The Struggle to Wait

Read

Psalm 27:14 “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”

Think

We live in a culture that despises waiting. Everything is built to go faster—fast food, fast shipping, fast answers. We pay more for speed. We celebrate hustle. We feel frustrated when something takes longer than we expect. But when it comes to the life of faith, speed is rarely the point. In fact, God does some of his most important work in seasons of waiting.

Psalm 27:14 is a simple but profound invitation: “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” That repetition isn’t accidental. David says it twice because he knows we forget. He knows our hearts grow restless, especially when our prayers go unanswered and the timeline keeps stretching. But instead of telling us to push harder or fix it ourselves, Scripture says: wait. That’s not the kind of waiting that taps its foot impatiently or scrolls endlessly to kill time. It’s the kind of waiting that stays alert, anchored, and hopeful. It’s active trust. It says, “God, I don’t know when you’ll move or how you’ll show up, but I believe you will.”

Patience isn’t just about putting up with delay. It’s about what happens in us while we wait. It’s a form of surrender. It stretches our faith. It breaks our addiction to control. It reveals our idols and tests our motives. It brings buried fears and expectations to the surface. And in all of that discomfort, God is present—not punishing, but forming us.

The fruit of the Spirit is not grown in microwaved moments. It takes time. And patience, perhaps more than any other fruit, makes us confront the uncomfortable truth that we are not in charge of the outcome. That’s why we resist it. Because waiting exposes our limits. It reminds us that faith is not just about trusting God’s power—it’s about trusting his pace. Maybe you’re in a season where things feel stuck. The breakthrough hasn’t come. The answer is unclear. The next step isn’t obvious. And everything in you wants to move. To solve. To force. But what if this is where God is growing something deeper in you? Something that can’t be rushed?

Patience isn’t natural for any of us. That’s why it’s a fruit of the Spirit. You can’t manufacture it by clenching your fists and trying harder. It has to be grown in you—through grace, through time, through intimacy with God. The more you walk with him, the more patient you become. Not because the waiting gets easier, but because you learn to trust the One who’s worth waiting on.

David wasn’t writing from a place of ease when he penned Psalm 27. He was surrounded by fear, enemies, and uncertainty. Yet he ends the psalm with this invitation to wait. That’s not resignation—it’s hope. It’s the belief that God sees what you can’t. That his timing is not a delay, but a mercy. That his silence isn’t absence, it’s an invitation to deeper trust.

This kind of waiting doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means doing the next faithful thing while trusting God with the big picture. It means praying when you don’t see progress. Loving people when you feel overlooked. Worshiping when the breakthrough hasn’t come. It means staying rooted when everything in you wants to run. And in that place, the Spirit begins to shape you. To calm your racing thoughts. To deepen your trust. To steady your emotions. Not overnight, but over time. If you're in the middle of the wait today, you're not forgotten. You’re not falling behind. You're being formed.

Apply

Take five minutes to write down one area of your life where you’re waiting on God. Then, under it, write this: “God is working while I wait.” Keep that phrase in front of you today. When the anxiety rises or the timeline stretches, let it call you back to trust.

Pray

God, I don’t like waiting. I want answers, movement, and resolution. But I trust that you are still working, even when I can’t see it. Teach me to wait well—not with frustration, but with faith. Help me believe that your timing is better than mine. Form patience in me as I stay close to you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.