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When God Says Stand Still But Your Heart Is Tired of Waiting

  • xwithlovet25
  • 11 minutes ago
  • 5 min read
"The weight of the wait hurts, but He meets me there."
"The weight of the wait hurts, but He meets me there."

There's a kind of waiting we don't talk much about in church.


Not the cute waiting.

Not the "God's timing is perfect!" waiting.

Not the "Sis, just be patient" waiting.


I mean the quiet war that happens inside your chest when God says "Stand still" but the clock in your soul keeps whispering "Okay...but how long?"


It's the wait that presses into the part of you that still wants clarity, timing, reassurance; anything that feels like movement.


And that's where I am right now.


Not running away from God.

Not losing faith.

Just... feeling the heaviness of waiting.


I Don't Mind Waiting... But This Part Hurts


What hurts is not knowing when.

I don't mind waiting on God. I really don't. But the not knowing? That's the part that pokes at my heart.


When?

How long?

Will it happen?

Am I waiting in the right place?

Did I hear God wrong?

Am I missing something?


And here's where it gets tricky, and really honest:


I always tell God I don't mind waiting, and that's true. But what I don't like is the uncertainty that comes with waiting. And that doesn't make me double-minded. It just makes me human. My spirit trusts Him...but my heart feels the weight of the wait. And somewhere between those two truths, that's where God is stretching me.


It's funny how the same wait that protected me in one season becomes the same wait that got me into trouble in another.


I stayed before when everything in me said leave.

I stayed when God said move.

I stayed when patience became my excuse for not letting go.


And that "patience"–that wrong kind of patience– cost me pieces of my purity, my peace, and my clarity.


That's why waiting scares me sometimes. Not just because I hate the process..but because I've waited in the wrong places before.


The Patterns God Keeps Breaking In Me


As I've been sitting with God, I'm noticing He's breaking patterns in me, the same ones He broke before elevating people in Scripture.


Like Joesph.

I rushed ahead. I trusted too fast. I give my heart before the foundation is even built. And like Joseph, I've learned some hard lessons in pits and prisons of my own making due to premature trust in God. God is teaching me that timing matters just as much as calling.


Like Ruth.

I tend to stay loyal to places and people I've outgrown. Ruth had to release the familiar before she ever found favor. God is teaching me how to walk through fields faithfully without forcing outcomes.


Like Esther.

There's a quietness in me that used to come from insecurity, not discernment. I hid myself. Chose silence even when I had something to say. God is breaking that. He's teaching me when to speak, when to stand still, and when to take up space.


Like Jehoshaphat.

Wrong alliances. Fear- driven decisions. Emotional choices. He had to relearn discernment, trust and so do I. God is teaching me what to leave behind and what to stand still for.


At first it felt like contradiction. Now I'm seeing it's transformation. God is rewriting patterns that once protected me, but later wounded me so He can prepare me for the promise I've been praying for.


This is where 2 chronicles 20 got in my business


I didn't realize it, but I've been living inside that story. Not the dramatic parts with armies and nations. The internal parts.

The fear.

The confusion.

The "God, I don't know what to do."

The "is this obedience or fear?"

The "am I standing still or stuck?"

Yeah, that part.


Jehoshaphat wasn't dealing with heartbreak or temptation like me but the spiritual principle still hits:


"We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on You." (2 Chronicles 20:12)


That's me. I don't know what to do about:

My heart.

My desires.

Relationships.

Timing.

Direction.

The next chapter of my life.

But my eyes are still on Him.

And then God gives this instruction that feels more like a deep breath than a battle plan:


"You will not have to fight this battle. Stand firm...and see my salvation." (2 Chronicles 20:17)


Stand firm.

Not perform.

Not fix things.

Not go back to old patterns.

Not rush.

Not prove myself.

Just...stand.

And let's be real, standing still hurts when your heart is tired.


Because Standing Still Feels Like Silence


And today... while I was fighting the urge to overthink whether I'm waiting right, the song "Quiet (stripped)" by Elevation Rhythm came out of nowhere.


"You make me quiet. You make me still."


And I felt that. Not in a dramatic, tears running down my face kind of way. But in a "God, You're speaking right to my heart through this moment" kind of way.


Maybe the stillness isn't punishment although at times it feel that way.

Maybe it's protection. Maybe God is quieting the noise inside of me:


the part of me that wants to run back,

the part that's scared of messing up,

the part that questions everything,

and the part that secretly wonders if waiting means forgotten.


The Real Fight Is Inside me


2 Chronicles 20 wasn’t just about a physical enemy, it was multiple attacks at once. And honestly, that feels familiar. The enemy has been using old patterns, pressures, and internal battles against me. My enemies aren’t people, my ‘vast army’ is the war happening inside of me:


  • fear

  • identity

  • obedience

  • surrender

  • emotional discipline

  • not rushing what God is doing

  • trusting without a timeline


And that is exactly the season I'm in. A war that looks external but is really internal. A battle that's less about 'them' and more about me. The real war isn't what people are doing TO me, it's what God is doing IN me.


Some days, my faith has to speak louder than my feelings. And honestly? God is stretching the part of me that still thinks waiting means nothing is happening


So What Is God Doing in This?


I don't know. But Here's what I feel Him whispering to me:


"I'm not testing your ability to wait. I'm testing your ability to trust Me while waiting."


"I'm teaching you the difference between what I told you to stay in and what I told you to leave."


"I'm protecting the version of you that I'm building."


"I'm not late. I'm positioning and aligning you."


"Stillness is not stagnation. It's strategy."


Closing Reflection


Maybe you're like me, willing to wait, but wrestling with the "how long?"

If so, I want to leave you with the part of 2 Chronicle 20 I can't shake:


"Do not be afraid or discouraged...for the battle is not yours, but God's." (2 Chronicle 20:15)


Maybe the timing is heavy because it's not mine to carry.

Maybe the "when" is not my responsibility.

Maybe the"how long" doesn't weaken the promise.

Maybe the waiting isn't wasted.

Maybe the stillness is part of the victory.

And maybe, just maybe, God is teaching me how to be quiet enough to hear Him move. and to praise Him in those moments of silence.


And as I sat with all this another song came on out of nowhere:

"What I needed" by Chandler Moore.

And I'm not gonna lie, it felt like God saying:


"This is exactly where I meet you. In the wait. In the uncertainty. In the quiet. In the tension. In the places you can't explain and don't know how to explain."


Sometimes the right song shows up before the answers do.

And sometimes that's how God reminds you, you're not waiting alone.


Maybe that's why the stillness feels sacred. Because even when nothing looks like it's moving, God is still giving you what you need...right when you need it.


With Love, T.




 
 
 

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