The Stewardship of “Not Yet”

I never told God, “No.” That felt unthinkable. How could I call Jesus “Lord,” look Him in the face, and simply say no? When my wife and I first began talking about foster care, I didn’t say no. But I wasn’t ready to give God my “Yes,” either. “Not yet” is still an answer. It feels safer than no. It feels wiser than an immediate yes. For years, it was my answer to foster care.

I knew God cared deeply for the fatherless. I knew children needed families. I believed all of that. But life was busy. Work was demanding. The timing didn’t seem right. There were tough questions to answer and good reasons to wait. I wanted to be a faithful husband, a wise father, and a good provider. I wanted to count the cost before taking on something that would affect our whole family. None of those answers were wrong. They just weren’t the definitive answer.

The Invitation to Foster Care

I was not looking to foster, but it kept appearing in the lives and conversations around me. My brother fostered and eventually adopted. My best friend and his wife opened their home. Stories surfaced in conversations I never expected. Everywhere I turned, God was revealing His heart — for the fatherless, for families, and for those willing to step into the gap. It wasn’t loud. It was patient, gentle, and persistent. And every time the invitation found me, my answer stayed the same: “Not yet.”

Years passed, and the invitations to become a foster parent kept coming. Eventually, love for my wife and a growing curiosity brought me to a foster care informational meeting. But I found the meeting more discouraging than encouraging. I don’t remember much of what the trainer said, but I remember how I felt — uncomfortable and unsure. Not because I didn’t care. Because I cared tremendously.

As I listened, I wasn’t picturing paperwork or home studies. I was picturing children wondering why no one had chosen them. And while I was thinking about those children, another conversation quietly began inside me:

Am I the right man? Could I really do this? Could I love children carrying this much hurt? What if I fail them? What if someone else could be a better father? What if I make things worse?

I never said those words aloud. Instead, I kept saying the same thing: “Not yet.”

The Mirror of “Not Yet”

At the time, I thought I was being wise. It took seeing the same pattern of “not yet” in my own child before I could see it in myself.

One afternoon I heard one of my boys respond to a simple request. No yelling. No arguing. Just folded arms, a determined face, and eyes that quietly said, “Not yet.” It hit me hard. My son wasn’t arguing. He had simply assumed he had the right to decide when his obedience would begin.

In that moment, it felt like God held up a mirror. How many times had I done exactly that with Him? Not through rebellion. Through delay.

“Not yet” had become my way of delaying “yes.” But the longer I delayed, the harder it was to avoid the questions:

Who owns my yes? Who has the right to decide when my obedience begins?

For me, my “not yet” was standing in the way of obedience.

Saying “Not Yet” Is a Question of Lordship

I believed in my heart that Jesus was Lord of my life, and I confessed it with my mouth. But I wasn’t living as though He had the right to ask for my obedience. Somewhere along the way, I had quietly assumed my “yes” still belonged to me.

That realization changed how I understood foster care. My hesitation wasn’t primarily about caring for children in crisis. It wasn’t even primarily about my family. It was about lordship. It was about stewardship. Long before God wanted to do something through me, He wanted to do something in me.

It was a simple question from a good friend that moved me closer to yes. He asked, “If God has placed in your wife’s heart the desire to build a family, shouldn’t you do everything you can to help fulfill it?”

That question stayed with me, and through prayer, conversations with my wife, and God’s patient persistence, “not yet” became “yes.” That “yes” led us to open our home.

What began as a reluctant step of obedience became the way God built our family. Today, all five of our children came to us through foster care and adoption.

Looking back, I don’t think foster care was God’s greatest lesson — stewardship was. Stewardship began the moment I surrendered the illusion that I ever owned my yes in the first place.

Saying “Yes!” to Christ

The assignment shouldn’t change my “Yes!” to Christ. Sometimes He says, “Go!” Sometimes He says, “Stay!” Sometimes He says, “Wait!” But a good steward no longer decides when obedience begins. He chooses to obey at the point of God’s call.

Maybe your “not yet” is in answer to a call to foster care or adoption; to leading your family spiritually; to reconciling a broken relationship; or to finally saying, “Yes, Lord,” and taking the next faith-filled step.

I don’t know what your “not yet” is. But I know the two questions God used to search my heart:

Who owns my yes?

Who has the right to decide when my obedience begins?

For years I thought I was waiting on God. Looking back, God was waiting on me.

Summary

If you’re living in your own “not yet,” I want to encourage you: it’s not too late to say yes. Foster care isn’t just about opening your home — it’s about surrendering your obedience, your timing, and your fears to the One who already knows how the story ends. I spent years thinking I was being cautious and wise, when really, I was just delaying. God wasn’t asking me to have it all figured out. He was asking me to trust Him enough to start. If He’s been patiently, persistently knocking on your heart the way He knocked on mine, don’t wait for the fear to disappear before you answer. Let your “not yet” finally become “yes.”

©2026 Jeff Powers. Used with Permission.