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.
A virus can shut down nations.
A phone call can rewrite your tomorrow.
A diagnosis can erase your schedule.
And suddenly you realize — you’re not in control; you’re in His care.
James says, “You boast in your arrogance. All such boasting is evil.”
It’s not that planning is wrong — it’s that planning without surrender is foolish.
The heart that says “I will” without “If the Lord wills” is walking in self-deception.
But the heart that says “Inshallah” with faith — not as an excuse, but as an act of trust — is walking in the Spirit.
The Waiting Room of Faith
Some of God’s best work happens in the waiting room.
Abraham waited twenty-five years for a promised son.
Joseph waited in a prison cell for years before a throne.
David waited through a decade of running before he wore a crown.
Mary waited nine months while the world slept, unaware that salvation was kicking beneath her heart.
And Jesus waited — thirty silent years in Nazareth before three years that changed eternity.
Waiting isn’t wasted time — it’s weaving time.
God uses delay to deepen our dependence.
He slows us down so that grace can catch up.
We want the miracle now.
God says, “Inshallah — when I will.”
When God’s Silence is Not His Absence
Sometimes we misinterpret God’s silence.
We think His delay means disinterest.
But faith learns that silence is not absence — it’s often preparation.
When Lazarus was sick, Jesus delayed on purpose.
When the disciples were in the storm, He was asleep on purpose.
When heaven seems quiet, it’s not because God has walked away — it’s because He’s working beneath the surface.
Waiting seasons reveal whether we trust His character or just His calendar.
The Cross – God’s Perfect “Inshallah”
The greatest act of waiting in history happened in Gethsemane.
Jesus prayed, “Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me… nevertheless, not My will but Yours be done.”
That’s divine Inshallah.
The Son submitting to the Father’s timing.
And the next day, on the Cross, the silence of God became the salvation of man.
What looked like delay was design.
What felt like defeat was destiny.
At Calvary, God’s “Inshallah” was fulfilled — not as man desired, but as heaven decreed.
Three days later, when the tomb opened, all creation could cry, “Mashallah — look what God has willed!”
Living the Inshallah Life
How do we live this out?
Not by fatalism, but by faith.
1. Plan diligently, but hold loosely.
We still plan, but our plans are pencils, and God holds the eraser.
2. Pray continually, but accept peacefully.
When God closes a door, don’t kick it down. Ask what He’s protecting you from.
3. Wait patiently, but act faithfully.
Faith doesn’t sit idle; it obeys the last command while waiting for the next one.
4. Rejoice humbly, but remember constantly.
When blessings come, don’t say, “Look what I did.” Say, “Mashallah — look what God has done.”
A True Story – The Dictator Who Feared Tomorrow
I once stayed in the summer house of Enver Hoxha, the former dictator of Albania.
He ruled with an iron fist, declaring his nation atheist, building bunkers against imaginary enemies, and living in paranoia of what tomorrow might bring.
The man who tried to control everything could not say Inshallah.
He died in fear, while the land he tried to seal off now sings worship songs to Christ again.
Human control collapses. Divine sovereignty endures.
History bows to the same truth James wrote two thousand years ago:
“You do not know what tomorrow will bring.”
The Invitation – Inshallah and Wait
Maybe you’ve been saying, “Tomorrow, I’ll fix it. Tomorrow, I’ll forgive. Tomorrow, I’ll come back to God.”
James would say, “You don’t own tomorrow.”
Today is the day of surrender.
Not just Inshallah with your lips, but Inshallah with your life.
Say it not as a shrug of resignation, but as a shout of faith:
“Lord, my plans, my pace, my path — all in Your will.”
And when the waiting stretches long, and you whisper Ya’Allah through tears, remember:
The same God who hears your cry will one day bring you to Mashallah praise.
So, Inshallah… and wait.
Because God’s timing is never late — it’s eternal.
