I Will Rise: The Hidden Strength of Those Who Wait

There are places in God that cannot be rushed into.

I have learned this not in moments of victory, but in seasons where everything in me wanted to move… and heaven told me to stand still. There have been times when I felt the pressure to act, to fix, to respond, to push forward into something—anything—just to break the silence. And yet, in those very moments, I sensed the Spirit of the Lord whispering, “Wait.”

Not because He had abandoned me.

But because He was forming me.

There is a tension that comes when you know you are called to rise, but you feel held in a place that looks like delay. It can feel like contradiction. It can feel like you’re being overlooked. It can feel like doors are closed that should be open by now. But I have come to understand something that changed the way I see every season of my life:

Waiting is not where purpose dies.

Waiting is where purpose is forged.

The world does not understand this. The flesh resists it. Everything around us is wired for immediacy, for movement, for visible results. But the kingdom of God does not operate on the timeline of urgency—it operates on the timing of alignment. And alignment is not rushed. Alignment is revealed in stillness.

When I read Isaiah 40:31, I no longer hear poetry—I hear instruction.

“But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength…”

This is not a suggestion.

This is a divine strategy.

I have discovered that waiting on the Lord is one of the most violent acts of faith a believer can walk in. Because everything in your natural man wants to override it. Your thoughts begin to race. Your emotions begin to speak. Your circumstances begin to shout. And all of them say the same thing:

“Do something now.”

But those who wait are those who have learned to silence every other voice and anchor themselves in His.

Waiting is not inactivity.

Waiting is restraint under pressure.

Waiting is choosing not to move when movement would be easier than obedience.

Waiting is where trust is proven.

And I have found that God will often allow the pressure to increase—not to break me—but to reveal whether I will move ahead of Him or remain in Him.

Because the truth is, I can move without God.

But I cannot rise without Him.

There is a difference.

I have moved in my own strength before. I have stepped into things prematurely. I have forced doors that were not yet meant to open. And every time, it led to exhaustion, frustration, and limitation. Not because the calling was wrong—but because the timing was.

God is not just concerned with where I go.

He is concerned with who I become when I arrive.

And that is why waiting matters.

Because in the waiting, He renews.

“He shall renew their strength…”

This is not surface-level encouragement.

This is deep, internal reconstruction.

I have felt the places where I was drained—emotionally, spiritually, even physically. I have felt the weight of responsibility, the fatigue of battle, the weariness of carrying things that stretched me beyond what I thought I could endure. And in those moments, I didn’t need motivation.

I needed renewal.

And renewal does not happen in striving.

It happens in surrender.

God does not patch me up so I can keep going the same way I was.

He rebuilds me so I can carry what is coming.

There are things ahead that require a different strength.

A deeper endurance.

A sharper discernment.

A greater authority.

And if He gave them to me before renewing me, they would crush me under their weight. So instead, He brings me into a place where He begins to work in me—quietly, deeply, thoroughly.

Not for appearance.

But for capacity.

There are areas of my life where God has strengthened me in ways no one else could see. He has built stability where there was once instability. He has formed patience where there was once urgency. He has established peace where there was once anxiety.

And it all happened in the waiting.

That place I once resisted has become the place I now recognize as sacred.

Because it is there that I am changed.

And then comes the promise:

“They shall mount up with wings as eagles…”

This is where everything shifts.

Because the same one who waited is now the one who rises.

But not in the way the world rises.

Not through force.

Not through striving.

Not through endless effort.

But through alignment.

I have come to understand something about how God causes His people to rise. He does not teach us to fight every storm.

He teaches us to discern the wind.

There have been storms in my life that I tried to resist. I pushed against them. I prayed for them to stop. I questioned why they were happening. But over time, I began to see something differently.

The storm was not always my enemy.

Sometimes, it was my elevation.

Just like the eagle does not panic when the wind begins to rage, I have learned that when the pressure increases, something is being positioned. The eagle stretches its wings and allows the wind to carry it higher than it could ever go on its own.

And I have realized:

I am not called to outwork the storm.

I am called to rise in it.

There is a posture in the Spirit where I stop fighting everything around me and start aligning with what God is doing within me. And when that alignment happens, something shifts. What once felt like resistance becomes lift.

What once felt like opposition becomes momentum.

What once felt like limitation becomes elevation.

This is what it means to mount up.

It is not just about rising above circumstances.

It is about operating from a different place altogether.

A place where I am not driven by fear.

A place where I am not reacting to pressure.

A place where I am not controlled by what I see.

But a place where I am led by the Spirit.

There is a height in God where not everything can follow.

There is a place where the noise quiets, where the striving ceases, where the distractions fall away. And it is not because the world changed—it is because I did.

I have been brought higher.

And in that place, I begin to see differently.

I begin to discern differently.

I begin to move differently.

Because I am no longer living from the ground level of reaction—I am living from the elevated place of revelation.

And this is where many are being called right now.

There is a call to rise.

But rising requires release.

There are things that cannot go with you into the place God is calling you to. Old patterns. Old mindsets. Old dependencies. Even old ways of thinking about yourself.

There have been moments where I felt like things were being stripped away. Relationships shifted. Opportunities changed. Familiar places no longer felt the same. And if I’m honest, there were times it felt like loss.

But looking back, I can now see:

It was not loss.

It was preparation.

God was removing what could not sustain where I was going.

Because you cannot soar while holding onto weights that were never meant to go with you.

There is a refining that takes place in hidden seasons. A work that is not always visible, not always understood, but always intentional. And in those moments, I have had to trust that what God was doing beneath the surface was greater than what I could see in front of me.

And He has been faithful.

Faithful to renew.

Faithful to strengthen.

Faithful to lift.

So now, when I feel the tension of waiting, I no longer interpret it as delay.

I recognize it as positioning.

When I feel the pressure of the storm, I no longer assume something is wrong.

I ask how I am meant to rise.

And when things begin to shift and fall away, I no longer cling to them in fear.

I release them in trust.

Because I know where He is taking me.

There is a generation that must learn this.

A people who will not be driven by urgency, but led by the Spirit.

A people who will not strive in their own strength, but wait until they are carried by His.

A people who will not run ahead of God, but will rise with Him.

And I choose to be among them.

I will wait.

Not passively.

But intentionally.

I will remain.

Not because I am stuck.

But because I am being strengthened.

I will trust.

Not because I understand everything.

But because I know the One who does.

And when the moment comes—when the wind begins to move, when the Spirit begins to lift—I will not hesitate.

I will rise.

Not by might.

Not by power.

But by His Spirit.

I will mount up.

I will step into the place I was created to dwell.

Not crawling.

Not surviving.

But soaring.

Peter Nash

https://www.freshoil-fire.com/

Declarations

• I will not rush the process of God in my life.

• I declare that my waiting is not wasted—it is building strength within me.

• I will not move ahead of God; I will move with Him.

• My strength is being renewed in places unseen.

• I rise above fear, pressure, and limitation by the Spirit of God.

• Every storm in my life is being turned into elevation.

• I release every weight that cannot go where God is taking me.

• I am aligned with heaven’s timing, not earthly urgency.

• I will mount up with wings as an eagle and soar in divine purpose.

• I am not delayed—I am being prepared.

• I walk in strength, clarity, and spiritual authority.

• I rise into the place the Holy Spirit has prepared for me.