When Waiting is Weighty
/The longer the wait tarries, the heavier the weight it carries.
At first, waiting can feel manageable—even hopeful, because the very essence of waiting implies an expectant hope of what is to come or maybe what might come to an end. So as time stretches on, the glimmer of hope in the wait can be dimmed by the heaviness of the pressure of uncertainty. What once felt light becomes something you carry.
Waiting can weary us.
And yet, sometimes, waiting is a place we must stay with no clear way forward, no shortcut around it, and no easy way to avoid it..
We don’t choose the wait. But we do choose how we wait.
Last week, I experienced my first (and hopefully only) overnight delay in an airport. What was supposed to be a simple, straight forward trip turned into hours of sitting, watching screens change, hearing hopeful updates followed by longer delays in the hopeless wait, and it all was a little disheartening.
It was the kind of waiting where you’re too tired to function well, but too alert to truly rest. Exhaustion set in quickly, and with it came impatience. I could physically feel the lack of sleep giving way to a lack of patience, and the looming thought of lost productivity only made it worse. I wasn’t just waiting anymore…I was resisting the wait.
I wanted control. I wanted movement. I wanted out. But none of that was available to me. All I could do was wait.
There are seasons in life that feel just like that airport. We didn’t plan to be there. We didn’t expect the delay, and we definitely wouldn’t have chosen it, and yet, that where you find ourselves…
Waiting for answers, wanting clarity, praying for healing, and just longing for a change in circumstances that will move us from waiting to celebrating.
If we’re honest, part of what makes it so heavy is the fact that we just can’t fix it. Scripture doesn’t ignore this kind of waiting, in fact, it speaks directly into it.
“I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope;” (Psalm 130:5, ESV)
Notice the way the English Standard Version puts it—my soul waits. Other translations say my whole being waits.
This isn’t casual waiting. This is deep, soul-level endurance, and it call to us to wait well by embracing the wait rather than pushing it away, rushing it, or merely distracting ourselves from it.
But what if, instead of resisting, we leaned in just enough to see what God might be doing in it? What if the wait isn’t just something to survive, but something to receive from?
“Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him…” (Psalm 37:7, ESV)
Stillness doesn’t come easy, especially when everything in us wants movement, progress, and productivity. Just maybe the invitation in waiting is not to strive harder—but to rest deeper.
I had a rather simple, yet quite profound realization in that airport that night. When everything slows down—when we’re forced to stop—we start to notice things we normally miss — the conversations around us, the needs of others, the state of our own hearts. Maybe that’s part of the purpose of waiting.
We move so quickly through life that we rarely pause long enough to reflect, to listen, to truly see. Waiting has a way of awakening us to what may be evading us. Awakening us to where we’ve been running on empty, where we’ve been distracted, or where we’ve been depending on control instead of trust.
"The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him.” (Lamentations 3:25, ESV)
Waiting creates space to seek—not just solutions, but God Himself.
Waiting at times is unavoidable, so I’d love to leave you with this question to reflect on, followed by some practical things you can do while you wait.
How do we walk through waiting in a way that shapes us instead of drains us?
Here are a few ways to engage the wait with purpose (and maybe even lighten the weight of the wait):
Shift from resisting to receiving. Instead of constantly asking, “How do I get out of this?” try asking, “God, what are You showing me in this?”
Practice intentional stillness. Even a few moments of quiet prayer or reflection can re-center your heart when everything feels restless.
Anchor yourself in truth. “but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31, ESV) God promises renewal—not necessarily immediacy, but strength for the waiting.
Release the pressure to be productive. Not every moment needs to produce something measurable. Some seasons are about being formed, not achieving more.
Trust that delay is not denial. “For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.” (Habakkuk 2:3, ESV) God’s timing is not careless—it’s intentional.
Eventually, my flight took off; albeit the next day. The waiting eventually ended. The movement slowly resumed. I left that airport and returned home with more than just exhaustion—I left with perspective.
Because the truth is, every wait—whether it lasts hours or years—has an end, but what it produces in us can last far longer.
So if the wait feels weighty right now, you’re not alone, and perhaps there is something in this season that you would have missed if life had moved at your preferred pace.
So don’t just endure the wait.
Let it shape you. Let it slow you. Let it show you God’s faithfulness.
He is not absent in the delay. In fact, He is ever present right smack dab in the middle of it.
Waiting may be weighty, but waiting in hope bears the weight of glory.