The Echo of a Promise Never Kept

 

A Reflection on Broken Plans and the God Who Keeps His Word

“God is not a man, that He should lie,
nor a son of man, that He should change His mind.
Does He speak and then not act?
Does He promise and not fulfill?”
—Numbers 23:19 (NIV)

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It was a promise that came softly, like a gift wrapped in friendship:
“We should go away for our 50th,” she said. “Just the two of us.”

And it meant something—because she meant something.
She had been there for so many seasons.
She knew my stories, my grief, my laughter before the silence.

And for a while, that small future moment—just a weekend, just a getaway—became something sacred to me.
Not because of the destination.
But because of the meaning.
Because someone said: “You matter enough to make time for.”

But time passed.
Loss layered itself again—I buried my father just after my husband.
And still, I reminded her of the trip. She reassured me: “Let’s do it at 50 and a half.”
And I waited.

And she never brought it up again.

She celebrated in other ways. Planned other trips.
Included others—some who had also tasted grief.
But not me.

No follow-up. No reschedule. No remembering.

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That kind of forgetting can feel like erasure.

It makes you question:
Did I matter as much as I thought I did?
Did that moment mean something to her—or only to me?
Was I always the one who cared more?

And grief, already so heavy, finds new weight in those kinds of absences.

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But here’s the truth that steadies me now:

God does not forget.
He is not like people. He doesn’t over-promise and under-deliver.
He doesn’t speak fond words in January and forget you by June.
He doesn’t retreat when your grief makes things complicated.

When He says, “Come away with Me,” He means it.
When He whispers, “I will be with you always,” He stays.
When He speaks hope over your life, He doesn’t get distracted and move on.

God is not afraid of your longing.
He doesn’t step back when you need too much.
He doesn’t assume you wouldn’t want to be included.

Where people made assumptions,
God makes invitations.
Where people drifted,
God draws near.

Where a human forgot to follow through,
God remembers every sacred thing you’ve ever hoped for.

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If you are carrying a forgotten promise:

• A trip that was never planned

• A friendship that quietly disappeared

• A phone call that never came

• A moment that was supposed to happen but didn’t

You are not foolish for remembering.
You are not too much for holding on.
You are not wrong for grieving what never became.

But you also don’t have to keep waiting in that doorway.

Because there’s a different kind of invitation being written for you now—
not in someone’s forgotten calendar,
but in God’s eternal memory.

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You are remembered.

You are included.
You are wanted.
You are not invisible in the presence of God.

And the space where others failed to follow through?
That’s where God is gently saying:

“Come with Me. I’ve prepared something better.
You didn’t imagine the need.
You just misplaced the one who could meet it.”

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Reflection Questions:

1. Is there a promise someone made to you that was never fulfilled?

2. How have you carried the ache of that absence?

3. Where do you sense God drawing near in that space?

4. What invitation from God have you been overlooking while waiting for people?