There are moments in scripture that feel less like ancient history and more like God placing His hand gently on our shoulder. While studying 1 Samuel 16 a few weeks ago, I realized that was one of those moments. It is a chapter that begins with a question that cuts straight through the fog that we are often living in.
“How long will you mourn of Saul, since I have rejected him…?”
It’s God speaking to Samuel, but God relays the same message to us. Because every one of us has a “Saul”— something we wanted to work, something we prayed would last, something we believed in, something we poured ourselves into— that God ultimately said no to.
And the truth is, we don’t always know how to move on from the things that God has moved us past. Samuel was not being dramatic. He wasn’t being stubborn. And he wasn’t being faithless. He was simply grieving.
Samuel had invested years into Saul’s leadership. He had anointed him, he had believed in him, and he had hoped for him. And when Saul failed, Samuel felt the weight of that disappointment in his bones.
But here’s the tension: Samuel was mourning a story that God had clearly already closed. And God, in His kindness, steps into Saul’s grief— not to shame him, and not to rush him either, but to redirect him.
“How long will you mourn…?”
Not Why are you sad?
Not Get over it.
Not Move on already.
Just a question that invites Saul to notice something: your heart is still in a place I’ve already left.
We mourn the relationship God protected us from.
We mourn the job that looked promising, but wasn’t aligned with our virtues.
We mourn the friendship that drifted.
We mourn the version of life we imagined— the timeline, the plan, the picture we painted in our heads.
And sometimes, we mourn things that were never God’s best for us in the first place.
We call it loyalty.
We call it faithfulness.
We call it “trying one more time.”
But God calls it what it is:
Mounting something He has already rejected for our own good.
Not rejected because it was evil.
Not rejected because we failed.
Rejected because it simply wasn’t the path that would lead us into the fullness of who He is forming us to be.
When asks Samuel, “How long will you mourn…?” He is not minimizing Samuel’s pain. He is reminding him of something deeper:
Grief is holy, but staying stuck is not.
There’s a difference between honoring what was and clinging to what can no longer be.
God was not telling Samuel to stop feeling; He was telling him to stop camping out in a season that had ended.
And then God gives Samuel the next step— a step that shifts the entire story of the Bible.
“Fill your horn with oil and be on your way”
In other words,
There is still purpose ahead.
There is still anointing ahead.
There is still a future ahead.
But you cannot carry it while holding onto what I have already closed.
We don’t want to admit the relationship was not healthy.
We don’t want to admit the opportunity was not God’s will.
We don’t want to admit the dream we had wasn’t the dream God had.
We don’t want to admit that letting go is actually obedience.
So we stay in the doorway of a closed chapter, hoping that it will magically reopen. But God is not in the business of resurrecting what He never intended to sustain; He is in the business leading us into what is next.
But, this is the story that is truly astonishing to me:
While Samuel was mourning Saul, David was already alive. Already chosen. Already being shaped. Already in position. Samuel just had not met him yet.
And that is true for us too. While we are grieving what didn’t work out, God is preparing what will. While we are replaying the past, God is writing the next chapter. While we are holding onto what we lost, God is forming what we are meant to gain.
Your “David”— the next assignment, the next season, the next open door— is not waiting on God, it is waiting on you to stop mourning Saul.
Releasing what God has released is not giving up. It’s not quitting. It’s not weakness. Rather, it’s obedience. It’s trust. It’s saying “God I want Your will more than I want my version of the story.”
And that is the posture that positions us for the new anointing, the new direction, the new chapter that God is ready to write.
Maybe today is the day you stop standing in the doorway of what could have been.
Maybe today is the you stop mourning what God has already moved you past.
Maybe today is the day you pick up your horn— your purpose, your calling, your identity— and step into the next thing God has prepared.
Not because you’re over it.
Not because it doesn’t hurt.
Not because you’re suddenly ready.
But, because God is gently asking:
“How long will you mourn what I’ve already released?”