June 26, 2024

 

 

In my lifetime, the hardest moments I've experienced are the moments that demanded I wait. A season of waiting that removes my ability to control or navigate outcomes.  The kind of waiting that eliminates any sense of control.  Personally, I'd rather be in the throes of a spiritual battle or feeling the pressure of high-impact decisions and even resolving conflict between grieving parties.  But waiting, waiting is hard.  

But they who wait for 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. (Isaiah 40:31).  I was prompted to memorize this verse as a child, but the weight of this verse was lost on me in my youth. As a child, I couldn’t conjure up enough patience to wait on anything.  As the youngest of four children, I understood if I was going to get my share of anything I better act quickly.  I learned to be a bit shrewd and almost cunning to get a piece of the proverbial pie.  However, that mindset has wreaked havoc on my soul as an adult believer.

 

Waiting has always made me feel inadequate.  Waiting feels lazy.  For a self-starter, waiting feels like a waste of time and energy. Yet waiting is a common theme throughout scripture in the lives of some mighty men and women. From Joseph being falsely imprisoned for more than ten years and waiting to be remembered by the cupbearer, to David hiding and waiting in caves during the reign of Saul, Esther had fasted and prayed for three days for her opportunity to appear before the king to present her petition to save the Jews from Haman’s decree, Nehemiah waited four months to speak with the King, Noah waited in an ark for a year, the disciples waited forty-seven days for Pentecost. There seem to be significant stories of waiting from Elijah to Paul, where waiting dictated seasons of their life.  

 

So why do I think God would use another tool to shape me differently when it comes to waiting? See, waiting is a refining anvil like no other.  Waiting fleeces my strength.  It emaciates my pride and ego as well.  Waiting eradicates control.  And that is why I struggle with waiting.  At the end of the day, my spirit longs for control.  My inhibitions desire to dictate outcomes and secretly relish in the sense of superiority to life's questions, but deeper my soul clings to advancing my self-worth. Waiting reminds me that my life is not about my self-worth.

 

See, they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, leaves the impression that I get my strength back when I wait. Yet, my strength is what needs to be surrendered. Philippians 2:3 (AMP) For it is [not your strength, but it is] God who is effectively at work in you, both to will and to work [that is, strengthening, energizing, and creating in you the longing and the ability to fulfill your purpose] for His good pleasure.  My strength only intensifies my will, not His. The period of waiting for the disciples for Pentecost was crucial to their empowerment of the Holy Spirit. A.B Simpson, the founder of the Christian and Missionary Alliance, has something to say about waiting until we are clothed or filled with the Spirit. He said, “These waiting days were necessary to enable the disciples to realize their need, their nothingness, their failure, and their dependence upon the Master. They had to get emptied first before they would get filled.”

 

When I wait upon the Lord I receive His strength through His Spirit, not mine.  In the waiting, my strength is challenged and in some sense put to death for His strength to take center stage in my soul.

 

The question that stirs in my soul is, “Who’s strength do I want to operate in?”  If I want to be filled by the Spirit then waiting becomes a nonnegotiable, but if I want a temporary, fleeting, empty moment of self-approval then by all means, Korey you do you.