EMBRACE THE WAIT

What God Is Doing When It Feels as Though Nothing Is Happening

I have lived long enough with God to know that some of His greatest work takes place in seasons when I can see the least evidence of it.

There have been times when I felt as though my life was moving forward with unmistakable momentum. Doors were opening. Prayers were being answered. The voice of the Lord seemed clear, and the path before me appeared certain.

But I have also walked through seasons when everything seemed to stop.

The promise remained, but there was no visible progress. I knew what God had spoken, but I could not see how it could possibly come to pass. I prayed, believed, obeyed, and continued moving forward—yet nothing around me seemed to change.

In those seasons, I sometimes felt as though I were merely treading water.

I was not advancing, but neither was I drowning. I was expending energy simply to remain where I was. Every day felt like another attempt to keep my head above the surface while waiting for the current to change.

All of us experience seasons like this.

We may think we are treading water, but in reality, we are waiting upon the Lord.

Scripture declares:

“But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”

—Isaiah 40:31

Waiting upon the Lord is not spiritual inactivity. It is not an empty space between the promise and its fulfilment. It is not a divine loading screen upon which nothing meaningful is happening.

Waiting is a spiritual posture.

It is the place where I stop depending upon my own strength and learn to draw strength from Him. It is where my natural energy is exchanged for supernatural endurance. It is where God prepares me to carry what He has promised without being crushed by its weight or corrupted by its influence.

I once thought the waiting room was simply the place where I remained until God opened the next door. I now understand that the waiting room is often God’s workshop.

The waiting is not interrupting the work.

The waiting is the work.

God is not merely preparing the promise for me. He is preparing me for the promise.

The opportunity, the breakthrough, the ministry, the relationship, the healing, and the open door are all containers. God’s deeper concern is the person who will carry what He pours into those containers.

If my character cannot sustain the blessing, the blessing may eventually destroy me. If my inner life is unable to support the weight of the assignment, what I have prayed for may become the very thing beneath which I collapse.

Therefore, God does something in the waiting that few people talk about.

He builds the person before He releases the promise.

GOD DISMANTLES MY SELF-SUFFICIENCY

One of the first things God confronts in my waiting season is my confidence in my own ability.

This is painful because self-sufficiency does not always appear sinful. It can look like competence, independence, determination, or strong leadership. Those qualities are not inherently wrong, but they become dangerous when I begin leaning upon them instead of leaning upon God.

I can possess natural strength while no longer being strengthened by the Lord.

I can be productive without being dependent.

I can accomplish things for God while quietly attempting to do them without God.

Moses understood this.

Before the wilderness, Moses was a prince of Egypt. He had been educated within one of the most powerful civilizations in the ancient world. He understood authority, influence, culture, and leadership. When he saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, Moses acted in his own strength. He killed the Egyptian, concealed the body, and fled when his actions became known.

Moses had recognized something connected to his calling, but he attempted to fulfil it in his own strength and timing.

Then came Midian.

For forty years, the man raised in a palace tended sheep in the wilderness. The man who had once occupied a position of influence disappeared into obscurity. There was no platform, no army, no visible movement, and no national deliverance.

It may have appeared that Moses’ life had been placed on hold, but God was building a deliverer.

The wilderness dismantled the prince so God could raise up the shepherd.

By the time God spoke from the burning bush, Moses was no longer saying, “I can handle this.” He was asking, “Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh?”

The earlier Moses had confidence without dependence. The later Moses understood that if Israel came out of Egypt, it would not happen through human ability. It would require the presence, power, and authority of God.

God was not wasting forty years.

He was removing forty years of Egypt from Moses.

In my waiting season, I must allow God to ask me a difficult question: What am I leaning upon besides Him?

Am I leaning upon a plan, a person, a position, my experience, my reputation, or a version of the future I have constructed in my imagination?

Sometimes God allows what I have been holding to become unstable so I will learn to hold Him.

The dismantling is not rejection. It is preparation.

God loves me too much to allow my gift to take me somewhere my character and dependence upon Him cannot sustain me.

GOD DEEPENS MY PRAYER LIFE

The waiting season also builds a kind of prayer that comfortable seasons seldom produce.

I am not speaking about polished prayers filled with impressive language. I am speaking about the prayer that rises from someone who has exhausted every other option and discovered that God is still there.

Hannah prayed this way.

Year after year, she carried the pain of barrenness. She was provoked, misunderstood, and wounded in the most vulnerable place of her heart. Her husband loved her, but even he could not fully understand the depth of her grief.

When Hannah entered the house of the Lord, she did not offer a casual prayer. She poured out her soul before God. Her lips moved, but no sound could be heard. Her anguish was so visible that Eli assumed she was intoxicated.

This was not ordinary prayer.

This was a woman bringing the full weight of her pain into the presence of God.

The waiting had brought Hannah beyond religious performance. She was no longer praying to sound spiritual. She was praying because God was her only hope.

God eventually answered her, but before Samuel was formed in Hannah’s womb, something had been formed in Hannah’s spirit.

Her waiting produced surrender.

She did not merely ask for a son. She promised to return that son to the Lord. Her desire had passed through the fire of waiting until it became consecrated.

Hannah’s prayer in 1 Samuel 2 became one of the great prophetic prayers of Scripture. Generations later, Mary’s song after receiving the promise concerning Jesus would echo many of its themes.

Hannah could not see how far the fruit of her waiting would travel.

She believed she was praying for a child. God was preparing a prophet who would help turn a nation and anoint its kings.

The waiting was producing more than Hannah understood.

I have learned that delay exposes the true condition of my prayer life. When an answer comes quickly, I may never discover whether I truly desire God or merely desire what He can provide.

But when the answer is delayed, my motives begin to surface.

Will I continue seeking Him when nothing changes? Will I still worship when I have no testimony to announce? Will I remain faithful when heaven appears silent?

The waiting season invites me beyond prayer as a transaction and into prayer as relationship.

If my prayer life is no deeper after months of waiting, I may only be surviving the season rather than allowing it to transform me.

God is not calling me merely to endure the wait.

He is inviting me to meet Him in it.

GOD REWRITES MY THEOLOGY

Waiting also reveals what I genuinely believe about God.

It is easy to declare that God is faithful when everything is moving according to my expectations. It is another thing to trust His faithfulness when I cannot understand His timing.

The waiting season becomes a theological laboratory. Everything I claim to believe is placed under pressure.

Do I still believe God is good when He does not immediately give me what I requested?

Do I believe His timing is trustworthy when it conflicts with mine?

Do I believe He is present when He is silent?

Do I believe the promise when every visible circumstance appears to contradict it?

These questions cannot be answered through words alone. I must answer them with my life.

Paul was profoundly trained in Scripture. He had studied under Gamaliel and understood the Jewish faith with exceptional depth. Yet when Jesus confronted him on the road to Damascus, Paul discovered that his entire theological framework had to be re-centred around Christ.

He had possessed knowledge, but he had failed to recognize the One to whom that knowledge pointed.

Paul later went into Arabia before emerging into the fullness of his apostolic ministry. God took a man filled with religious knowledge and revealed His Son within him.

Paul’s theology was not merely expanded; it was transformed.

The man who would later write Romans, Galatians, Ephesians, and other New Testament letters had to allow God to rebuild his understanding around the crucified and risen Christ.

Waiting has done something similar in me.

It has exposed beliefs I confessed publicly but had not yet learned to live privately. It has confronted my assumptions about how God should act, when He should answer, and what His faithfulness should look like.

God’s faithfulness does not always look like immediate fulfilment.

Sometimes His faithfulness looks like restraint.

Sometimes it looks like a closed door.

Sometimes it looks like silence.

Sometimes it looks like years in a wilderness when I expected immediate movement.

The waiting season has taught me that God is not required to follow the version of the story I wrote for Him. He is the Author. I am the surrendered vessel.

My responsibility is not to control the story.

My responsibility is to trust the Author.

GOD TEACHES ME TO DESIRE HIM

There is a depth of intimacy with God that cannot be formed while I am constantly demanding that He change my circumstances.

This does not mean I should stop praying for answers. Scripture invites me to bring my requests before Him. But there is a deeper relationship in which I learn to remain with God even when I am not receiving anything visible from His hand.

David learned this in the wilderness.

He had been anointed to become king. He had defeated Goliath. He had served Saul faithfully. Yet the man carrying the promise slept in caves while the man attempting to kill him occupied the palace.

David possessed an anointing without possessing the throne.

He had the word, but he did not yet have its fulfilment.

What did David do in that tension?

He worshipped.

He wrote words such as:

“How long wilt thou forget me, O LORD? for ever? how long wilt thou hide thy face from me?”

—Psalm 13:1

He did not conceal his pain, but neither did he abandon God.

In the wilderness of Judah, David declared:

“O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee.”

—Psalm 63:1

The wilderness stripped away everything David might have used as a substitute for God. He had no palace, security, recognition, or certainty. Yet in that barren place, he discovered that God Himself was sufficient.

Not merely God’s gifts.

Not merely God’s answers.

God.

I must ask myself: If the promise were delayed longer than I expected, would I still desire the Promiser? If the door remained closed, would His presence still be enough? If I never received public recognition for my obedience, would I still obey?

Waiting purifies desire.

It separates my hunger for God from my hunger for what I hope God will give me.

The silence teaches me to remain.

The delay teaches me to worship without visible evidence.

The wilderness teaches me that when everything else is removed, His presence is still enough.

GOD POSITIONS WHAT I CANNOT SEE

Waiting is not only about what God is doing within me. It is also about what He is arranging around me.

Joseph experienced this.

While in prison, Joseph interpreted the dreams of Pharaoh’s cupbearer and baker. He asked the cupbearer to remember him when he was restored to his position.

The cupbearer left the prison.

Joseph remained.

Two full years passed.

To Joseph, that silence may have felt like abandonment. He had served faithfully, used his gift, and helped someone else step into restoration. Yet the person he helped forgot him.

But Joseph was not forgotten by God.

If the cupbearer had spoken about Joseph immediately, Joseph might have been released as a slave with an unusual ability. Perhaps he would have received a small position somewhere in Egypt.

But two years later, Pharaoh had a dream that no one could interpret. Egypt faced a crisis, and every trusted source of wisdom had failed.

At that precise moment, the cupbearer remembered Joseph.

Joseph did not emerge from prison merely as a man who could interpret dreams. He emerged with divine wisdom and a plan capable of preserving nations through famine.

He went from prisoner to prime minister in a single day.

The delay had created the context for his elevation.

What felt like forgetfulness was actually divine calibration.

God was positioning Pharaoh’s dream, the cupbearer’s memory, Joseph’s gift, and an approaching famine within the same prophetic moment.

Joseph could not arrange that from prison.

He could only remain faithful where he was.

There are things God is coordinating that I cannot see from my present position. There are conversations I do not know are taking place, hearts I cannot influence, circumstances still being aligned, and people who have not yet recognized what God has placed inside me.

My inability to see movement does not mean there is no movement.

Heaven is not inactive simply because earth appears silent.

God may be protecting me from arriving too early. He may be preventing me from entering a position before I possess the strength and wisdom to remain there. He may be allowing the need to mature so that when the door opens, I will enter at the level necessary to fulfil the assignment.

I must not interpret delay as denial.

God knows when the promise and the prepared person are ready to meet.

WAITING IS NOT PASSIVITY

Embracing the wait does not mean doing nothing.

Waiting upon God is not permission to become passive, careless, or irresponsible. It is not an excuse to remain in a place God has already commanded me to leave.

Everyone in Scripture who waited well remained faithful while waiting.

Moses tended sheep that did not belong to him.

David led distressed men and protected vulnerable communities.

Joseph served with integrity in a prison he did not deserve.

Hannah continued appearing before the Lord despite her grief.

Paul pursued God and obeyed the revelation he had received.

None of them knew when the season would change, but they remained faithful within the season they had been given.

This is the posture God honours: not passivity and not striving, but faithfulness.

Striving attempts to force tomorrow into existence.

Passivity neglects today because tomorrow has not arrived.

Faithfulness obeys God today and entrusts tomorrow to Him.

When I feel as though I am treading water, my natural reaction is to panic. I look around and conclude that I am not moving forward. But treading water is not failure. Sometimes it is the discipline that keeps me in position until the current changes.

Perhaps I am not sinking because God is strengthening muscles I did not know I possessed.

Perhaps I am not going backwards.

Perhaps I am learning endurance.

Perhaps the season I have called stagnation is actually preparation.

Waiting upon the Lord does not mean I stop moving altogether. It means I stop attempting to manufacture through human striving what can only be produced by divine timing.

I continue praying.

I continue serving.

I continue obeying.

I continue developing what God has placed within me.

I remain faithful without demanding immediate recognition.

NOTHING IN THE WAIT IS WASTED

Some of David’s most enduring psalms emerged from the wilderness years.

He did not know that words written in caves would one day carry millions of people through grief, loneliness, persecution, illness, and death. He did not know that generations later, someone sitting alone in a hospital room would read, “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want,” and suddenly remember that they were not abandoned.

David was simply writing what was true while sitting in a place he never wanted to be.

The cave became a sanctuary.

The wilderness became a classroom.

The delay became a doorway through which future generations would encounter God.

Moses could not see that tending sheep in Midian was teaching him how to guide a nation through the wilderness.

Hannah could not see that the prayer being formed through her tears would influence the worship of generations and find an echo in the song of Mary.

Joseph could not see that the prison was positioning him for the palace.

Paul could not fully see that the revelation being deepened within him would help establish the church’s understanding of the gospel for centuries.

They simply remained faithful in the season they had been given.

I may not yet understand what God is producing through my waiting. I may not see the people who will one day be strengthened by what I am learning today. I may not recognize how the pain, silence, obscurity, and unanswered questions are becoming part of a testimony that will carry someone else.

But I know this:

Nothing surrendered to God is wasted.

Not one tear.

Not one prayer.

Not one quiet act of obedience.

Not one day in which I chose faithfulness when nobody was watching.

The waiting season is not empty. It is pregnant with purpose.

God is building endurance into my spirit, truth into my foundation, humility into my character, depth into my prayer life, and intimacy into my relationship with Him.

Therefore, I will not despise the wait.

I will not curse the cave because I have not yet reached the throne.

I will not reject the wilderness because I cannot yet see the promised land.

I will not call myself forgotten simply because the cupbearer has not yet remembered my name.

I will not measure God’s activity by what my natural eyes can see.

I will embrace the wait.

I will be faithful where I am.

I will worship before the answer comes.

I will serve without an audience.

I will trust when heaven is silent.

I will surrender my schedule, my expectations, and my demand to understand everything God is doing.

If I must tread water for a season, I will remember that I am not alone in the water. The One who called Peter out of the boat is still Lord over the waves. The waters cannot swallow what God has determined to preserve.

I am not merely trying to survive until my real life begins.

This is my life.

This season matters.

This chapter belongs in the story.

God is not simply waiting for my circumstances to change. He is transforming me so that when the circumstances change, I will be ready.

The promise will come in its appointed time. The door will open when God determines that it should open. What He has spoken will not fail.

Until then, I will remain faithful.

I will stay surrendered.

I will wait upon the Lord.

And when this season is over, I will look back and realize that during the days when I thought nothing was happening, God was doing some of the deepest, most necessary, and most enduring work of my entire life.

Peter Nash