**Trigger Warning** This post contains language of mental health disorders, self-harm, and suicidal ideation. Reader’s discretion is advised. If you are in crisis, please call, text or chat with the Suicide and Crisis Lifeline at 988, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273 TALK (8255), or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741

“Mere sunshine faith is not worth having; we need the kind of faith that will outlive the most terrible storm that ever clouds the heavens. Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, though heart and flesh may fail you. Even though death itself may remove this feeble body, there is no cause for fear, for we may exclaim with dying Jacob, ‘I have waited for Thy salvation, O Lord.’ Let not your hearts be troubled. Wait on the Lord, and your courage shall revive.”

— Charles Spurgeon, Brave Waiting

Do you remember a song with the lyrics: “Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord, wait upon the Lord”? I’ve always disliked that song. In fact, when it was more popular, I really hated it. I used to ask angry questions in my head, like: “What does that even mean — to wait upon the Lord? Why do I have to wait? I’ve been waiting, but where is He? What does it even look like to ‘wait upon the Lord’?”

I’ve never been good at waiting. As a kid, I struggled to wait for things like Christmas morning, birthday presents, long lines for amusement park rides, and food at slow restaurants. But as I’ve grown into adulthood, I’ve realized that the hardest kind of waiting isn’t for material things — it’s waiting on situations completely outside of my control.

I’ve waited for doctors to find the right treatment. I’ve waited for my depressive episodes to lift. I’ve waited for anxiety attacks to pass. I’ve waited for prayers about having a child to be answered. Over the years, these cycles of waiting have worn me down. As I “wait,” my faith often feels like it’s thinning. I’ve wondered if I’m doing something wrong. I’ve wondered if God is angry with me when I pray for relief or provision and nothing changes. And sometimes, I’ve gotten angry back: “Why do I have to wait?”

There was a time, during a particularly dark battle with anxiety and depression, when I didn’t think I could wait any longer to be with Jesus. I longed to go be with Him right then. I couldn’t see a reason to keep enduring — spending a week at a time in cold, sterile psychiatric hospitals, lying on paper-thin mattresses every three to six months, because I couldn’t be trusted to be alone.

During that time, Philippians 1:21-23 spoke deeply to me — though, sadly, in a twisted and unhealthy way:

“For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.”

I didn’t understand what Paul meant by “to live is Christ.” For me, living felt like endless bitterness, fighting a battle I could never win, trapped in the darkness of my broken mind — a living death sentence, certainly not “fruitful labor” as Paul described. Yet, I believed enough to think that “to die is gain.”

Like Paul, I’ve been “hard-pressed” between living and dying many times. I’ve believed — and still believe — that departing to be with Christ is far better. But at my lowest, I wasn’t willing to wait. I wasn’t willing to trust God’s plan for me on this side of heaven. I thought ending my life was the only way to find peace because I had lost hope that anything here was worth living for.

But hear me when I say: this is not what Paul meant.

I was in the throes of deep depression, and the enemy had a grip on both my hope and my perspective. I was unwilling to trust the God who created me, loved me, and knit me together for a purpose. If you are struggling with similar thoughts or the desire to harm yourself, please reach out — talk to someone you trust, or contact one of the hotlines listed at the beginning of this post. You are not alone.

For a long time, I thought people in the Bible who waited for God’s provision received it as quickly as I read the next verse. Even when the Bible mentions long spans of time, I never sat with the reality of that waiting. But look at these examples:

• Abraham and Sarah waited 25 years for the promised child.
  
  
• Joseph was imprisoned for 13 years before becoming second in command of Egypt.
  
  
• The Israelites wandered for 40 years before entering the Promised Land.
  
  
• David waited 15 years after being anointed before becoming king.
  
  
• Simeon waited his entire life to see the Messiah God promised him.
  
  
• Hannah waited an unknown but likely many years for a child.
  
  

Double-digit years.

That’s a sobering realization: God’s timeline rarely matches ours. Waiting is not as quick as reading the next verse.

In studying Psalm 27 for this post, I wondered how long David waited for God to deliver him from his enemies. Many scholars believe this psalm was written when David was fleeing from King Saul, who wanted to kill him. According to various commentaries, David spent 7 to 10 years running for his life. And when David had the perfect chance to kill Saul, he didn’t take it — he waited for God to act.

This makes the final verse of Psalm 27 all the more powerful:

“Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.” (Psalm 27:14, NLT)

David never doubted God’s faithfulness, even in years of fear and suffering. If David could trust God while hiding in caves, why should I doubt God’s steadfast love and care for me in my own waiting?

“Biblical waiting is not just twiddling your thumbs — it’s a deep, expectant trust that God is going to come through.”

“To wait is to say God is worth it — even if I don’t have what I want right now.”

— John Piper

I’m learning that waiting on God doesn’t have to be a burden. It can be a joy — a chance to depend fully on the One who loves me and knows the plans He has for me. God has been teaching me to wait with greater assurance and joy my whole life. I’m only just now realizing it.

“If we but saw our God in His love — if we truly believed that He waits to be gracious, that He waits to be our life and to work all in us — how this waiting on God would become our highest joy, the natural and spontaneous response of our hearts to His great love and glory.”

— Andrew Murray

Why Is Waiting Good for Us?

1. Waiting Reveals God’s Sovereignty

If God gave us everything instantly, we might never see His heart, His timing, or His care. Waiting forces us to slow down, lean on Him, and recognize His provision.

In Psalm 27:4, David beautifully describes his deepest desire:

“To live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, delighting in the Lord’s perfections and meditating in His Temple.” (NLT)

Even while surrounded by danger, David longed to dwell with God. He likely wanted relief right away — to hide in God’s sanctuary and celebrate His deliverance immediately. But David kept praying, trusting God’s promises, and ultimately waiting for God’s perfect timing.

2. Waiting Strengthens Faith

Waiting deepens our relationship with God as we depend on Him more fully.

Take Hannah, for example (1 Samuel 1–2). She endured grief and ridicule while longing for a child. Yet she didn’t lose hope. When God finally blessed her with Samuel, she praised Him and dedicated her only son back to Him. 1 Samuel 2 is an entire chapter of Hannah’s heartfelt worship:

“The Lord has made me strong… I rejoice because You rescued me.” (1 Samuel 2:1)

Hannah’s season of waiting produced a deeper faith and a beautiful testimony of God’s faithfulness.

3. Waiting Prepares Us for Christ’s Return

Lastly, waiting on the Lord is good because it ultimately points us to Jesus Himself. Over and over in the New Testament, Jesus calls us to wait for His return with hope and readiness:

“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me. In My Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to Myself, that where I am you may be also.”

— John 14:1–3 (ESV)

Waiting does not mean life will go our way. Some seasons will bring pain, trials, and tears. But Jesus reminds us to wait for Him — because He is coming, and He will make all things new.

I still struggle to wait. I still wait for depression to lift. I still wait for anxiety to quiet. I still wait for deep pain to ease. There have been nights when the waiting feels endless, when the enemy whispers lies that drain me of hope.

And yet, I come back to this promise:
“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is Your faithfulness.
‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul,
‘therefore I will hope in Him.’
The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
to the soul who seeks Him.”
— Lamentations 3:21–25 (ESV)

It’s like when I show a friend my favorite piece of classical music. As they listen, I can see the impatience on their face, the boredom setting in. But then I say, “Here comes the best part — just wait for it!” And when that moment finally arrives, and they see the smile across my face, they smile too — knowing the wait was worth it.

I still don’t particularly love that song I mentioned at the start. But now, I believe its message: strength really does rise as we wait upon the Lord. I have seen it. I’m living it. I’m still waiting — and I pray that you will wait, too.

“Blessed Father! We humbly beseech Thee, let none who wait on Thee be ashamed; not one. Some are weary, and the time of waiting feels long. Some are feeble and scarcely know how to wait. Some are tangled in the effort of their prayers and their work, believing they cannot find time to wait continually. Father, teach us all how to wait. Teach us to think of each other, to pray for each other, and most of all to think of Thee — the God of all who wait. Father, let none who wait on Thee be ashamed. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.”

— Andrew Murray, Waiting on God, Day Six