Stillness That Strengthens: When God Asks Us to Wait

Some days, I just want to run.

I want to escape the waiting, the wrestling, the in-between moments where God seems quiet and I’m left staring at my own restless heart. Running feels easier. Running feels like control. Running feels like I’m making something happen instead of sitting powerless.

But then there are these words that come back to me like a steady heartbeat: Repentance. Rest. Quiet. Trust.

They sound so simple. Almost cliché. But when I’m caught in the middle of life’s storms, those words feel like breath—sometimes even a lifeline.

And yet, they are so contrary to human nature.

I mean, who naturally repents? Who naturally rests when life demands that we perform, prove, push, and hustle? Who naturally stays quiet when the world screams for our attention, our anxiety, our panic? Who naturally trusts when every part of us is screaming, “Fix this now! Fix this now!”

Not me.

But here’s the honest truth: I need to repent, rest, be quiet, and trust. Because without these, I spiral into chaos, doubt, and fear. The kind of fear that feels like a noose tightening around my soul.

Repentance is hard. It requires me to look honestly at my sin—my impatience, my distrust, my desire to control. It means admitting I don’t have all the answers. It means laying down my pride and my so-called strength and saying, “God, I’ve been wrong. I need You.”

Psalm 51:10 says, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.” I cling to that promise every time I repent—because I know my heart is a mess without His cleansing.

And rest? Rest feels like a luxury I can’t afford. The world tells me rest means weakness. But God says something else.

In Matthew 11:28-29, Jesus invites us: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” That rest isn’t just physical. It’s spiritual. Emotional. A surrender to His peace that surpasses understanding.

Quiet is nearly impossible in my loud, distracted world. But God calls me to stillness. Psalm 46:10 commands, “Be still, and know that I am God.” To be still is not passive. It’s powerful. It’s faith in action. It’s saying, “I will wait. I will listen. I will trust Your voice over the chaos.”

And trust… oh, how I struggle with trust. Trust means giving God the right to write my story, even when the ending looks uncertain or scary. Proverbs 3:5-6 urges me, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make straight your paths.” But trusting when I don’t see, when I don’t understand, is the hardest thing.

Waiting on God requires me to submit myself to His will—whatever it holds. Even when it means discomfort, delay, or disappointment.

But here’s the thing: there is a reward for waiting. Not always the reward I expect, but a reward nonetheless. In waiting, I encounter His grace—unmerited favor that covers my doubts and failures. I experience His compassion—tender mercies that heal my hurting heart. And I witness His justice—perfect and righteous, unfolding at the perfect time.

Isaiah 40:31 says, “But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” That promise is not just poetic. It’s a lifeline for my weary soul.

So, am I willing to repent so I can rest in who God is right now? Am I willing to be quiet when everything in me wants to scream? Am I willing to trust even when I don’t see the full picture?

Lord, help me. Help me to surrender my impatience, my fear, and my control. Help me to wait—not just in passing time but in faith. Help me to find peace in Your timing, not mine.

I’m learning that waiting on God isn’t about inactivity or defeat. It’s a deliberate, active posture of faith. It’s choosing to stay put in His presence even when my soul demands to run away.

I have to believe the reward is worth it. Because if waiting on God leads to deeper grace, stronger faith, and a heart more like His, then I want to wait.

Sometimes I get scared, though. Scared that my waiting is wasted. Scared that nothing will change. Scared that I’m missing out on something better.

But the Bible reminds me that God’s timing is perfect.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.” I want to lean into that truth, even when seasons feel long or dark.

I want to rest in the fact that my God is sovereign. That He holds all things in His hands. That He is not caught off guard by my fears or my struggles. That He is working all things for my good and His glory.

Romans 8:28 is my anchor: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.” Waiting is part of the “all things.”

So tonight, I choose to stop running.

I choose repentance over pride.

I choose rest over striving.

I choose quiet over chaos.

I choose trust over fear.

Sovereign Lord, I come to You in my weakness, in my impatience, in my restless heart. I ask for Your grace to cover me. Your compassion to comfort me. Your justice to prevail in the situations that feel overwhelming.

Help me to wait on You without wavering. Help me to find peace not in the absence of difficulty, but in the presence of You.

Give me strength to stand firm. Wisdom to know when to act and when to be still. Courage to surrender my plans to Your perfect will.

I do not want to run away anymore. I want to run to You.

Teach me to wait well.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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Waiting on God is hard, Diary. But I am learning it’s necessary. It’s sacred. It’s transformative.

So here I am, still waiting, still believing, still trusting.

With all my heart!