Weary of Waiting: Finding Peace in God's PlanSample

Trusting God always involves risk.

Not because God’s unfaithful, but because it means releasing our grip on what we can measure and control, and stepping into a mystery we can’t manage.

Sarah knew this tension well.

She had believed. Then doubted. Tried to fix it herself. Then regretted the mess that followed.

And still, God didn’t walk away.

He returned, re-spoke the promise, and invited her to believe again. And when the time came, Sarah, worn out, unsure, perhaps still uncertain, received what had been promised. Not because she had perfectly navigated the waiting, but because she chose to risk trusting God again.

This is what we’re learning to do too.

We’ve been walking a five-step journey toward peace in God’s plan. And so far, we’ve taken three gentle but courageous steps.

First, we learned to Recognize the ache. Instead of running from it or numbing it, we paused and noticed the places where urgency and comparison crept in and whispered, “You’re falling behind.”

Next, we Released the false timelines and self-imposed pressure to make things happen in our own strength. We opened our hands. Loosened our grip. Let go of outcomes that were never ours to carry.

Then, we stepped into Receiving. Instead of waiting for everything to come together, we began to receive God’s grace right here, in the middle of the questions, in the quiet gap between the promise and the fulfillment.

And now, we come to the fourth step: Risk.

This isn’t a one-time act of bravery. It’s not a finish line. It’s a rhythm, a movement we might repeat several times a month, or several times a day. And that’s a good thing.

Because risk, in the life of faith, means returning.

Returning to the choice to trust. Returning to the belief that God is good, even when life feels slow. Returning to the quiet confidence that we’re not forgotten, even when progress isn’t visible.

It’s risky to stay open in the waiting. To pray again when you haven’t seen answers. To celebrate someone else’s breakthrough without bitterness. To stop striving and still believe you’re moving forward.

But these small, sacred risks are the building blocks of deep trust.

And they often don’t look like progress. They look like stillness. Like honesty. Like choosing to show up before you feel ready. Like asking again, “Lord, what does faith look like here?”

That question, asked not once, but over and over, forms us. Because each time we return to God in the tension, he meets us there. He isn’t disappointed that we’re back at square one. He delights in our returning.

The life of faith isn’t about never wavering. It’s about coming back. Again and again, until trust becomes our default posture, even in the waiting.

So today, as you notice the ache rising again, or the fear, or the comparison, pause. Ask the question. Take the risk.

And trust that even here, God is gently, faithfully forming you.

Prayer: Jesus, give me courage to trust you again in this place. Let my quiet steps of faith speak louder than my fear.

Tomorrow is the final step, and it’s the one your soul has been longing for. Let’s talk about the sacred art of rest, even when we are weary of waiting.