It was 2015, and I found myself in a moment that would reshape my understanding of fate. I had flown from Toronto to Atlanta for a crucial meeting, my flight scheduled for 8:30 a.m. Punctuality is my hallmark; being late is foreign to me. So I left home early, arriving at Toronto Pearson Airport by 6:30 a.m., confident that an hour would suffice for customs. But that day, the universe had other plans.
The terminal was a sea of humanity, as if the entire city had decided to cross the border at once. The queue stretched endlessly, and by 8:00 a.m., I was still crawling forward. Anxiety gnawed at me, but I clung to hope. Then, the public address system called my name: “Mr. Ayodele Akerele, we are about to close the boarding gate. Please proceed to gate number XYZ.”
Panic took hold. I begged those ahead of me to let me through, but no one budged. Inside the air-conditioned terminal, I was sweating from sheer stress. At 8:25 a.m., I was finally cleared. That’s when the real race began.
I sprinted, faster than I ever had in an airport, weaving through barriers and people. In my desperation, I pushed through a security door, triggering an alarm. Nothing else mattered except catching that plane. What I didn’t realize was that I had become a red flag. Surveillance cameras had tracked my erratic behavior. To airport security, I was no longer just a late passenger—I was a potential threat. Within seconds, US and Canadian security agents intercepted me at the boarding tunnel.
“Where are you going? Who are you?” they demanded, their voices sharp.
I handed over my passport and boarding pass, breathless. “You can’t force your way through a secured area,” one said firmly. “Sir, we’re sorry, but you’ve missed your flight.” Frustration, exhaustion, and disappointment washed over me. I had done everything right, yet I still failed.
They escorted me back and rebooked me on the 10:30 a.m. flight at no cost—an unexpected kindness. As I sat trying to calm down, questions flooded my mind: What had I just done? What if they had mistaken me for a threat? What if things had gone terribly wrong? What if they had opened fire?
In that moment of reflection, I had no idea something greater was unfolding. What felt like frustration was, in reality, a divine orchestration. I boarded the later flight and arrived safely in Atlanta. After clearing customs and collecting my luggage, I headed to the pickup area where my host was to meet me.
Then, the unexpected happened. A man approached me, visibly distressed, sick, weary, and unkempt. There was a heaviness about him that I couldn’t ignore. I felt a strong prompting in my spirit to engage. He began sharing his story—his struggles, health challenges, and the weight bearing down on him. Without hesitation, right there in that public space, I held his hands and prayed for him.
As I prayed, he said something I will never forget: “I can feel the touch of God in my body.” People passed by, but I paid no attention. That moment mattered more than anything else. When we finished, he testified that something had changed within him. I encouraged him, shared words of hope, and gave him a couple of my books. We exchanged contact information, embraced, and parted ways.
Then came the realization. Deep within, I heard this clearly: “I allowed you to miss your flight because of this man.” Tears filled my eyes. What I had perceived as inconvenience was, in truth, divine positioning.
This experience taught me powerful truths. Friends, many of you may be facing delays, detours, or disappointments. You may feel like an enemy of God or the church, deceived by fate. It’s easy to feel discouraged, but take heart: for those who walk with God, disappointments are often divine appointments. No matter how far you feel from your destination, remember this: all things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His purpose, as Romans 8:28 says.
From that day forward, my perspective changed. I no longer see delays and detours as mere obstacles. Instead, I recognize them as tools for growth, moments where destiny is quietly being shaped. Across continents—Africa, Europe, and North America—what once appeared as setbacks have become strategic turning points. My delays, losses, and unexpected turns have all contributed to the impact I am privileged to make today. If God could turn my missed flight into a moment of purpose, He can certainly do the same for you. Trust the process. Embrace the delay. Your destiny may be waiting on the other side of it. God manages the entire affairs of the universe; He can’t mismanage your destiny.
