Inshallah… And Wait

Introduction – The Word That Waits

I once heard a story about a missionary who had served for twenty years in Lahore, Pakistan.

He had learned many things in those two decades — how to drink tea politely, how to haggle in the market, how to stay calm when the electricity cut out for the fifth time that day.

But somehow, he never quite mastered the Urdu language.

When he came home on furlough, his church asked him to offer the morning prayer — “in Urdu, just like you did overseas.” So he stood behind the pulpit, sweating a little, and began to pray. He counted slowly and carefully as he spoke — one phrase after another, like a man tiptoeing through a minefield of forgotten vocabulary. Finally, he reached the end, bowed his head, and whispered a relieved “Amen.”

There was a pause… and then a deep bass voice from the back of the church boomed,

“Shabash!” — which in Urdu means, “Well done!”

***

Language is a funny thing. Words carry worlds inside them.

Some words are windows; some are mirrors.

And every now and then, one word becomes a bridge between cultures — or even between heaven and earth.

One of those words is “Inshallah.”

“Bukra, Inshallah” – The Phrase that Delays and Reveals

If you’ve ever traveled or lived in the Middle East, you know the phrase:

“Bukra, Inshallah.” (Literally, “Tomorrow, if God wills.”)

You’ll hear it at the market, the bank, the airport, the post office.

You’ll hear it when you ask for something to be done soon.

You might even hear it when a man really means, “Don’t hold your breath.”

You order your car repaired? “Bukra, Inshallah.”

You ask for your mail? “Bukra, Inshallah.”

You’re waiting for your paperwork? “Bukra, Inshallah.”

And the Westerner inside you wants to scream, “Just say yes or no!”

But the deeper you listen, the more you realize that Inshallah isn’t laziness — it’s theology.

It’s a worldview in three syllables: “If God wills.”

It’s an acknowledgment that life isn’t ours to schedule.

That calendars and clocks are just paper and metal in the hands of an eternal God.

Ya’Allah, Inshallah, Mashallah – The Three Heartbeats of Faith

There are three common expressions across the Arabic-speaking world — you hear them in every conversation, shouted across courtyards, whispered in prayer.

Ya’Allah. Inshallah. Mashallah.

Each one tells a part of the story of faith.

Ya’Allah — “O God!” — the cry for help when strength runs out.

Inshallah — “If God wills” — the posture of surrender while you wait.

Mashallah — “What God has willed” — the sigh of praise when the promise comes true.

If you listen closely, those three words are like the journey of every believer:

The cry, the wait, and the praise.

The Prime Minister’s Prayer – Inshallah, Mashallah, Ya’Allah

During the 1999 Kosovo crisis, Albania was led by Prime Minister Pandeli Majko.

The whole region was trembling. Refugees were flooding across borders. The world waited to see whether NATO would intervene.

Before America got involved, Majko reportedly sighed, “Inshallah.”

When the Americans arrived with support, he smiled and said, “Mashallah.”

But when the bombing began and the situation spun out of control, he threw up his hands and cried,

“Ya’Allah, Allah Allah!”

That’s the human story in miniature — when the plan, the blessing, and the panic all come together.

We say Inshallah when we hope, Mashallah when we celebrate, and Ya’Allah when we fear.

But the question of faith is this:

Can we still say Inshallah — If God wills — even when everything in us wants to shout Ya’Allah!?

The Scripture Speaks – “If the Lord Wills”

James 4:13–15 is one of the most practical passages in the New Testament.

He’s writing to believers who were confident planners — merchants, travelers, businesspeople.

They said things like, “Tomorrow we’ll go here, make money there, expand next year.”

James doesn’t condemn the planning — he condemns the presumption.

He says, “You don’t even know what will happen tomorrow.”

You are a mist — visible for a moment, then gone.

Instead, he says, learn to say, “If the Lord wills.”

That’s not superstition. That’s submission.

It’s not a phrase to sprinkle over our plans — it’s a posture to build our lives on.

It means our calendar belongs to Christ.

It means our ambitions are subject to God’s wisdom.

It means the road ahead is His to open or close.

Inshallah is not a loophole — it’s a lifeline to divine sovereignty.

The Arrogance of Presumption

We live in a culture that thrives on control.

We measure productivity in quarterly results and project deadlines.

We teach children to “set goals and go get them.”

And yet, the more we plan, the more fragile life becomes.