Perfect Timing

“Temper zeal with patience. God accelerates, but he never rushes.”

—Andrena Sawyer, author, speaker, and entrepreneur

“Timing isn’t everything. It’s the only thing.”

—Miles Davis, American jazz trumpeter, bandleader, and composer

“But when the right time came, God sent his Son, who was born from a woman and lived under the law. God did this so he could buy the freedom of those who were under the law. God’s purpose was to make us his children.”

—From Paul’s letter to the Galatians chapter 4, verse 4

Over the last few decades, I have taken over 15,000 people on trips to volunteer everywhere from the projects of New York City to deep into the most poverty-stricken areas of the world. From the Somali refugee ghettos of Nairobi, Kenya, to the rainforest coffee farms of Nicaragua, to the public schools of Quito, Ecuador, I have led bands of faith-motivated adventurers.

And things don’t always go as planned.

About a decade ago, I led a group from Colorado and California to build homes for Oaxacan migrant workers in the poverty-stricken San Quintín Valley of Baja. Our crew was a mix of teens, a high-voltage electrician, a diesel mechanic named Josh—and “Crazy Rosie,” an elderly Puerto Rican woman with a giant cartoon cross she called the “happy cross.” She handed out mini versions to kids and preached joy in rapid-fire Spanish that even native Spanish speakers struggled to follow. But she made friends fast.

The week was transformative. Teens became semi-skilled carpenters while building homes for the working poor. Rosie held impromptu Sunday school with her props. No one fixed engines or wired buildings—but hearts were changed.

On the way back, I drove the lead van with Krista, the Colorado team leader. We were tight on time, hoping to make their flight—until the radio crackled: “We just blew a tire.” Smoke billowed behind us. I told Krista, “No problem.” Then came the update: “The tire shredded the AC hoses. Coolant’s pouring out. Our van is dead.”

Krista looked panicked. I said, “Don’t worry. It’ll be like Signs.”

She blinked. “What?”

“You know. It’s that Mel Gibson movie about crop circles by M. Night Shyamalan.” The look on her face told me I needed to connect the dots. I quickly reviewed the plot of the film.

“In the movie, Mel Gibson’s wife has died and the family is in trauma. His daughter leaves cups of water everywhere in the house compulsively. In the flashbacks to his wife’s death, the last thing she says to Mel Gibson is ‘Tell Merril to swing away.’

“Her brother, Merril, played by Joaquin Phoenix, had been a record-setting home run hitter in minor league baseball and the bat from when he hit a 507’ homerun was still hanging on the wall.”

I looked at Krista. Her face clearly expressed her thoughts. Something like: I can’t believe I brought a bunch of volunteers from Colorado to cross an international border to go to the middle of nowhere to work with a crazy person. Who could blame her?

I talked faster now. “When the aliens finally invade, it turns out they are like the wicked witch of the west—if you throw water on them, it hurts them. And Mel Gibson’s daughter has left the OCD cups of water everywhere and everyone starts throwing them at the alien. Then Mel realizes what his wife said and takes the baseball bat off the wall and tosses it to Joaquin Phoenix and tells him, ‘Swing away! Swing away!’

“In the alien’s weakened state, they beat him down with the bat. Don’t you see? They had everything they needed all along!”

Krista now looked at me as if she never really knew she travelled with a clinically insane person and reconsidered her ability to assess someone’s mental health.

Ten minutes later, we arrived. Fifty teens lined the hill. Josh cut and stretched hoses. The electrician made clamps from stripped wire. Rosie recruited locals for water, and teens relayed Coke bottles and cups to refill the radiator. It was a pit crew miracle.

As we pulled out and continued toward the US/Mexico border, I looked over at Krista and said, “See. Just like signs.”

With a look of astonishment mixed with relief on her face, she asked, “How did you know?”

I smiled. “When you keep putting yourself in places where God must come through—or you’re toast—you start seeing him do it. Over and over.”

God performs perfect timing.

Writing History in VR

God exists outside of time. Theologians call him omniscient, but let’s skip the deep dive. Imagine being able to remember the past and preview the future in perfect virtual reality. Time wouldn’t touch you. It’d be like owning a VR DVR—rewind, fast-forward, jump to any moment on the timeline. No limits. No lag.

God transcends time. He is more powerful than the bounds of chronology. He is eternal and finds himself on no finite timeline.

But God decided to step into time for our sake and his timing is impeccable:

But when the right time came, God sent his Son.^[1]

Think about it. God sent his Son when the right time came.

The implication is clear; the time wasn’t always right for God to send His Son.

Let me explain.

At exactly the right point in history, Jesus stepped in and split the calendar into B.C. and A.D. (before and after Christ). The historical impact has been cemented ever since.

But what made it the right time in history? It seems God waited for humans on a couple of points. What were those?

It might be more practical than you think. Language and travel were the factors making it possible, for the first time, for the gospel could spread like wildfire.

Jesus spoke Aramaic. So did most Jews in his day. It was the local language, familiar and earthy. But here’s the twist: the gospel didn’t spread in Aramaic—it spread in Greek.

Surprised? You’re not alone.

The New Testament was written in Greek, even though Jesus taught in Aramaic. Why? Because Greek was the universal marketplace language of the Roman world. Thanks to Alexander the Great, Greek culture and language had gone viral centuries earlier—and it stuck. For the first time, the known world shared a common tongue, and the gospel had a highway to travel on.

Speaking of highways…

Travel was just as crucial. The Romans didn’t just build roads—they built the first international highway system. Sure, roads existed before, but Roman roads came with something new: patrols. Safety. Before that, travel meant risking your life to bandits or relying on private security—if you could afford it.

But under Rome, soldiers moved regularly. Systems were in place. Non-citizens could be conscripted to carry gear for a mile (Jesus referenced this when he said to go the extra mile). Soldiers even policed the roads like ancient highway patrol.

Suddenly, the world was connected—by language and by road.

The same is true of urbanization, which played a major role—people were packed into cities, and ideas moved fast. The Pax Romana (Roman Peace) made it safer than ever to share new religious beliefs without immediately getting arrested or attacked. Meanwhile, synagogues had popped up all over the empire thanks to the Jewish diaspora, giving early Christians ready-made launchpads for the gospel.

And then there was the Roman postal system—yes, the ancient version of FedEx. It allowed churches to circulate letters from apostles like Paul, spreading theology, encouragement, and instruction across continents.

All of it—language, roads, peace, cities, synagogues, mail—lined up like dominoes.

God didn’t just send His Son at a good time. He sent Him at the perfect time. A moment when the message could move faster, farther, and deeper than ever before.

Personal Time

God doesn’t just move through empires and calendars—He moves through hearts. In my years of encouraging people to become followers of Jesus, I’ve asked many how they made that decision. And without fail, their stories point to divine timing. A moment when everything aligned. A crisis, a conversation, a quiet whisper of hope.

At just the right time, the God of the universe stepped into their inner world—not with fanfare, but with surprise hope, piercing truth, and relentless love.

But God’s perfect timing isn’t only historical and personal—it’s strategic.

In John’s gospel, chapter 7, it tells us Jesus was traveling around Galilee. He wanted to stay out of Judea, where the Jewish leaders were plotting his death. But soon it was time for the Jewish Festival of Shelters, and Jesus’ brothers said to him, “Leave here and go to Judea, where your followers can see your miracles! You can’t become famous if you hide like this! If you can do such wonderful things, show yourself to the world!” For even his brothers didn’t believe in him.

Jesus replied, “Now is not the right time for me to go, but you can go anytime. The world can’t hate you, but it does hate me because I accuse it of doing evil. You go on. I’m not going to this festival, because my time has not yet come.” After saying these things, Jesus remained in Galilee.[2]

Jesus didn’t just practice patience—he operated with strategic, divine timing. His life was marked by an acute awareness of when to act, not just how.

At the wedding in Cana, his mother nudged him to perform a miracle. He responded, “My time hasn’t come yet.” (Of course, Mary overruled him—because even Jesus’ mom knew how to get things done.)

When Jesus healed people, he often told them not to spread the news. Why? Because it wasn’t the right time. He wasn’t chasing fame—he was following a mission.

He even delayed travel intentionally. The most dramatic example? Lazarus. Jesus waited four days—long enough for the body to begin decaying—so that when he raised Lazarus, no one could chalk it up to a parlor trick. It was unmistakable: life had conquered death.

Jesus didn’t just move with purpose—he moved with precision.

Every delay was deliberate. Every moment, measured.

Because when you’re on God’s timeline, timing isn’t just important—it’s everything.

Learning to be Instinctual

Timing is a somewhat intangible force. As a musician and band leader, I played with many drummers. The worst drummers were sometimes the most practiced and technically correct. But they lacked the intrinsic internal clock. Some of the best guys I played with were sometimes undisciplined, seldom practiced, and a little flakey. But they carried a God-given internal sense of timing which cannot be taught—it’s an instinct.

I’ve seen God’s timing at work in my life over and over again. God provided financial miracles, family miracles, and redemptive divine appointments. And I’ve learned to wait. This is one of the few lessons God will teach you which will create great frustration to those in your life.

Jesus’ brothers didn’t get it. It’s time to shine—strike while the iron is hot, they thought. But Jesus knew differently. He knew what God wanted and understood strategic timing.

I’ve driven people crazy with my learned patience, but I’ve learned. And one of those things I’ve learned is that patience and prayer go together.

For fifty-two years my grandmother lived as a chain-smoking alcoholic. Two failed marriages, dozens of broken relationships, and a closed heart to religion marked her life. As a little boy, she would explain to me that my parents were too God-crazy. She actually said she would rather my dad be gay than a Christian (hard to unpack on so many levels, right?)

She led a hard life. At 5:00 am, she would start each day with a Bloody Mary and move to other drinks from there. I made it to my twenties before I ever saw her truly sober for the first time. I prayed for my grandmother before I really even followed Christ myself. Almost every day from eight years old until twenty-seven, I prayed for my grandmother. I feared for her soul. She played a major role in my life and I tried over the years to talk to her about eternity, but she shut it down pretty quickly every time. Eventually, I decided to pray… and wait.

And wait I did, until I was twenty-seven. On a plane somewhere over Haiti on another long flight, I put pen to paper and made my case for why my grandma should accept Christ. I couldn’t explain why the time seemed right, but it did. She experienced some health problems, but nothing new—results of a chain-smoking alcoholic. As a career postmaster of a small post office, she often pestered us grandkids to write more letters, which we always avoided, but now with a legal pad, a pen and poor handwriting, I poured my heart out. I explained that I had waited nineteen years to write this letter.

In the next several months, my grandmother’s health deteriorated, and she found herself in the hospital. She became dependent on three different machines. And, she came to faith in Christ. I remember the day she called me to tell me she decided to unhook the machines. She explained that she was unafraid to go be with God now. I said goodbye and she died that night—in peace.

God’s perfect timing for me turned strategic. For her, his perfect timing became redemptive. For all of humanity, God’s perfect timing is historic.

It’s all about timing.

Mel Gibson finally saw the signs at the right time, but only God’s timing is just right every time.

[1] Galatians 4:4

[2] John 7:1-9