Weary of Waiting: Finding Peace in God's PlanНамуна

By the time Sarah heard the promise again, she wasn’t full of faith. She was full of memories. Disappointment. Longing. And maybe a little disbelief.

Years had passed. Too many. Her body had aged beyond childbearing. Her hope had grown thin and brittle. And when the angels told her that by this time next year she would hold a son in her arms, she laughed.

Not out of joy. But out of defense. A quiet, hollow laugh that tried to cover the ache inside.

She wanted to believe. She had once believed. But now the waiting had gone on too long.

That place, where hope has grown quiet and dreams feel too fragile to touch, is familiar to many of us. It’s the space between what God has said and what we can actually see. Between promise and fulfillment. Calling and clarity. Desire and delivery.

But here’s what we learn from Sarah’s story: it was exactly in that space that grace showed up.

Not because she had finally believed enough. Not because she’d figured it all out. Not because she was ready. But simply because God is gracious.

And the delay? It wasn’t wasted. It was sacred.

If Sarah had become pregnant earlier, the birth might have seemed ordinary. But the longer the waiting stretched, the more impossible the promise became, and the more undeniable it was when God finally moved. Isaac wasn’t just a child. He was a miracle. A testimony. A living, breathing symbol of God’s power and faithfulness.

This is what grace does. It meets us in our weakness and creates something beautiful in its time.

So far in this journey, we’ve taken two important steps toward peace in God’s plan. First, we learned to Recognize the ache that rises when we feel left behind, the tension, the urgency, the quiet fear that God has passed us over. Then, we practiced Releasing our grip on the expectations and timelines we’ve built, offering them back to the God who holds time and eternity.

Now we come to the third step: Receive.

After recognizing the ache and releasing the pressure to control, we open our hands to receive what God is giving, even here, even now.

Not every gift looks like an answered prayer. Sometimes what we receive is the strength to endure. Sometimes it’s peace that doesn’t make sense. Sometimes it’s a deepening confidence that we are not forgotten, even if we can’t yet see the evidence.

To receive is to make room in our hearts, not just for what we want, but for whatever God wants to give.

It’s trusting that he’s working behind the scenes even when the scene we’re in looks unchanged. It’s believing that this slow stretch of time is not an interruption to your life; it’s part of it. And it’s reminding your heart, again and again, that grace is not waiting for you at the finish line. It’s right here in the middle of the unknown.

Ecclesiastes says, “God has made everything beautiful for its own time.” (NLT) Not our time. Not the time we would choose. But his time.

And that means you’re not late. You’re not forgotten. You’re not left behind.

Even if your hands feel empty, your heart can be full. Full of trust. Full of quiet joy. Full of the grace that only comes when you stop trying to earn it and start learning to receive.

So today, breathe deeply. Open your hands. And let grace come in.

Prayer: Father, I receive the grace you are offering me today, the grace to be here in this hard place. I believe you are enough. Help my remaining unbelief.

Thankfully, we don’t have to stay in life’s stuck places. Tomorrow, we’ll explore what it looks like to step forward in faith, even when the path feels slow and uncertain.