Waiting has never been my strong suit. I want answers now, direction now, clarity now. That restless feeling of standing still when everything in me wants to rush ahead—it's a tension I know well.
The clock ticks differently in God's kingdom. What feels like delay to us is God weaving together countless unseen threads. Romans 12:2 reminds us, "Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will."
The pattern of this world says faster is better. It measures worth by productivity and success by speed. But God's pattern? It values growth over acceleration, character over convenience.
I've noticed my greatest seasons of change weren't found in the rushing forward but in the waiting. Those spaces between what was and what will be—that's where my mind was renewed. That's where I began to see glimpses of His good, pleasing, and perfect will.
Trusting God's timing isn't passive. It's an active choice we make daily, sometimes hourly. It's choosing to believe that closed doors aren't rejection but protection. That silence isn't absence but preparation.
When I look back at the times I pushed against waiting, I see how my perspective was limited. I could only see what was directly in front of me. But God sees the full picture—every connection, every heart involved, every lesson that needs to take root.
There's wisdom in recognizing that uncertain situations aren't evidence of God's forgetfulness but opportunities for our faithfulness. Each day we choose trust over anxiety, we're actually practicing Romans 12:2—we're allowing our minds to be renewed, shifting away from worldly patterns of impatience toward godly patterns of peace.
So how do we trust God's timing when everything feels uncertain? We hold onto what we know about His character when His plans aren't clear. We remember past faithfulness as evidence for future hope. We surround ourselves with people who strengthen our faith rather than feeding our fear.
And we look for the gifts hidden in the waiting—the conversations we wouldn't otherwise have had, the compassion being cultivated, the preparation happening below the surface.
The times that tested my trust most weren't the obvious crises but the extended periods of uncertainty—when direction was unclear and progress seemed stalled. Yet looking back, those seasons weren't delays at all. They were essential chapters where God was doing His most important work.
Timing that once seemed cruel now appears kind. What looked like withholding now feels like wisdom. The slow unfolding that tested my patience actually protected my heart.
Trust isn't something we muster up on our own strength. It grows as we witness God's faithfulness in small things before facing bigger things. It develops as we practice seeing delays not as indifference but as involvement too complex for us to fully understand.
If you're waiting today—for clarity, for healing, for direction—remember that God's timeline prioritizes your growth over your comfort. His answers aren't just about reaching destinations but about who you become along the way.
The question isn't whether God will come through—it's whether we'll have eyes to see how He's already working while we wait.