The beauty of having an office with wide windows is that it gives you moments to pause—moments to stare into the open canvas of life and let your mind wander.

For weeks, my eyes kept drifting across the street to a house that stood unfinished. When the project began, it was full of promise. The team seemed perfectly assembled—skilled, well-resourced, and eager to rebuild. For months, I watched the steady rhythm of progress: the hum of tools, the shuffle of footsteps, the visible transformation of walls rising from a bare frame.

And then… silence.

The footsteps stopped. The tools disappeared. Days passed without movement. The once-bustling site now looked like a deserted island—still, empty, almost hopeless.

One afternoon, as I stared at that quiet shell of a house, I realized something. The builders had the skill and resources to finish. But this was no longer about resources. Something deeper had stalled the work.

And I realized—this happens in life, too.

In our relationships, careers, and callings, we often begin with the “right” people—those who seem perfectly suited for the journey ahead. But the real question isn’t whether they were right at the start. It’s whether they have the mental fortitude to endure when the path gets long, the flexibility to adapt when the vision changes, and the character to stay hopeful when progress feels slow.

It’s not to dismiss the beginning. Sometimes, the people who start with us will finish with us. Other times, their role was never meant to last to the end—but to complete one essential chapter of the mission. Both are necessary. Both are valuable.

So I’ll leave you with this:

What in your life has come to a standstill—not because of a lack of resources, but because the team, the mindset, or the vision was never meant to carry it to completion?

Sometimes, crossing the finish line requires letting go of what is comfortable, so you can step into what is necessary—into the unseen—where the work is finally brought to life.

Selah!