Behind Schedule

by Bart Denny

Every now and then, I find myself wondering about the roads not taken.

What if I had finished college sooner?

What if I had become a naval officer earlier?

What if I had entered ministry at a younger age?

What if I had attended a traditional residential seminary?

What if I had stayed in the Navy longer?

I suspect most people eventually ask some version of those questions.

What if?

We compare the life we actually lived with the life we imagined. We think about opportunities that never materialized, plans that changed, mistakes we made, and doors that never opened.

For much of my life, I carried a persistent feeling that I was behind schedule.

I completed my bachelor's degree later than I had hoped.

I became a naval officer later than I had hoped.

I entered ministry later than many pastors.

Even my graduate education followed a winding path. Once I finally took the plunge, one master's degree led to another. Then another. Eventually, I earned a doctorate.

At every stage, I felt as though I was trying to make up for lost time.

That feeling wasn’t entirely bad.

In fact, it often pushed me toward excellence. Because I believed I had started late, I worked harder. I prepared more seriously. I made the most of every opportunity, or at least I tried to. I didn’t want to merely catch up. I wanted to serve well, lead well, and prove worthy of the responsibilities entrusted to me.

The funny thing is that while I often felt behind, the evidence frequently suggested otherwise.

In the Navy, I was repeatedly entrusted with responsibilities earlier in my commissioned career than was typical. I attended schools and took on career milestone assignments years ahead of my peer group. I took command of a coastal patrol ship after only five and a half years as a commissioned officer, while many of my peers were approaching ten years of commissioned service when they reached similar commands.

I remember attending prospective commanding officer school as a very junior lieutenant. The room was filled with lieutenant commanders, commanders, and even a few captains.

I first walked into the room wondering what I was doing there.

More than once, I walked out wondering what some of them were doing there.

That sounds arrogant. I don’t mean it that way.

What I mean is that reality often contradicted the story I was telling myself.

I thought I was behind.

The organizations evaluating my performance often seemed to have thought otherwise.

The same thing proved true in graduate school and doctoral work. When I finally stepped into those arenas, I did more than survive. By God’s grace, I excelled.

Looking back, I’ve come to realize there’s a difference between being behind and feeling behind.

A person can be behind for a season. Life is full of delays, disappointments, detours, and setbacks.

But when the feeling of being behind becomes part of your identity, no achievement can ever fully cure it.

The degree arrives.

The promotion arrives.

The opportunity arrives.

Yet the voice remains:

“You’re still behind.”

For years, I assumed I was trying to catch up.

Now I recognize something else was happening.

I realize God was preparing me.

That isn’t the same thing.

Preparation often looks like delay when we’re living through it.

Moses probably thought forty years in Midian looked like a detour.

Joseph certainly must have thought prison was quite a setback.

David most likely thought his time as a fugitive in the wilderness was a delay.

Yet in each case, God was doing something deeper than advancing a career. He was forming a person.

The older I get, the more I see God’s hand in experiences that once seemed disconnected.

Military service.

Graduate education.

Pastoral ministry.

Hospital chaplaincy.

Working in a Christian bookstore.

Churches that said no.

Churches I said no to.

A denominational transition.

At the time, many of those experiences felt unrelated. Looking back, I can see how they were shaping me.

Some taught me leadership. Others taught me compassion. Still others developed perseverance and resilience. Together, they prepared me for assignments I couldn't yet see.

I’m not claiming that every decision I made was wise.

Far from it.

Nor am I suggesting that every disappointment was somehow pleasant.

I still haven’t learned to love disappointment.

But I increasingly believe that God’s providence is larger than my mistakes and disappointments, and far bigger than my plans.

For years I measured my life by efficiency and accomplishments.

God seemed more interested in formation.

I measured milestones.

God was building character.

I measured advancement.

God was building endurance.

I measured timelines.

God was preparing me for work I couldn’t yet see.

One of the great ironies of life is that we often spend years wishing we were somewhere else, only to discover later that the place we wanted to leave was the very place God was shaping us.

The hospital room.

The classroom.

The small church.

The difficult assignment.

The unexpected detour.

The season that seemed unproductive.

The relationship that went sour.

Years later, we discover that none of it was wasted.

Maybe you’ve felt this way too.

Perhaps you look around and see people who seem further ahead than you.

They finished school sooner.

Built a successful career sooner.

Found their calling sooner.

Married sooner.

Had children sooner.

Retired sooner.

Perhaps you look back at your own life and see delays, detours, disappointments, and missed opportunities.

If so, let me offer a few thoughts.

First, be careful about comparing your actual life to someone else’s visible success.

You know your struggles, your failures, your disappointments, and your doubts. You rarely know the full story of someone else’s journey. The life you envy may not be nearly as perfect as it appears from a distance.

Second, remember that God often develops people in obscurity before He uses them publicly.

When we admire Moses confronting Pharaoh, we sometimes forget the forty years in Midian.

We admire David the king, but we forget David the fugitive.

We admire Paul the apostle, perhaps the greatest missionary who ever lived, but we forget the years of preparation that followed his conversion.

God’s timetable rarely matches ours.

Third, don’t assume that a season that feels unproductive is actually being wasted.

Usually we can only see the providence of God in the rearview mirror. Some of the most important lessons of my life came during periods that, at the time, felt like interruptions. Looking back, I can see that God was teaching me things I would need later.

Finally, remember that faithfulness matters more than efficiency.

We live in a culture obsessed with speed, optimization, and achievement. We want the shortest path to success.

God often seems more interested in formation than efficiency.

He isn’t just trying to get us somewhere.

He’s shaping us into someone He intends to use for kingdom purposes.

That realization increasingly brings me peace.

I still wonder about the roads not taken from time to time.

I suspect I always will.

But I no longer spend much energy wishing I had traveled them.

Instead, I find myself grateful for the road God actually gave me.

Because the older I get, the more convinced I become that God’s providence is bigger than my mistakes, bigger than my disappointments, and bigger than my carefully constructed plans.

I don’t know what would’ve happened had I made different choices.

Neither do you.

Those lives exist only in our imagination.

But I do know this:

God has been faithful on the road I actually traveled.

And honestly, that’s enough.

So, perhaps the question isn’t whether we are ahead or behind schedule.

Maybe the question is whether we are allowing God to use the road we’re on to make us into the people He intends us to become.

About the Author

Dr. Bart Denny is a pastor, teacher, and retired naval officer who has spent much of his life leading people through seasons of challenge, transition, and renewal. His journey has taken him from nuclear submarines and warships to classrooms, hospital rooms, and struggling churches. Today he serves as Lead Pastor of Pathway – A Wesleyan Church in Saranac, Michigan, where he is passionate about preaching the Gospel, developing leaders, and helping churches rediscover their mission. Through his writing, Bart reflects on faith, leadership, church revitalization, and the surprising ways God uses the winding roads of life to prepare us for His purposes.