Can God give us something before it feels “right”? And what do we do when the gift doesn’t match the season we’re in?
Recently, a friend gave me the most beautiful pair of leather boots—soft, strong, and perfectly crafted for snowy winter walks. But here’s the twist: she gave them to me in the dead heat of summer, in North Carolina, where temperatures soar over 100°F (38°C). There’s no possible way I could wear them now. It’s sandals-and-ice-water weather, not wool-socks-and-leather-boots weather.
And yet, when I held them in my hands, I wept.
Because this gift wasn’t just about shoes.
It was a prophetic act of restoration.
You see, two and a half years ago, I was gifted another pair of leather boots—pink, bold, and deeply symbolic—from a powerhouse woman of God. She told me prophetically that I would be walking in her entrepreneurial anointing. Those boots were more than fashion—they carried a mantle, a transference of calling, promise, and spiritual inheritance.
But through a devastating series of losses and spiritual warfare, I was forced to let those boots go. The heartbreak went deeper than leather. It touched my identity, my journey, and the promises that had begun to bloom in my spirit.
And now—out of nowhere, in a season where boots feel wildly unnecessary—God gave them back.
But this time, something had shifted.
“This is your own anointing now.”
It was no longer about walking in someone else’s shoes—it was about stepping into the fullness of my own prophetic promise.
The gift came wrapped in leather and love, but it carried the weight of spiritual restoration, authority, and ownership.
And yet… it still came in the wrong season.
Naturally speaking, at least.
Why now? Why in this sweltering season, when there’s no practical use for the gift?
It raised the question in my spirit:
And if He does, is the gift still good?
Biblical Echoes:
When the Promise Doesn’t Match the Moment
Scripture is full of sacred tension—those holy in-between places where the promise is real, but the timing looks completely off. Moments where heaven speaks… and then nothing happens. Or worse—everything seems to move in the opposite direction.
• David
David was anointed king by the prophet Samuel while still smelling like sheep and rejection. He wasn’t even invited to the ceremony. Oil dripped over the head of a teenager with no throne, no army, no status—just a sling and a heart after God.
And yet the anointing came early.
He would spend years running from Saul, misunderstood and hidden, while holding the unshakeable word: You are king.
• Joseph
Joseph dreamed of ruling—stars and sheaves bowing before him. But instead of honour, he was betrayed, stripped, enslaved, and eventually imprisoned. His gift of dreams and interpretation remained intact, but his circumstances made the dream seem absurd.
And yet, even in chains, the anointing functioned.
• Sarah
Sarah laughed at the promise.
Who could blame her?
She had aged beyond childbearing years, her body no longer aligned with the word spoken. And yet God still declared:
The promise stood unshaken by biology.
Sometimes God gives you a word that doesn’t fit your body, your season, or your logic—but it still fits your destiny.
• The Fig Tree
Jesus approached the fig tree, hungry for fruit. But it was out of season.
Still, He expected to find something. Why? Because in the presence of the King, all seasons submit.
Sometimes He comes looking for fruit before it seems time—because heaven’s timeline isn’t always bound to earth’s logic. He’s not punishing delay; He’s revealing where life should flow.
Sometimes the gift or prophecy comes early.
Sometimes we’re handed something holy we aren’t yet in a position to use.
Sometimes the call feels far bigger than the context.
But that doesn’t mean the gift is wrong.
It doesn’t mean you’ve missed it or that God is teasing you.
It might mean:
- He’s inviting you into a deeper stewardship—to carry the prophecy before it’s public.
- He’s training your identity so you’ll recognise the weight of what’s coming.
- He’s restoring something ahead of time—to rebuild what was stolen before the winter comes.
It’s not denial. It’s divine preparation.
When the moment doesn’t match the promise, trust the One who authored both.
Caring for the Boots Before the Snow Comes
So what do you do with boots you can’t yet wear?
You don’t toss them into the back of the closet like clutter.
You don’t leave them in the heat to dry and crack.
And you don’t dismiss them because they don’t seem “useful” right now.
No—you tend to them.
You clean them gently, even if they’ve never been worn.
You run your hands across the leather, remembering the promise.
You prepare them—because one day, you will need them.
You honor the gift even when it isn’t active.
You steward the anointing before you’re walking fully in it.
This is faith: treating the unseen as already real.
This is maturity: knowing that readiness doesn’t wait for perfect conditions.
When God gives a gift out of season, He’s not mistaken.
He’s training your stewardship, your posture, and your trust.
You care for the boots as a prophetic act.
You keep them visible—because you’re reminding yourself of where you’re going.
You nurture the promise like a gardener tends to a seed long before the fruit appears.
Because whether or not you can wear them today, you’re being fitted for the future.
Winter will come.
And when it does, you’ll already be ready to walk into your promise.
Final Thoughts
You may be holding something today that doesn’t make sense in your current season.
A word you can’t walk in yet.
A promise that doesn’t seem possible.
A prophetic dream that feels disconnected from your daily life.
But hear this:
The Giver knows the times and the seasons.
He never gives from confusion—only from covenant.
And what feels “out of season” may actually be right on time for what heaven is preparing.
The gift isn’t wrong. The moment isn’t wasted.
The boots are a promise—and you’re being prepared.