Your Circumstances Are Not Immutable

"Circumstances were not immutable, no burden so binding that it could not be dropped."

These are lines from Tsitsi Dangarembga’s masterpiece, Nervous Conditions. I realized the truth of this statement today, as I stood at the border between Toronto, Canada, and New York, watching the foaming, roaring brilliance of Niagara Falls. The boats, filled with tourists in their red and blue rain ponchos, were wobbly specks of color against the white rumble, and on the edges, the walkway was filled with a rainbow of people from all around the world, pressing against each other to get a good picture to post on social media.

Thirty years ago, I could only dream of being a part of such a surreal scene. My only consciousness at that time was the weight of my circumstances and a desperation for something new. I had just completed one year of missions with Youth for Christ and was convinced that God was directing me to go to Bible school, but I did not even have the money to pay my application fee. My mom thought that it was time for me to get a job and help support the family, and almost everyone else looked confused and skeptical when I voiced my belief that I was called into full-time ministry.

During this time, I was still reeling from the wonder of my year in the deep end on the mission field, moaning under the weight of my reality at home, where my stepfather’s alcoholism and the itch of perpetual poverty felt like a jacket that I had no choice but to wear again. I felt myself sinking fast when one of my team leaders threw me a lifeline. He wrote to find out how I was handling what they called reentry, and then gave me this verse:

“No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:37–39)

Receiving that letter reassured me of two truths: I am not forgotten, and I am loved.

Armed with these basic human privileges, I decided to try. I spoke to my pastor about my desire to go to Bible college, and he gave me some information on how to proceed. Then I shamelessly started fundraising, asking for donations from my church family and selling food and whatever else I could lay my hands on to cover registration costs. I had no idea where the rest of my tuition fees would come from, but I was convinced that my Father, who loved me, would take care of it when the time came, and He did.

Sometimes it was through scholarships, other times through a generous gift, and mostly through various part-time jobs, from working in the school cafeteria to handing out samples in the shopping mall and enduring the rantings of frustrated customers at call centers. All these opportunities were proof that my circumstances may have looked like great mountains, but they were not immovable. All I had to do was chip at them, little by little.

As I watched the water rush past the border, I realized that Niagara Falls was more than a tourist destination. It was a reminder of all the in-between places where God had met me: between poverty and provision, uncertainty and calling, fear and faith. Standing there, I recognized the generative potential of in-between spaces.

The first lesson is the power of choice. Circumstances shape us, but they do not completely define us. Even in seasons when options seem painfully limited, there are still small choices available to us. We can choose to ask for help, submit the application, make the phone call, or take the next faithful step. Looking back, I realize that every small decision mattered. I could not control my family situation, but I could choose to move toward the future I sensed God was calling me into.

The second lesson is the propulsion of love. Knowing that I was loved by God did not remove my problems, but it changed how I faced them. Failure no longer had the power to define me because my worth was not rooted in success. Love gave me courage. It allowed me to risk disappointment, rejection, and uncertainty because I knew that none of those things could separate me from the love of Christ.

The third lesson is the momentum of motion. Mountains rarely move all at once. Most transformations happen through a series of small, ordinary steps. One application. One conversation. One shift at work. One act of obedience. Looking back, I can see that progress was often slow, but motion itself became a form of hope.

Just in case you are wondering, yes, I completed my education and was ordained as an elder. Not only that, I have had the privilege of serving Christ in South Africa, Mozambique, and a wide array of countries around the globe.

My circumstances are not just mutable; they are subject to the generous grace available to me as I trust Christ daily.

Perhaps you are standing in your own in-between space today. Maybe the distance between where you are and where you believe God is calling you feels impossible to cross. If so, remember this: circumstances are not immutable. The God who met me in a small Township church is still at work. Take the next step. Trust His love. Keep moving.