Have you ever felt like Sarah, waiting on a promise that God had given you? Sarah waited for the son God had promised her and Abraham, knowing that God had spoken it and believing that, in His timing, it would come to pass. But I imagine there were moments when the waiting became difficult and she wondered how much longer she could hold on. Sometimes we forget that the waiting isn’t only about the promise itself. Sometimes the waiting is about preparing us to carry the promise when it finally arrives.
Isaac wasn’t just a son. He was the fulfillment of a promise and part of something much bigger than Sarah and Abraham could see in that moment. God had plans for their family that went far beyond what they could comprehend. There had to be a preparation season before the promise came because God wasn’t simply preparing them to receive a child; He was preparing them to carry everything that would come with that promise. I believe that is what God has been doing in my life lately. I feel like I am in a waiting season, but I also feel like I am in a preparation season. God is preparing me and my family for what is to come, but more than anything, I believe He is preparing me to handle it.
If I’m being honest, there are areas of my character that God has been working on that I probably wouldn’t have chosen to work on myself. I have never been great at handling criticism. I have a sensitive heart, and I am very sensitive to what other people think. I’m sensitive to criticism, rejection, and even to the moments when I know I should speak but instead choose to hold back. Over the years, I have become more withdrawn and guarded, and I know some of that came from past situations that hurt me. Those experiences taught me to protect myself, but God has been showing me that sometimes the walls we build to protect ourselves can also become walls that keep us from growing.
Lately, God has been humbling me and teaching me about humility in ways I didn’t expect. He has been teaching me how to receive correction without allowing it to define me, how to speak when I need to speak, and how to step out when everything in me wants to shrink back. He has been teaching me that it is okay to try new things and to get uncomfortable. I feel like He has been taking me out of the places that feel safe and familiar and showing me that the next season of my life may require me to do things differently. When we are walking in God’s will, comfortable isn’t always the goal. Sometimes obedience is uncomfortable. Sometimes growth requires us to step outside of what we know and trust God in places where we don’t feel completely prepared.
I think we all know what it feels like to get close to something we have prayed for, only to suddenly feel like the pressure becomes unbearable. It can feel like you are standing right on the edge of the promise, and then everything gets harder. Your emotions become overwhelming. Your thoughts become louder. Your confidence begins to slip, and suddenly, the easiest thing to do seems to be turning around and going back to what is familiar. I have experienced that many times. In fact, I have noticed that the areas where I am most sensitive—my emotions, my thoughts, my feelings, my mind, and even physically—are often the areas where I feel the greatest pressure when I am stepping into something new.
There have been times when that pressure made me want to quit. I have wanted to withdraw, shut everything down, and go back to what felt comfortable. But I’m learning that when the pressure increases, I don’t need to run; I need to become more rooted. I’m not saying I never have moments where I think, “I just want to quit,” because I absolutely do. The difference is that I am learning what to do with those feelings. Instead of allowing them to dictate my next step, I take them to Jesus. I go to my quiet place, my prayer closet, wherever I can get away from the noise and simply be in His presence.
Sometimes I don’t have the right words. Sometimes all I have are tears. Sometimes it’s a mumble, a groan, or a whispered prayer that doesn’t even make sense to me. But God understands it all. He understands the prayers that never become sentences. He understands the tears that communicate what words cannot. He knows the weight we are carrying before we ever find the courage or the ability to explain it to Him. There is something so comforting about knowing that I don’t have to come to God with everything figured out. I can simply come to Him.
Recently, I moved a little bench we had purchased for a makeshift pool shed. The pool shed never really became a pool shed—it ended up becoming more storage than anything else. So I eventually brought the bench into my bedroom and placed it at the foot of my bed, and I absolutely love it there. Sometimes it holds laundry that hasn’t been put away yet, but lately, it has been holding something much more important: my tears, my prayers, and my surrender. It has become my makeshift altar, my quiet place, and my meeting place with Jesus.
When I sit there, I’m reminded that I don’t have to figure everything out. I don’t have to carry everything myself, and I don’t have to understand God’s timing. I just have to keep coming back to Him—back to His presence, back to His promises, and back to my Prince of Peace. Because peace doesn’t always mean that the storm disappears. Sometimes peace means that you can sit in the middle of the storm and still know who is holding you. Sometimes peace is simply knowing that even when you don’t understand what God is doing, you can trust that He is doing something.
Maybe He is preparing you. Maybe He is strengthening you, humbling you, stretching you, and making room inside of you for what you have been praying for. Maybe the pressure you are feeling isn’t proof that you should turn around. Maybe it is an invitation to dig deeper. Maybe you are closer than you think. Sometimes we are so close to crossing over into something new that the temptation to quit becomes stronger than ever. But that is when we have to make the decision to stay rooted instead of retreating into what is comfortable.
I don’t want to surrender to my emotions anymore. I don’t want fear to make my decisions for me. I don’t want to shrink back simply because something feels uncomfortable. I want to keep pressing forward, keep praying, keep believing, and keep allowing God to prepare me. Because there is a reason He is asking me to grow. There is a reason He is stretching me beyond what feels comfortable. There is a reason He is working on the areas of my heart that I would rather avoid. When He says it’s time, I want to be positioned to say yes. I want to be ready for the assignment and ready for the responsibility that comes with the promise.
Because sometimes it only takes one conversation. One opportunity. One moment. One manifestation. One “suddenly.” And that is why the waiting matters. The preparation matters. The uncomfortable season matters. We may not understand why God is allowing us to go through certain things while we wait, but perhaps He is using the waiting to make us capable of carrying what we have asked Him for.
So while I wait, I’m learning to sit at my makeshift altar. I’m learning to lay everything at His feet—to breathe, pray, cry, listen, and surrender. I’m learning that I don’t want to simply survive the waiting season; I want to be changed by it. I want to come out stronger, wiser, humbler, more surrendered, more rooted, and more ready for whatever God has ahead.
So if you are in your waiting season too, don’t give up just because it’s hard. Don’t turn back just because you’re uncomfortable. Don’t mistake the pressure for the absence of God. Keep going. Keep digging your roots deeper. Keep finding your quiet place. Keep laying it at His feet. And above all, keep finding your Prince of Peace. He is still with you in the waiting, and when your “suddenly” comes, you will be ready.