What Happens in the Waiting

Sitting in the green room. Adjusting the hands-free mic. Walking onto the platform I had prayed for years to stand on. I felt ready and I could feel the audience’s anticipation. This was it.

But as I stepped onto the stage, I heard His gentle whisper: “This will be it. Lay it down.”

I knew what it meant, and I didn’t like it. I was in demand, speaking at conferences and women’s retreats. It made me feel fulfilled and purposeful. All of sudden, God, you’re asking me to stop? To give this up? At the cost of no longer being invited in? For days I wrestled within myself, but finally I gave in to the pull of obedience.

As I finished my last speaking commitments, the invitations trickled to a halt. Suddenly, my professional world grew still. I’ve always believed seasons of waiting are where God builds our faith. But this felt more painful, like He was pruning the comfortable rhythms of ministry and recognition. It was as if He was removing everything familiar to show me what was eternal. God was teaching me that I needed to lay down what I thought was giving me life so He could give me Himself instead.

This was my personal advent season when I learned the truth I didn’t want to face: sometimes God fulfills His promises not through immediate action, but by asking us to wait in the silence between the promise given and the promise fulfilled.

The in-between was where God began to show me what holy waiting really looks like.

Maybe you know what that in-between feels like too. You’re doing everything right—you pray, you show up, you keep believing—but heaven still seems quiet. Each day without an answer turns into weeks, and the silence feels even heavier.

Waiting challenges the most human parts of us. We want answers, direction—anything but stillness. We hope for the job offer, the diagnosis to change, or for a loved one to come home. In our humanity we long for God to do something, anything, to remind us He’s still with us.

I wasn’t angry, just confused. I did what I believed God asked, and suddenly the opportunities and invitations all stopped. The silence was deafening. I started to think He was punishing me, but He wasn’t. He was actually preparing me for something sacred and holy.

Eugene Peterson titled one of his books A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, describing the Christian life as a slow, faithful pilgrimage rather than a sprint. He reminds us that following Jesus isn’t about instant results but about steady trust throughout our life. Silence can feel like that—like walking a long road of ascent without seeing the destination, wondering if we are going in the right direction. Sometimes it’s easy to wait with confidence when you remember all God has done because He’s never failed to lead you where His promise was already waiting. But when every door seems closed and heaven feels silent, you might start to wonder if you’ve stepped out of His promise.

But history reminds us that God often works His greatest plans in what feels like His quietest moments. During the in-between of the Old and New Testaments, we find four hundred years of silence. There were no prophets or revelations to give the people of Israel new direction and hope. Generation after generation God’s people waited for Him to speak. What the people saw looked like abandonment, but behind the scenes God was aligning nations and hearts for a promise He had made and would soon be fulfilled.

Maybe you’re in that place between the promise and its fulfillment. You might wonder if God has forgotten, but He hasn’t. When nothing seems to move, it’s often a sign that He’s working in ways you can’t see yet. Strengthening the part of us that will need to stand between the two.

Dare I say, we don’t wait well anymore. We track our Amazon packages, we skip through commercials, and expect answers in seconds with AI. But God’s timing doesn’t work that way. He doesn’t ‘sync’ to our timelines. He invites us into the slow process of trust. Because He knows that faith in an instant doesn’t last.

Habakkuk 2:3 says, “For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not delay.”That verse isn’t there to make us feel warm and fuzzy, but to instruct our souls to wait with expectation. While we are standing still, He’s setting things in motion. And sometimes, like Israel between prophecy and promise fulfilled, He is preparing the ground for blessing.

I used to see waiting as a wall to climb or an obstacle to get past as quickly as possible. But God showed me that waiting happens in the slow, steady, and sacred moments. It’s where He carefully shapes what can’t be rushed.

David and Saul, whose stories are told in 1 Samuel, provide a vivid contrast of waiting.

David understood what it meant to wait well. He was anointed long before he was appointed. Imagine being chosen as king, but sent back to the pasture. But those fields were a training ground. While tending sheep, he learned to hear God’s voice, find refuge in worship, prepare to battle outsized enemies. Nothing was wasted.

Saul’s in-between led to anxiety and hiding because of fear. While chasing validation and grasping for position, Saul hurried to fulfill the promise; David prepared for it. Maybe that’s how we can wait well—not by proving ourselves, but by preparing ourselves.

Consider Hannah who waited through years of disappointment. Unable to conceive a child, she prayed when others mocked and believed when hope felt impossible. Her tears became the water needed to root her faith. And when her prayer was answered with a baby boy, she kept her own promise and offered Samuel back to God. Waiting well, like Hannah, means trusting that even what looks unfulfilled is shaping our hearts for total surrender.

Psalm 37:7a says, “Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for Him.” The in-between looks different for all of us, but the invitation is the same: stay present, stay faithful, and trust God’s timing is as perfect as His love for you.

So what do we do while we’re in-between?

• Show up even when we’re weary.
• Read even when the Word feels stale.
• Serve even when no one is watching.
• Stay faithful even when we’re confused.

Because God does His deepest work in us before He does His best work through us.

When God told me to lay it down, He was really answering my prayer. As a young mom, I prayed to be home with my children, to spend time that mattered with them. I was so focused on the visible things—stages, speaking, platforms—that I almost missed the quiet fulfillment of what I had once prayed for in private.

Waiting changed how I understood blessing. I used to measure God’s faithfulness by what I could see happening, but He showed me that His most sacred work often happens in the quiet, unseen moments. Those years of silence weren’t wasted—they were holy. They taught me to rest instead of rush and to listen instead of lead.

Exodus 14:14 says, “The LORD will fight for you, and you have only to be silent.”And for some of us, silence is hard. It feels like God’s withholding in the quiet when He’s actually quietly working. Working on our trust in Him. Stretching our obedience. Strengthening our faith so it isn’t easily swayed.

If you’re in a season where the familiar has faded and you’re wondering if God still remembers His promises, know that He hasn’t forgotten. Refinement can feel like a delay, but it’s actually God deepening our roots.

For Israel, when the silence finally broke, it wasn’t with thunder or fireworks. It was the sound of a baby’s first cry. It was the Word made flesh and a promise kept. Heaven’s long silence gave way to the Savior’s arrival. What felt like absence was revealed that night to be divine preparation.

Advent teaches us that God’s delays are not His denials. They are the pause before His presence.

That’s the beauty of Advent. It shows us that waiting isn’t wasted. Waiting is pregnant with purpose. What seems like stillness might actually be God’s mercy, giving us time to grow strong before the promise comes. Maybe you’re in a season like that—showing up, staying faithful, but feeling like heaven is silent. If so, remember that the same God who kept His promise in Bethlehem is keeping His promise to you. Even when we can’t hear Him, He’s still speaking, and one day the waiting will turn into wonder.

Friends, if your obedience has led you into silence, don’t lose faith. When heaven feels distant, remember that the silence has a purpose. What looks like stillness is often God preparing you for what’s next. Just as He told me to lay it down walking onto that stage, I’ve learned that sometimes God’s greatest invitations start with a quiet surrender. The same God who asked you to lay it down will be the One who lifts it back up in His time and for His glory.

In the waiting, He is working. Trust the stillness. Embrace His promise.

Prayer: Father, thank you for being near in the silence, in the in-between. Help me to trust You when everything feels quiet. Teach me to wait with anticipation and not hurry. Strengthen my faith in the stillness and remind me that every pause in life is purposeful as you are the Author and finisher of our faith (Heb. 12:2). In Jesus’ name, Amen.