Patient Hope in Waiting.

Slow down; be still my heart.

Listen and linger; I’ve been here from the very start.

My love casts out fear, and brings perfect peace.

Hold fast with hope, even in the waiting.

If we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

Romans 8:25

Patience is a fruit of the spirit, produced in our hearts and minds as we draw near to Him. For me, patience has never been a natural bend. When I hope for or desire something, the urgency of it overwhelms me. But in Romans, we’re told to wait with patient hope.

Sometimes I wonder what in the world that looks like.

Unhurried. Patient. Confident in hope.

Sometimes I hide from the Lord, struggling to trust His good plans for me. Yet I quickly discover discomfort in my distance. Without the nearness of Jesus, I feel rushed and impatient, my foot anxiously tapping the floor below me.

It could be in line for coffee, the momentary pause before the light turns from red to green, or the yet more difficult seasons of searching for clarity, repair, or beauty after breaking. No matter what it’s for, I’ve never been good at waiting.

But when I look up, Jesus changes everything. As I fix my eyes above, my heart, my mind and my soul find the rest they’ve been looking for. A moment in His courts becomes a gentle reprieve from the troubles He calls momentary but I call all-consuming.

There, I find grace – even peace and joy – to sustain me in the waiting. How often I forget this is His promise of withness. As I turn to Him, patient hope becomes a unique and mysterious result of God’s grace at work in my heart.

…

In the arms of the Father, God reminds me I am not called to striving and self-reliance. I am encouraged toward hope in the unseen, believing He is good on His promise. When I open my heart to receive, patient hope in place of striving is His sweet gift to me. Moment by moment, as I turn my eyes upon Jesus, patience inhabits more and more of my Spirit as He fills me to overflowing. With His help, I return to what is true:

I am not in a hurry.

Such slowness feels unfamiliar, so that’s how I know He is near. This is Christ’s presence alive in me. Not by might, not by power, but by His Spirit I receive His peace.

…

Because of Jesus, we can wait with joyful expectation, knowing our labor is not in vain. We can lean in with faith that gives us confidence in what we hope for, and assurance for what we don’t see because the Lord has shown Himself faithful for all eternity.

We wait joyfully because He’s promised streets of gold instead of sorrow,

Eternal life – days no longer borrowed,

And every tear wiped from our face.

We wait joyfully because the promise of Heaven await us, just beyond those ancient gates.

…

There’s a lot I hope for that I don’t yet see. Often, I hustle, hurry, and grip tightly – striving my way to victory. When I fall into step with Jesus, I see more clearly. In slowness, I become more aware of His beauty and grace in the unexpected places, as I hang suspended in the in-between. There, His wisdom clarifies and refines as I sit at His feet. Fears and misplaced desires begin to fall away, and what begins to take shape is a life lived simply for His glory. Here is where I remember: there is purpose in the waiting. And not only that, but there is joy and life abundant in the space between.

It’s my joy to wait on Him.

Patient hope responds to God’s beckoning in want and in plenty. It trusts in His plan for redemption and restoration of the whole world that He holds so dearly in the palm of His hand.

…

Today, I find myself in many waiting’s.

I’m waiting for repair and reconciliation, for justice and mercy, healing and breakthrough, daily bread and heavenly provisions, for peace and harmony.

Sometimes, as I wait, my heart perceives delay as forsakenness but it’s quite the contrary. Even and especially here, I know He is close to me. Every longing I hope to see God’s hand move in reminds me of the greater story and promise as we await the second arrival of Jesus where He will return to establish a new heaven and a new earth.

The truth is, this heart of mine, and the one beating to keep you alive, was made for shalom –

for a garden where there was no fear in being seen or known,

where there was no question about the sovereignty and power of the Lord who sits enthroned,

where there was perfect harmony between man and God.

As I wrestle waiting for what I do not yet have, I am reminded of the desire hidden in the depths of my heart: I’m longing for Eden. I’m longing for life to be what it was always meant to be – free from pain, sorrow, and striving; a simple life full of joy and delight.

If you’re searching for more peace, joy, love, harmony, connection, or meaning – your heart may, too, be lovesick for the garden – for God’s original design. As I await Christ’s return, and all of the other things I hope for yet do not have, I am learning how to wait patiently, expectantly, and joyfully. In the space between, He’s teaching me how to:

Cling to His promise – desperately, dependently, wholeheartedly.

Remember His faithfulness – He sent His son because He so loved the world.

Taste and see His goodness here among the living – stare at a sunset, laugh with some friends, thank Him for what I do have.

Delight in the gift of His presence – turn to Him, and never stop. Repent, be honest in my doubt, and let Him reveal Himself to me.

…

As you wait for the unseen, may you take heart. May you trust and believe. Every good work begun by our Father He will complete. As you wait for what you do not yet have, may your Spirit learn how to walk in step with Jesus – waiting patiently.

Wait with expectation because God is faithful and kind.

Wait because His eternal glory far outweighs every momentary trouble we face.

Wait because He makes beautiful things in perfect time.

Everything that asks patience of us is an echo to the greater waiting we endure between Jesus’ two arrivals. May you cling to the cloak of Jesus, and never let go.

This is patient hope.