Finding Hope in the Waiting

When nothing seems to be moving, but God is still working

There are certain seasons where the days feel like they stretch out a little too long. You’re doing all the right things — praying, showing up, staying faithful — but nothing seems to be shifting. You ask God for clarity, and instead, you get what feels like silence. You open your Bible hoping for direction, and sometimes all you get is a reminder to trust when you’d rather have an answer.

Waiting has a way of making us feel like maybe we missed something… or maybe God forgot to loop us in.

I can’t tell you how many times over this past year I’ve whispered, “Lord, can You just show me what to do next?” Not because I was trying to rush Him — although sometimes I was — but because uncertainty can wear a person down. Your mind starts spinning. Your heart starts tightening. You start wondering if hope is for other people and not for you.

But here’s what I’ve learned the hard way: waiting is not empty.
It feels empty. It feels frustrating. It feels still. But waiting is actually one of the places where God does His quietest but most important work.

And I want to talk about that with you today — not as someone who’s mastered waiting, but as someone who is still learning how to breathe through it.

When Waiting Feels Like a Standstill

One of the hardest parts of waiting is that nothing looks different on the outside. People ask how you’re doing and you don’t know what to say because the truth is… you’re doing everything you know how to do. You’re showing up. You’re trusting. You’re trying to keep your heart soft. You’re reading Scripture in the morning, whispering small prayers throughout the day, and telling God you want to follow Him even when you don’t see the next step.

But everything still looks the same. And that can feel discouraging.

Sometimes the waiting is about direction — like asking God, “Where do You want me next?”

Sometimes it’s about healing — “Why does this still hurt so much?”

Sometimes it’s about relationships — “Lord, please soften this person’s heart… or mine.”

And sometimes it’s about peace — “Can You steady me? Because life feels shaky right now.”

None of those are small things. And none of them shift overnight.

Waiting stretches us in ways we don’t expect. It forces us to face our impatience, our fears, our desire to control outcomes. It reveals the parts of us that want to move ahead of God because standing still feels too vulnerable.

But Psalm 27:14 has been sitting with me this year:
“Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
It doesn’t say to wait perfectly. It just says to take heart and keep waiting — because God is still moving, even when we can’t see it yet.

Hope Isn’t Passive — It’s a Practice

I used to think hope was a feeling. Something that would just show up when life eased up. Something that would float in when God answered a prayer.

But hope — real, steady, grounded hope — is often a practice long before it becomes a feeling.

Some days hope looks like opening your Bible before you check your phone.

Some days it looks like taking one deep breath and saying, “God, I trust You with this.”

Some days it looks like pausing before you react, because you want your response to reflect faith instead of fear.

Some days it’s simply refusing to give up — even when nothing has changed yet.

Hope grows slowly. Quietly. Almost invisibly. But every small choice to stay close to God is like adding a drop of water to a seed buried deep beneath the surface.

You don’t see the growth right away. But you feel something shifting inside — not all at once, but gradually. Something softening. Something strengthening. Something becoming steadier than you thought you were capable of.

When You’re Tempted to Fix It Yourself

Waiting exposes a truth most of us don’t like to admit: we want control more than we want surrender.

Unfortunately, that is so me!

There have been so many situations this past year where I caught myself thinking, “Maybe I just need to handle this myself.” Not because God wasn’t moving — but because I felt uncomfortable not knowing when He would.

But every time I’ve tried to rush ahead of God, I end up with more anxiety, not less.
More confusion, not more clarity. More turmoil, not more peace.

And that’s because peace never comes from control — it comes from trust.

One of the quietest acts of hope is choosing not to force the outcome. Choosing not to manipulate the timing. Choosing not to panic just because God is working behind the scenes instead of in front of you.

Letting go is difficult. But letting God lead is where hope begins to anchor itself.

What God Grows in the Waiting

I know it sounds strange, but some of the deepest spiritual growth happens when it feels like nothing is happening.

Waiting teaches you patience — the kind that can’t be rushed.

Waiting teaches you how to listen to God instead of your fear.

Waiting slows you down long enough to notice the small ways He’s been grounding you.

Waiting builds trust that isn’t based on circumstances.

Waiting strengthens your faith in a way easy seasons never could.

And here’s something else:
Waiting creates space for God to shape your character before He shifts your situation.

You might not see the fruit of that right now — most of us don’t see it until later. But it’s happening. Quietly. Faithfully. Deep below the surface.

A Few Real Moments From My Own Waiting

This last year with God — this very first year walking closely with Him again — has taught me what waiting looks like day to day.

There were mornings I opened my Bible and read the same passage three times because my mind kept drifting. And I still stayed.

There were days I felt restless and prayed, “Lord, I want clarity,” and instead of answers, I felt Him nudge me to slow down.

There were weeks I didn’t see any movement at all and wondered if I misunderstood what He was doing — but then something tiny would shift inside me, and it was enough to keep me steady.

And what I’ve realized is this:

God isn’t just working on the outcome. He’s working on me — so that when the next step comes, I’m actually ready for it.

Hope Usually Shows Up Quietly

I think we expect hope to arrive like a spotlight — bright, sudden, unmistakable.

But more often, it shows up like this:

• A verse that settles your heart
  

• A moment of calm you didn’t have the day before
  

• A small decision that feels more confident than yesterday
  

• A sense that God is closer than He felt last month
  

Hope doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it just gently shifts the air around you.

Sometimes you don’t even recognize it until you look back and realize you feel steadier than you did before. Sometimes I have to remind myself that God never asks me to fill myself with hope — He’s the One who fills.

Romans 15:13 puts it so beautifully:
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”

It’s not on us to produce hope. It’s on us to trust the One who does.

Toward the end of writing this, I found myself thinking about something that helped me recently: hope becomes real the moment you stop looking for signs and start looking for God.

He’s in the quiet.
He’s in the stillness.
He’s in the ordinary moments where you’re trying your best to trust Him.

So here’s something to sit with today: Where has God been strengthening you quietly, even in the places where you’re still waiting?

With gratitude and faith,
Patti