What I Do Inside The Wait

I'm not good at waiting. Are you?

Whether it's waiting for a doctor's report, a relationship to be repaired, clarity on what God is saying, or an answer to “why,” none of it comes easy.

But sometimes we just don't have a choice. There's a space between the MRI and the follow-up with the surgeon. Healing needs time to do its work in the relationship. My rush needs to wait for God's direction. And “why” needs to change to trust.

I turn to God's Word and find this instruction for waiting. “Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord” (Psalm 27:14 NLT).

Today, as I write this, I am waiting with a loved one for the MRI, the meeting five days later with the surgeon, and then the apprehensive oncology appointment. The days between are full of anxiousness, worry, and speculation.

Even more reason to lean into “wait patiently for the Lord.”

The Hebrew meaning for wait in this verse is qavah, which implies binding together, intertwining, and gathering strength while trusting in God's faithfulness. It means to look eagerly for God's action. In other words, you are looking forward with anticipation to what God will do.

“This is a beautiful concept of waiting upon God, not as something passive, but entwining our hearts with him and his purposes” (Dr. Brian Simmons, Isaiah 40 TPT notes).

This feels like a moment-by-moment battle. I catch my rogue thoughts before they spiral into worst-case scenarios, then look heavenward, pointing my heart back into a posture of trust.

Some days the fight against worry goes better than others. But when I identify the worry and call it out instead of sinking into it, the waiting starts to feel less like a countdown and more like a posture of trust.

When the rogue, speculative thoughts start rehearsing worst-case scenarios, I put my hands on my head as a visual for interrupting the spiral and personalize Psalm 27:14. “I am waiting on God, entwining my heart with him, like a rope. I have patience and trust in God's timing. I am resolute and step into the inner strength God has built in me over the years of his faithfulness. Yes, I choose to persevere with faith no matter how hard this health crisis is.”

I recall the story of Hannah in 1 Samuel 1. “Year after year it was the same” (1 Samuel 1:7 NLT)—Hannah was unable to bear children, and Peninnah, the second wife and mother to many, harassed her until she burst into tears and could not eat.

Hannah didn't have the hope of an MRI to show her what might be happening in her body. Women of her time carried deep shame and misunderstanding about barrenness. Plus, she had borne the torment of continuous, negative voices meant to belittle her and make her question God's personal love and care.

But Hannah chose to wait on God, bravely trusting him with what she couldn't control. “When the sacrifice had been offered, and they had eaten the meal, Hannah got up and went to pray” (1 Samuel 1:9 CEV).

Hannah made a deliberate decision, and this was the action that changed everything for her. She moved from the table, the place of taunting and misunderstanding, and went to the place of prayer and consecration.

I like to imagine Hannah's resolve looking something like mine, hands lifted, heart declaring, “Enough. I am moving into God's presence and waiting for his action.”

In time, her prayer was answered with a son, Samuel. But something in Hannah had already shifted before the answer ever came.

Like Hannah, I don't get to skip the wait. But her story reminds me I still get to decide who I become inside of it.

Lots of good happens in the wait when I intertwine my heart with God:

• My faith is refocused
• My heart is recalibrated
• The circumstances around me change
• My understanding of my situation increases
• My heart becomes a reservoir of God's desire

So, if you're in a waiting room today, whether it's an MRI, a relationship, or an answer you've been asking God for, you don't have to pretend you're at peace.

You just have to keep turning your heart back toward Him, again and again, however many times it takes.

Waiting is inevitable, and most of the time I don't get to choose whether it happens. But I do get to choose what I do inside it—and today, I'm choosing to keep turning toward Him.

When the prognosis is determined, and the next steps are planned, I will keep stepping into courage, entwining my heart with God's timing and purposes.

Choose courage. Choose to wait patiently for God.