When the waiting is really really long.
“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.” (Hebrews 10:23)
In times of waiting, as a Christian, we are told to wait with hope. For He who promised is faithful.
But what do you do when the waiting has been long?
I mean really long.
When I am struggling to keep the faith—when the waiting has stretched on far longer than I ever imagined it would—I replay in my head the times that God has been faithful. The times He has met me in the middle of my tears, my give up, my give in, and poured His goodness over me so profoundly that I could not deny that He was there.
I remember.
I remember the time He filled my womb with a baby.
I remember the night I wept in prayer over my friend, and God healed her.
I remember the time He showed me who my husband was—even before I knew his name.
I remember the time He made a way for us to move across the country when, by all appearances, it seemed impossible.
I remember the time He healed me and gave me back the ability to walk, to talk, and to play with my kiddos.
I remember.
And remembering changes something in me.
It doesn't necessarily make the waiting easier. It doesn't answer every question. And it certainly doesn't mean I understand why God sometimes says, “wait.”
But it reminds me that God has never been unfaithful.
The waiting can make us forget.
We stare so long at the thing we are waiting for that we begin to measure God’s goodness by whether or not He has given it to us yet. We wonder if He heard us. We wonder if He remembers. We wonder if maybe we misunderstood what He promised.
But Scripture tells us:
“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.” —Hebrews 10:23
Notice what it doesn’t say.
It doesn’t say, “Hold fast because the answer will come when you want it.”
It says, “He who promised is faithful.”
Our hope isn't ultimately in the thing we are waiting for.
Our hope is in the One we are waiting on.
For more than eleven years, we waited for children. Eleven years is a long time to pray the same prayer. It is a long time to watch other people receive the very thing your heart aches for. It is a long time to celebrate someone else's miracle while quietly wondering when—or if—your own will come.
And in those years, I learned something about waiting.
Sometimes faith doesn't look like confidently declaring, “I know exactly what God is going to do!”
Sometimes faith looks like whispering, “Lord, I don't know what You are doing, but I know who You are.”
Sometimes faith looks like remembering.
Remembering the womb He opened.
Remembering the friend He healed.
Remembering the husband He brought.
Remembering the impossible door He opened.
Remembering the body He restored.
Remembering every time His presence met me in a place where I thought I couldn't take another step.
Israel did this, too. Again and again, God called His people to remember what He had done. When they faced something frightening or uncertain, they could look backward and say, But look what God has already done.
Maybe that is what you need to do today.
Look back.
Pull out the old stories. Remember the prayers He answered. Remember the doors He opened. Remember the moments when His presence was so unmistakable that you knew you could never explain them away.
Write them down.
Tell them to your children.
Tell them to your friends.
Tell them to yourself when your faith feels thin.
Because the God who was faithful then is still faithful now.
And if the waiting is long, keep waiting.
Not because waiting is easy.
Not because you know how the story will end.
But because He who promised is faithful.
Your circumstances may change. Your prayers may take unexpected turns. The answer may look different than you imagined.
But God does not change.
So today, when I am tempted to give up, I will remember.
When I am tempted to believe He has forgotten me, I will remember.
When the silence feels deafening, I will remember.
When the waiting feels really, really long, I will remember.
He has been faithful to me before.
He is faithful to me now.
And He will be faithful forever.
Lord, help me remember.
When I cannot see what You are doing, remind me of what You have already done. When the waiting wears me down, anchor me to Your faithfulness. Keep me from measuring Your goodness by the timing of my circumstances. Help me trust You—not simply because I believe You will give me what I am asking for, but because I know You are good, You are near, and You are faithful.
And when I forget, Lord, bring Your faithfulness back to my mind.
You have never failed me yet. And You never will.
Amen.
JOURNALING PROMPTS
Where in your life does the waiting feel especially long right now, and how has that waiting affected the way you see God?
What are three specific times God has been faithful to you in the past?
Have you started measuring God’s goodness by whether or not He gives you what you are asking for? What would it look like to trust His character instead?
What truth about God do you need to remember when your faith feels thin?
How can you create a practice of remembering God’s faithfulness so you can return to it when the waiting feels heavy?
