“Waiting, by definition, has something hoped for at the end of the wait. We are waiting / hoping for the right job. My friends are waiting/hoping for a good report, relief, and a baby. But what if those things aren’t given?”

I had a horse named Carson who was practically perfect in every way—as long as she was moving. The minute she had to stand still and wait, she would pace back and forth, stomp her feet, and throw her head. I would run back and forth to the tack room to hurry and saddle her because she would create such a restless ruckus. As long as she was moving, she was calm, obedient, and a joy. But when she had to wait, she was a night“mare.”

Honestly, I empathized with her. I’m not good at waiting either. I would much rather be moving forward. Somewhere. Anywhere. But sitting quietly and waiting is hard for me. So can you guess what God has me doing right now? Waiting. My husband and I are in a season of waiting for God to show us what’s next—where we should go and what we should do.

But we’re not the only ones. I have a friend waiting for the lab results from her husband’s biopsy. Another friend is waiting for a reprieve from an emotionally devastating situation. Yet another continues to wait and hope for a child. These are not light things to wait for. Psalm 37:7 tells us to “be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him.” Unlike Carson, I want to learn how to do this—to be still as I wait.

I recently heard a pastor say, “The waiting may be hard, but it never leads to disappointment.” The truth of that statement rests entirely on what we think we are waiting for. In other words, the question isn’t simply what am I waiting for, but what am I hoping in? I’m learning that waiting and hope are intimately tied together.

Waiting, by definition, has something hoped for at the end of the wait. We are waiting/hoping for the right job. My friends are waiting/hoping for a good report, relief, and a baby. But what if those things aren’t given? God never promises that our seasons of waiting will end by receiving exactly what we want. Not all infertility ends with a baby. Not all cancer ends with a cure. Not all singleness ends with a spouse. Which means that our hope can’t be anchored in the thing we’re waiting for. Our hope has to be anchored in something far greater—the promises and character of God.

passed a billboard on my way to the airport this morning that proclaimed, “Jesus heals cancer. You don’t have to die.” Where in the world do we see that in Scripture? They’re claiming a promise God never made—and giving a hope that’s not ours to hold. The psalmist said, “I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I hope” (Ps. 130:5). Our hope has to be anchored in the promises God has given us in Scripture. Here are just a few:

• I will never leave you nor forsake you (Heb. 13:5).
• And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose (Rom. 8:28).
• Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us (Rom. 8:26).
• Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us (Rom. 8:34).
• Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you (1 Peter 5:7).
• 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 14:2–3).

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