spirit-led obedience.
The Courage
to Move Again
When I think back to that divine meeting in
the room of financial advisors, I still shake my head in awe. The odds of
sitting beside someone with a PhD in theology that day? Slim. The odds that
he’d read my words and affirm, “Proceed”? Impossible—unless you know the God of
impossibilities.
That one word reignited a flame I didn’t even
realize was flickering.
Because fear can disguise itself as humility—“Maybe I should stop writing;
maybe I’m not qualified.” But what I’ve learned is this: you don’t have to
be perfect to proceed—you just have to be obedient.
“Then the Lord reached out his hand and
touched my mouth and said to me, ‘I have put my words in your mouth.’”
(Jeremiah 1:9, NIV)
Jeremiah tried to disqualify himself by his
age, his voice, his fear.
But God didn’t ask for credentials—He asked for surrender.
That’s what proceeding requires.
You can’t move forward if you’re still
apologizing for being called.
You can’t step into your anointing while clinging to approval.
The time to proceed comes when God has already
affirmed, “This is the way—walk in it.”
Peter
Stepping Out
Few stories in Scripture capture “Point Pause
Proceed” better than Peter walking on water.
“But Jesus immediately said to them: ‘Take
courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.’
‘Lord, if it’s you,’ Peter replied, ‘tell me to come to you on the water.’
‘Come,’ he said.”
(Matthew 14:27–29, NIV)
Peter pointed his focus toward Jesus.
He paused to listen for the confirmation of the Lord’s voice.
Then he proceeded—one trembling foot at a time—into the impossible.
It wasn’t perfect. He faltered. The waves
rose. But Jesus didn’t shame him for sinking; He saved him for trying.
That’s the beauty of proceeding with faith:
God measures your willingness more than your stability.
So many of us stay in the boat, paralyzed by what-ifs.
But God’s Kingdom was never built on comfort zones—it was built on those
willing to risk the waves.
When you proceed under divine instruction,
even your stumbles become sermons.
Faith in
Motion
Proceeding doesn’t mean rushing. It means responding.
Faith in motion is faith made mature.
“As the body without the spirit is dead, so
faith without deeds is dead.”
(James 2:26, NIV)
The pause equips you to proceed wisely, but
eventually, obedience must take form.
Faith without motion is like a car in park with the engine running—it makes
noise but goes nowhere.
Every move of God requires a human step.
Moses had to lift his staff.
David had to pick up his sling.
Esther had to step into the throne room.
Mary had to say, “May it be to me as you have said.”
Heaven’s miracles are activated by Earth’s
obedience.
Proceeding means partnering with God’s
promises—even when the timing doesn’t make sense.
When
Proceeding Feels Risky
Let’s be honest—sometimes proceeding doesn’t
feel like victory. It feels like vulnerability.
Because when you move forward after being wounded—by words, by rejection, by
self-doubt—it takes supernatural courage.
But God specializes in using wounded vessels
to carry healing.
He doesn’t wait for your perfection; He waits for your permission.
“Have I not commanded you? Be strong and
courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will
be with you wherever you go.”
(Joshua 1:9, NIV)
Joshua stood before a new land with a new
generation.
He had seen the failures of the past and the weight of leadership ahead.
Yet God’s instruction was simple: Proceed.
Not because it was easy, but because God was
already there.
Walking in
New Confidence
When I returned to writing after that moment
of affirmation, something changed.
The fear was still there—but it didn’t own me anymore.
Because I had learned that obedience is greater than outcome.
I began to see writing differently.
No longer as something I do for God, but something God does through
me.
That shift—moving from striving to
surrender—transformed everything.
When I stopped asking, “Will people like this?” and started asking, “Will this
glorify Him?” my peace returned.
That’s when proceeding becomes powerful—when
it’s not about being right, but being faithful.
Paul’s
Proceeding
The Apostle Paul understood this tension
better than anyone.
He had every reason to feel unworthy after persecuting Christians, but God’s
call was clear.
“Forgetting what is behind and straining
toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God
has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”
(Philippians 3:13–14, NIV)
“Press on.” That’s proceeding.
Not perfectly. Not painlessly.
But persistently.
God doesn’t erase your past—He redeems it as
momentum.
Your failures become the force behind your faith when you let Him rewrite the
narrative.
The
Proceeding Heart
As believers, proceeding is not about proving.
It’s about trusting.
It’s choosing to move forward even when clarity hasn’t caught up yet.
Think of Abraham.
“By faith Abraham, when called to go to a
place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though
he did not know where he was going.”
(Hebrews 11:8, NIV)
Faith doesn’t always come with a map.
Sometimes all you get is a whisper and a promise.
And that’s enough.
Because faith doesn’t need to know the
route when it knows the guide.
The Rhythm
of Revival
Here’s what I’ve come to believe:
Every revival—personal or corporate—starts with a simple rhythm.
God points, His people pause, and then they proceed in
obedience.
That’s how the Church began.
After Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples were told to wait in Jerusalem. They
paused in the Upper Room, uncertain but unified. Then the Holy Spirit came at
Pentecost—and they proceeded with power that changed the course of history.
“All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit
and began to speak in other tongues as the Spirit enabled them.”
(Acts 2:4, NIV)
Without the pause, there would’ve been chaos.
Without proceeding, there would’ve been silence.
Together, the pattern created purpose.
Learning
from the Road Ahead
So how do we apply this rhythm—Point, Pause,
Proceed—as believers walking through modern life?
We face noise, distraction, and criticism from every direction.
And yet, the call remains the same:
Listen. Wait. Move.
But not every “move” looks the same.
Sometimes proceeding means writing the next chapter.
Sometimes it means reconciling with someone you’d rather avoid.
Sometimes it means leaving something comfortable to pursue something in the Kingdom.
Whatever your proceed looks like, let
it be led by peace, not pressure.
“Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts,
since as members of one body you were called to peace.”
(Colossians 3:15, NIV)
Peace isn’t passive—it’s directional.
If proceeding disturbs your peace, it’s not your step to take yet.
If proceeding deepens your peace, it’s confirmation that God is already ahead
of you.
Three
Scriptural Ways to Use Point Pause Proceed as a Spiritual Safety System
Let’s bring this full circle.
“Point, Pause, Proceed” wasn’t just a childhood safety phrase—it’s a divine
pattern that still protects the soul today.
Here are three scripturally grounded ways to use this rhythm for your
own spiritual safety and salvation:
1. Point – Acknowledge the Conviction (The
Light of Awareness)
- Scripture:
“Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on
my path.” (Psalm 119:105, NIV)
- Practice:
When you sense the Holy Spirit highlighting something—a conversation, a conviction, a repeated pattern—acknowledge it.
Don’t dismiss divine nudges as a coincidence.
Point your focus toward God’s prompting. Ask, “Lord, what are You trying to show me?” - Why it
matters:
Recognizing the “point” moment protects you from spiritual blindness. Awareness is the first act of obedience.
2. Pause – Discern with Prayer (The Stillness
of Surrender)
- Scripture:
“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask
God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to
you.” (James 1:5, NIV)
- Practice:
When in doubt, pause before you act. Pray. Seek counsel. Wait for peace.
Pausing isn’t hesitation—it’s humility. It gives God space to confirm direction. - Why it
matters:
The pause keeps you from emotional reactions that lead to regret. It anchors your spirit in truth before motion.
3. Proceed – Obey in Faith (The Courage of
Action)
- Scripture:
“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)
- Practice:
Once you’ve discerned God’s leading—move, don’t wait for perfect conditions. Proceed in obedience and trust that He goes before you. - Why it
matters:
Action under divine instruction transforms fear into fruitfulness. It’s how faith becomes real in the world.
Crossing
the Street of Faith
In the end, “Point Pause Proceed” isn’t just a
childhood memory—it’s a Kingdom principle.
It’s how we cross safely through the intersections of faith, failure, and
forgiveness.
Every time you write, speak, forgive, or lead,
remember:
God is not just the light at the other side—He’s the One standing in the
intersection, watching, guiding, protecting.
You may get honked at by the world.
You may stumble mid-step.
But if you’re walking toward Him, you’re walking in the right direction.
And when you arrive—on the other side of this
life’s crosswalk—you’ll look back and realize every point, every pause, every
proceed was part of a divine pattern that brought you safely home.
A Closing
Reflection
Maybe today God is pointing out something in
your heart.
Maybe He’s asking you to pause before you proceed into a new season.
Or maybe He’s saying, “You’ve waited long enough—move.”
Whichever season you’re in, remember this:
“The Lord will watch over your coming and
going both now and forevermore.”
(Psalm 121:8, NIV)
That’s His promise.
That’s His pattern.
That’s His protection.
So point with awareness.
Pause with reverence.
And proceed with faith.
Because in every intersection of life, the
safest way forward is the one that follows His signal light of grace.
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