HOW DO I MAKE MONEY IN HARD TIMES LIKE NOW?

                                                                                       

                                       

A highly respected friend asked me this question this week, and I suspect many of us are quietly asking it too.

It is a fair question, and a timely one. So let us sit with it honestly.

Hard times do not eliminate money. They change where it flows. People become more cautious, but they do not stop spending. They simply become far more selective about what they will pay for.

So alongside how do I make money, it helps to also ask what problem can I solve. Income is usually the consequence of value delivered, not the goal chased directly.

Look closely at the difficulty around you. Inflation, uncertainty, inefficiency, business pressure, changing habits. Every one of these creates friction. And friction, for the person paying attention, creates opportunity.

In hard times, usefulness outweighs appearance. People postpone luxuries. They do not postpone anything that saves them money, makes them money, reduces risk, or makes a hard problem easier to carry. If you want a practical starting point, ask yourself honestly which of these four your skill or offer touches. That single question can sharpen almost any idea.

You may already hold the skill that someone urgently needs. Before searching for an entirely new venture, look again at what you already know how to do well. Write down three things people already come to you for, even informally. One of them is likely closer to income than you have given it credit for.

Do not wait for one big breakthrough. Several modest income streams, built with integrity, can carry you further than one dramatic idea that never arrives. Consulting, a service, a product, teaching, a small offer here and there. Resilience is often built quietly, stream by stream, not through a single dramatic leap.

Busyness is not the same as productivity. Hard times tempt us to chase every opportunity that appears. Before you say yes to the next one, ask a simple question. What does this actually cost me in effort and risk, and what does it realistically return? That one habit alone will save you from a great deal of wasted motion.

Cash flow deserves as much attention as income. A person can look profitable on paper and still struggle, simply because money is not arriving when it is needed. Know what is owed to you, know what you owe, and check the gap between them regularly. Managing that gap is as much a skill as earning itself.

Guard yourself against desperation. Hard times make people vulnerable to shortcuts, excessive borrowing, and schemes that promise too much too quickly. Whatever pressure you feel, do not let it dismantle the financial foundation you have spent years building. Slower and steady still outlasts fast and fragile.

Relationships still matter more than transactions. Trust, reputation, and the people who vouch for you quietly become some of the most valuable assets you carry in a difficult market. Nurture them even when there is nothing immediate to gain from them.

And learn to speak about what you offer. A good skill or a good product held in silence helps no one. Value that is never communicated remains value that is never realised. You do not need to be loud. You only need to be clear and consistent about what you do and who it helps.

But something needs saying clearly here, because money pressure has a way of making us feel powerless, as though our worth is now measured only by what we can no longer give.

That is not true.

There is a form of giving that has nothing to do with money or goods. It is giving of yourself. Your presence, your attentiveness, your respect for another person, freely offered. Abd-ru-shin writes that in this giving of yourself, in the consideration and respect you voluntarily extend to your neighbour, lies the love of which Jesus spoke, and lies also the help that enables another person to rise, drawing strength from what you gave.

If money were the only currency of usefulness, then anyone without it would have nothing left to offer. That was never the design. You remain useful even at the point of your own lack.

One caution belongs alongside all of this. A low level desire just to make money at all costs can slowly open the door to shortcuts that compromise who you are. Guard your character as closely as you guard your income.

When times are hard, do not merely look for where the money is. Look for where the problems are. Money tends to follow those who can solve problems!

And should we ever be hard pressed, even at the point of our greatest need, let us remember that when the need is greatest, the Almighty's help is nearest to us.

And even when money is slow to come, remain someone whose presence, kindness and contribution continue to bring value to the lives of those around you.

WHEN LIFE DOESN’T GO AS PLANNED

 

Sometimes what you call a failed plan is simply a different route to a life you could not yet see.

We all make plans. We plan our careers, businesses, marriages, finances, families and futures. Yet life has a way of disrupting even our most carefully constructed plans.

A business fails. A relationship ends. A long-awaited opportunity disappears. Money becomes tight. A career takes an unexpected turn. A child chooses a path we never imagined. And suddenly, we wonder: What happened to the life I planned?

But perhaps we need to look at life differently.

A changed plan is not necessarily a ruined life. Sometimes, it is simply an invitation to discover something we could not see from where we stood.

The wisdom embedded in the laws of Creation does not always give us what we want when we want it. Yet, if we are willing to learn, our experiences can serve something deeper: our spiritual growth and maturity.

Perhaps that difficult season is teaching you patience.

Perhaps the disappointment is preparing you for greater responsibility.

Perhaps the closed door is forcing you to discover abilities you never knew you possessed.

Perhaps the person who walked away is teaching you that your happiness cannot depend entirely on another human being.

Perhaps financial difficulty is teaching you discipline, contentment and the difference between what you want and what you truly need.

This does not mean we should become passive or stop pursuing our goals. We should plan, work hard, seek opportunities and take responsibility for our lives. But we should also recognise that we do not see the whole picture.

Sometimes, we become so attached to our plans that we mistake our preferred outcome for the only possible good outcome.

There is wisdom in knowing when to persevere and wisdom in knowing when to accept that a particular path has ended.

The real tragedy is not that life sometimes changes our plans. The tragedy is allowing disappointment to make us bitter, fearful or spiritually stagnant.

When things do not go as planned, ask a better question:

“What is this experience trying to teach me?”

That question can transform disappointment into wisdom.

Life is not merely about acquiring wealth, achieving status, finding comfort or having everything happen according to our wishes. There is a deeper purpose to our existence: to develop as human beings, to grow in wisdom, character and spiritual maturity.

So, if your life is not currently looking the way you imagined, do not conclude that everything has gone wrong.

Perhaps you are simply being led along a road you did not know existed.

Walk it with courage. Learn what it has come to teach you. Keep doing your part. And trust that even when your plans change, life can still be leading you somewhere which is of real benefit to you.

May you have the wisdom to recognise the lesson in every unexpected turn, the strength to embrace what you cannot change, and the courage to keep moving towards the person you are meant to become. And as always, I wish you well. 

YOU ARE NOT BEHIND. YOU ARE JUST TIRED.

      

Maybe you are not failing at life. Maybe you are simply tired from carrying too much for too long.

We live in a season that confuses exhaustion with failure. The moment we slow down, we panic. We assume something is wrong with our drive, our discipline, our faith. So we reach for another strategy. Another plan. Another version of hustle dressed up as purpose.

But sometimes the problem was never the plan. Sometimes the problem is that you have been running on empty and calling it commitment.

Tiredness has a way of disguising itself as failure. It whispers that you are behind, that everyone else is moving faster, building more, becoming more. It rarely announces itself honestly. It hides behind self doubt and shows up wearing the mask of inadequacy.

But look closer. Most of what feels like falling behind is actually depletion. You have been giving from a place that was never refilled. Showing up for everyone else's demands while your own reserves quietly ran dry. Carrying responsibilities that were never yours alone to carry, and calling the weight normal because you have carried it for so long.

There is no strategy that fixes exhaustion. No new goal cures depletion. You cannot outwork a body and spirit that are asking, simply, to rest.

This is not a call to abandon effort. It is a call to tell the truth about what you have already given. You have shown up on days when no one clapped. You have kept going when the results were invisible. You have carried people, projects, and prayers that others will never know the weight of.

That is not falling behind. That is endurance. And endurance deserves rest, not shame.

Rest is not the opposite of purpose. It is what makes purpose sustainable. Even the ground needs a season lying fallow before it can yield again. You are not exempt from that rhythm simply because you are human and ambitious.

So before you reach for another plan this week, ask a quieter question first. Not what should I do next, but what do I need to recover.

Maybe the breakthrough you are searching for is not ahead of you. Maybe it is behind you, in the rest you kept postponing because you thought stopping meant losing ground.

You have not lost ground. You have simply been carrying more than anyone could see.

Let us learn to set some of it down. Not because we have stopped believing in the vision, but because we finally believe we do not have to be depleted to be faithful.

May we find the courage to rest without guilt, and the grace to know that slowing down is not the end of our becoming.

THE WEIGHT YOU CANNOT SEE

There is a moment most of us have experienced but rarely examined honestly. Someone snaps at us, disappoints us, goes silent when we expected warmth, or behaves in a way that feels inconsiderate or even unkind. And within seconds, often without realising it, we have already formed a verdict. We have decided what kind of person they are.

We are remarkably quick to interpret behaviour. We are remarkably poor at understanding the burdens behind it.

Think of the irritable spouse who bites your head off over something trivial. The impatient colleague who seems impossible to please. The silent friend who has stopped returning messages. The difficult boss whose moods nobody can predict. The struggling child who has become withdrawn and difficult. The elderly parent who seems ungrateful for everything done for them. The customer service officer who speaks to you with an edge that feels personal.

In each of these encounters, our first instinct is to react to what we see. Rarely do we pause long enough to ask what we cannot see.

What we cannot see is the weight.

The irritable spouse may have received news that morning that they have not yet found the words to share. The impatient colleague may be managing a crisis at home while pretending at work that everything is fine. The silent friend may be drowning in something too heavy to speak aloud and too private to explain. The difficult boss may be carrying pressures from above that they are not permitted to pass down. The struggling child may be navigating something in their inner world that they do not yet have the language to name. The elderly parent may be quietly terrified of becoming a burden while desperately needing connection.

None of this excuses poor behaviour. Compassion is not the same as permission. We do not have to absorb cruelty or accept mistreatment simply because the other person is suffering. That is an important distinction and a mature one. We are allowed to hold boundaries and still hold compassion simultaneously.

But what compassion does require of us is the willingness to pause before we conclude. To remember that behaviour is almost always the visible symptom of an invisible struggle. That the person who is hardest to be around is often the person carrying the heaviest load and doing it in the least graceful way because grace requires reserves they may not currently have.

There is a practice worth cultivating. Before you judge, ask silently: what might this person be carrying that I cannot see? You may never know the answer. But the question itself changes something in you. It softens the verdict. It creates a small space where understanding can grow where contempt would otherwise have taken root.

Every day we move through the world brushing against people who are quietly managing things we know nothing about. Some carry grief so fresh it has not yet found a shape. Some carry disappointment that has curdled slowly over years into a hardness they did not choose. Some carry loneliness behind confident smiles and full diaries. Some carry fear behind assertive voices and decisive actions.

We may never know their stories. But we can always make one quiet choice: not to become another burden they have to carry.

The world does not merely need kinder people. It needs people who remember that behind every difficult behaviour is a human being trying to cope with something.

That pause costs nothing. But for the person on the receiving end of it, it can mean everything.