Waiting is rarely welcome.
We avoid it, resist it, rush through it. Whether we’re waiting in traffic, in a hospital room, in an unanswered prayer, or in the long ache of an unfulfilled dream — the in-between is uncomfortable. Time slows down. Clarity dims. Hope flickers.
But Scripture doesn’t treat waiting as wasted time. It presents waiting as sacred ground — a spiritual classroom where God does some of His deepest work.
The Problem with Waiting
We often equate waiting with passivity, helplessness, or delay. In a culture of speed and instant gratification, waiting feels like failure. We ask:
Why hasn’t it happened yet?
Did I miss God?
Is something wrong with me?
Has God forgotten?
But biblical waiting is not inactivity — it’s attentiveness. It’s not about doing nothing. It’s about doing the deep work of trusting when we cannot see.
“But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.
They will soar high on wings like eagles.
They will run and not grow weary.
They will walk and not faint.”
— Isaiah 40:31, NLT
In the Hebrew, the word “trust” (or “wait”) carries the image of entwining — like vines wrapping around each other. Waiting is not passive delay. It’s active dependence. It’s becoming intertwined with God over time.
God Waits Too
Waiting is not just something God asks of us — it’s something God does Himself.
Throughout Scripture, God waits:
He waits to bring judgment, giving time for repentance.
He waits to fulfill promises until hearts are ready.
He waits for the “fullness of time” to send Jesus into the world.
He waits with compassion, longing for the prodigal to return.
God is patient, not hurried. And when we wait with Him — instead of just waiting for Him — we begin to see that time is not our enemy. It’s our teacher.
A Story of Delayed Arrival
In John 11, we encounter the deeply human moment when Jesus delays.
Lazarus is sick. His sisters, Mary and Martha, send word. They know Jesus can heal. But Jesus stays where He is for two more days. And Lazarus dies.
When Jesus finally arrives, both sisters say the same thing:
“Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
— John 11:21, 32, NLT
They are grieving — not just the loss of their brother, but the timing of God. Jesus didn’t show up when they wanted Him to.
But then He says to Martha:
“I am the resurrection and the life. Anyone who believes in me will live, even after dying.”
— John 11:25, NLT
Jesus wasn’t late. He was preparing something deeper than healing — resurrection. The wait wasn’t wasted. It became the space where faith was stretched, grief was voiced, and glory was revealed.
When We Wait Now
You may be waiting right now.
Waiting for healing.
Waiting for clarity.
Waiting for a relationship to be restored.
Waiting for a calling to unfold.
Waiting for a grief to soften.
It’s okay to grieve what hasn’t happened yet. The wait is a kind of wilderness — but remember, wilderness in Scripture is often womb, not wasteland. Waiting becomes sacred when we learn to see it as preparation, not punishment.
The Gift of Slow Time
This week, practice waiting — intentionally.
Choose one small thing to do without rushing:
Take a slow walk without headphones.
Stand in a line without checking your phone.
Sit in silence for 10 minutes, breathing and noticing God’s presence.
Then reflect:
What is God forming in me during this waiting season?
What have I learned about myself in the silence?
What might it mean to wait with God, not just on God?
You can also write a letter to God from your waiting space — then write one from Him to you. Let His promises root deeper than your timelines.
Waiting isn’t wasted when we wait with God. Time becomes a teacher — shaping our trust, stretching our faith, and anchoring our hope in something eternal.
Closing Reflection
God does not measure time the way we do.
He is never rushed, never behind, never forgetful.
If you are in the middle — between the promise and the fulfillment, the prayer and the answer, the seed and the bloom —
Know this:
You are in the sacred classroom of time.
And in time, you will see.
Not just what you were waiting for —
But who you became in the waiting.
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