Tag: strengthening

The Courage of Waiting

The Courage of Waiting

There is a particular kind of courage that doesn’t roar. It doesn’t charge into battle with a war cry or leap from a precipice to save a life. It’s a quieter, more profound kind of strength, born not of action but of stillness. It is the courage of waiting.

This is a quiet, resilient fortitude that the ancient songbook of faith, the Psalms, explores with remarkable clarity. Across its verses, we find a consistent message: true courage is not the absence of fear, but the presence of an unshakeable trust in a higher power. It’s a strength born not from our own will, but from a divine source that acts as both our light and our stronghold. Consider these three passages that connect courage directly to our relationship with God:

  • Psalm 27:1: “The Lord is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—of whom shall I be afraid?”
  • Psalm 27:14: “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”
  • Psalm 31:24: “Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.”

Our journey begins with the words of King David, a man who knew a great deal about facing down giants—both literal and figurative. He confronted giant adversaries, endured the relentless pursuit of an envious king, and even suffered the deep wound of betrayal from his own son. Yet, in the face of such turmoil, he makes an incredible, faith-reorienting declaration. This is not a flippant or dismissive rhetorical question. It is a statement of faith that completely reorients a person’s world. David isn’t claiming to have no reason to be afraid; rather, he is choosing to center his identity and security not on his own strength or the absence of danger, but on God. The world may be full of things that inspire fear, but for David, the Lord is a “light” that exposes the darkness and a “stronghold” that offers unshakeable protection. His courage, therefore, isn’t the absence of fear, but the presence of faith. He has an anchor that holds firm no matter how turbulent the sea. This challenges us to ask a fundamental question: who or what is the stronghold of our lives? When we place our trust in anything less than God—our career success, our financial stability, our physical health, or the fleeting approval of others—our courage will inevitably falter. For these are all things that can and will fail us. But the courage that stems from a foundation in God is one that cannot be shaken.

The next theme we will explore is the profound and powerful command to persevere in the very act of waiting. In our modern, fast-paced world, the very concept of waiting feels like a weakness. We are conditioned to seek immediate solutions, instant answers, and quick fixes. The advent of instant communication, next-day delivery, and on-demand streaming has trained us to believe that waiting is an inconvenience, a failure of efficiency. But the psalmist tells us that true courage is found not in the haste of action, but in the profound discipline of waiting on God. To “wait for the Lord” is not to sit idly by in passive resignation. It is a deliberate, active, and expectant posture of hope. It is a deep-seated conviction that says, “I may not see the way forward, the path may be obscured by shadow and uncertainty, but I will trust the one who does. I will be strong and courageous in this present moment, even as I wait for his perfect timing.” This kind of courage is not flashy. It is a quiet, resilient strength that endures through seasons of silence and uncertainty, much like a plant waiting for the right season to bloom or an athlete training for years for a single moment of triumph. It is the resolve to keep your hands open and your heart attentive, even when nothing appears to be happening. This is where the deepest, most enduring kind of courage is forged—in the crucible of patience. It is the courage to not force a timeline, to not rush an answer, but to trust that the one who holds all time in His hands is working on our behalf, even when we cannot perceive it.

Finally, we turn to the conclusion that echoes the theme of hope, but with a new and vital dimension. This verse is a final, resounding call to action. It is not just a personal encouragement, but a collective one, addressed to “all you who hope in the Lord.” It reminds us that our faith journey is not a solitary one. When we feel overwhelmed by the demands of waiting, we can and should draw strength and courage from one another, from the community of faith that shares the same profound hope. Our courage isn’t a solitary act of will; it is a communal practice. In the same way that a team of mountain climbers shares the weight of their gear and encourages each other to keep going, so too do we share the burden of our fears and celebrate the small victories of hope. The courage to wait is fortified by the knowledge that we are not alone. It is a shared journey, and our hope isn’t in our own ability to be strong, but in the steadfast character of God himself. The more we hope in Him, the more our hearts are filled with the courage we need to face whatever comes our way.

The courage of waiting is a tapestry woven from these three threads: the unshakeable foundation of faith in God as our stronghold, the active discipline of patient endurance, and the collective strength found in a community of shared hope. It is the courage to stand in the face of the unknown, not because we are fearless, but because we know the one who holds all things together. It is a courage that is forged in the silent moments of trusting, in the difficult moments of hoping, and in the shared moments of encouragement. And in a world that rushes toward the next thing, the quiet, powerful act of waiting is perhaps the most courageous act of all.

Remember

Remember

When challenges mount and fears loom large in the whirlwind of life, it’s easy to feel adrift, as if we’re facing insurmountable odds alone. The weight of present troubles can obscure our vision, making us forget the very source of our strength and hope. Yet, the ancient words of King David in Psalm 27:1-6 offer a profound antidote to this despair: “Remember.”

David, a man intimately acquainted with adversity – from facing giants and fleeing a jealous king to enduring betrayal and war – begins this psalm not with a lament, but with a resounding declaration of confidence: “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 27:1). This isn’t a naive optimism, but a battle-tested faith rooted in memory.

David’s confidence isn’t abstract; it’s grounded in his past experiences. He recalls, “When evildoers came against me to devour my flesh, my foes and my enemies stumbled and fell” (Psalm 27:2). He had seen God’s hand move, time and again, turning the tide against seemingly overwhelming forces. It’s in these moments of divine intervention, these countless deliverances from troubles that seemed impossible to overcome, that we find a powerful testament to God’s existence and His active interaction in our lives.

Think about it: can any person truly navigate the “numerous obstacles” of life – the unexpected illnesses, the crushing losses, the sudden betrayals, the financial ruin – without some form of support? While human support is vital, there are moments when only a divine hand can provide the light in the deepest darkness, the salvation from utter despair, and the stronghold against forces that would otherwise consume us. When we look back at our own lives, at the times we somehow made it through, when a door opened unexpectedly, when peace settled in the midst of chaos, or when strength appeared from nowhere, we are witnessing God’s faithfulness. These are not mere coincidences; they are echoes of His promise, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

David’s life was a tapestry woven with such divine interventions. Before he ever wore a crown, as a young shepherd boy, he faced beasts that threatened his flock. He didn’t just survive; he conquered. He remembered how God enabled him to rescue his lambs from the jaws of a lion and a bear (1 Samuel 17:34-37). These weren’t minor skirmishes; they were life-or-death struggles where a shepherd boy, armed with only a staff and sling, triumphed over formidable predators.

And then came the ultimate test: Goliath, the Philistine giant, defying the armies of Israel. While seasoned warriors trembled, young David, fueled by the memory of God’s past faithfulness, stepped forward. He declared, “The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and from the paw of the bear will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine” (1 Samuel 17:37). His victory over Goliath was not merely a physical feat; it was a profound act of faith, born from a deep well of remembered deliverances.

David’s reflection in Psalm 27 was likely not about one isolated occurrence, but about journeying through the halls of his memory, recalling each instance of God’s powerful intervention. This process wasn’t just nostalgic; it was an act of worship. Each recalled victory became a fresh reason to honor God with praise, solidifying his confidence that the God who had been faithful in the past would surely be faithful in the present and future. This constant act of remembering and praising transformed his past struggles into pillars of present strength, allowing him to declare with conviction, “Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear; though war rise up against me, yet I will be confident” (Psalm 27:3).

This divine support is not just about external rescue; it’s also about internal transformation. The Apostle Paul reminds us in 2 Timothy 1:7, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” This verse beautifully complements David’s fearless stance. When we remember God’s faithfulness, we are empowered to overcome the spirit of fear that seeks to paralyze us. We receive a spirit of power, enabling us to face challenges with courage; a spirit of love, allowing us to respond with compassion even in difficult circumstances; and a sound mind, granting us clarity and wisdom when confusion reigns. This inner fortitude is itself a profound deliverance, a testament to God’s ongoing work within us.

It’s tempting to wish away our troubles, to pray for their immediate removal. But some of life’s most profound growth happens not by avoiding the storm, but by learning to lean into it, trusting that God is present and purposeful in the midst of it. David’s psalm isn’t just about escaping trouble; it is about finding God in trouble. His “one thing” was not freedom from enemies, but to “dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and to inquire in his temple” (Psalm 27:4). He sought intimacy with God despite the surrounding chaos.

When we choose to lean into our trials, when we consciously seek God’s presence and wisdom within the difficulty, we allow Him to refine us. It’s in the crucible of adversity that our faith is tested and strengthened, like gold purified by fire.We learn resilience, patience, and a deeper reliance on God than we ever thought possible. The very things that threaten to break us can, with God’s divine support, become the tools He uses to build us into stronger, more compassionate, and more faithful individuals. We grow not just through the trials, but because of them, as God uses them to shape our character and deepen our understanding of His unwavering faithfulness.

So, when the “army” encamps against you, and “war rises up,” take a moment to pause. Remember. Remember the countless times God has been your light, your salvation, your stronghold. Remember the unseen hand that guided you, the peace that sustained you, the strength that appeared when you had none left. These memories are not just personal anecdotes; they are evidence of a living, interacting God.

Let the spirit of power, love, and a sound mind replace the spirit of fear. And as you lean into the present challenge, trust that the same God who delivered you before is actively working to grow you now. For in remembering His faithfulness, we find not just hope for today, but an unshakeable confidence for all our tomorrows.

Willful Faith

Willful Faith

Have you ever found yourself in a state where your emotions feel like a runaway train, and you’re merely a passenger, helpless to control its destructive course? Perhaps it’s anxiety gnawing at your peace, depression casting a long shadow over your days, or a general sense of discouragement that weighs heavily on your spirit. This universal cry of the downcast soul is precisely what the Psalmist captures in Psalm 42. It’s a raw, honest look into the heart of someone experiencing profound distress, not pretending or putting on a brave face, but grappling with a fundamental question. In Psalm 42:5 (NIV), we hear this poignant lament and a profound declaration: “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” This single verse presents an internal struggle, a willful act, and a confident expectation. It introduces us to the concept of “Willful Faith”—not blind optimism or a dismissal of pain, but an active, intentional decision to engage our faith in the midst of struggle, choosing to believe and hope even when it feels unnatural.

The problem, then, is the downcast soul itself. The Psalmist asks, “Why, my soul, are you downcast?” This speaks to a general sadness, a feeling of being weighed down, perhaps by unfulfilled desires, loss, or sheer weariness. But he goes deeper, asking, “Why so disturbed within me?” This implies an inner turmoil, a restless anxiety, an agitation that disrupts peace. It’s the internal wrestling match, a swirl of doubts and fears. It is crucial to recognize and honestly identify these feelings in our own lives, normalizing them as experiences even devout people face. The danger of remaining in this state unchecked is that it can lead to despair, paralysis, bitterness, or even the abandonment of faith. We risk being defined by our feelings rather than by our identity in Christ. The Psalmist, however, makes a crucial move: self-interrogation. He doesn’t merely wallow; he asks why. This active examination of the source of his despair, rather than letting it consume him, is the essential first step in active faith. It is a refusal to passively accept his emotional state.

This leads us to the principle: “Put your hope in God.” This is not a gentle suggestion but a direct command from the Psalmist to his own soul. Herein lies the essence of willful faith—an act of the will, not merely a fleeting emotion. The “hope” spoken of here is not wishful thinking; it is a confident expectation firmly rooted in God’s unchanging character and unfailing promises. It’s based on what God has done and what He will surely do. The object of our hope is critical: “in God.” Not in changing circumstances, not in our own limited strength, not in the fallibility of others, but in God alone. To “put your hope” involves active steps. It means recalling God’s character, reminding ourselves of who He is: faithful, loving, powerful, just, sovereign, and intimately present. It involves remembering God’s past faithfulness, looking back at how He has shown up for us or others in seemingly impossible situations. It means resting on God’s promises found in Scripture—His unwavering care for His children, His provision, and His ultimate victory (Philippians 4:6-7, Romans 8:28). This willful part of faith also requires engaging in spiritual disciplines: crying out to God in prayer, pouring out our hearts; choosing to worship Him even when we don’t feel like it, allowing praise to shift our perspective; immersing ourselves in Scripture, letting God’s word speak truth into our situations; and seeking godly counsel and encouragement within a faith community.

The beautiful outcome of this willful act is the promise: “I will yet praise him.” This is not a present reality for the downcast Psalmist, but a future certainty, born from his resolute decision to hope in God. The word “yet” is profoundly powerful; it signifies that despite the current struggle, there will be a time of praise. It is a statement of faith and defiance against despair. The foundation of this future praise is deeply personal: “My Savior and my God.” He grounds his coming praise in who God is to him. “My Savior” speaks of the one who delivers, redeems, and rescues, pointing ultimately to Jesus Christ as the supreme Savior. “My God” reveals a personal relationship; this is not an abstract deity, but the God who is intimately involved in his life. The fruit of such willful faith is multifaceted: joy can coexist with sorrow, for willful faith doesn’t erase pain, but it allows peace to permeate it. It provides perseverance, the strength to keep going when all we want to do is give up. It grants a renewed perspective, shifting our gaze from our overwhelming problems to the all-powerful Problem-Solver. Ultimately, the goal is not just to feel better, but to truly be able to praise God for His faithfulness, even for guiding us through the darkest valleys.

The journey from a downcast soul to putting hope in God inevitably leads to future praise. Embracing willful faith is a daily, often hourly, choice. It is a spiritual muscle that requires consistent exercise. Crucially, it’s not about mustering strength on our own, but about inviting the Holy Spirit to empower our will to hope in God. So, when your soul feels downcast and disturbed, dare to ask yourself the Psalmist’s question, and then, with intentionality, command your soul: “Put your hope in God!” He is unequivocally worthy of your willful faith. He is faithful, even when our feelings betray us. “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit” (Romans 15:13).

Just a Little While

Just a Little While

The human heart yearns for arrival. From the impatient child in the backseat, “Are we there yet?” to the adult wrestling with life’s profound challenges, the question echoes: “Lord, how long until my breakthrough? When will this season of waiting finally end?” This persistent inquiry is not a sign of weakness, but a testament to our innate desire for resolution, for the fulfillment of God’s promises in our lives. Yet, what if our “arrival” is not solely a matter of God’s timing, but also intimately connected to our posture in the pause? To uncover the profound purpose embedded within our periods of anticipation and trial, let’s turn to a passage of immense comfort and challenge: 1 Peter 5:6-11 (NIV). Peter, writing to believers undergoing severe persecution, offers not a quick escape, but a divine framework for flourishing within the furnace of affliction. He writes: “Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen.” This “suffering” Peter speaks of is not merely fleeting discomfort, but a comprehensive term for the trials, hardships, and pains that often accompany a life of faith. It’s the prolonged illness, the chronic financial strain, the fractured relationship, the seemingly unanswered prayer. Our deepest struggle isn’t always the presence of difficulty itself, but the agonizing duration of the wait for its resolution. Yet, within these verses, God Himself offers a transformative lens through which to view our “lingering hardships,” revealing their meaning, purpose, and most importantly, their divinely appointed end.

Peter doesn’t leave us languishing in our impatience; he provides a clear, actionable pathway to navigate the waiting room of life with grace and strength. The first, and perhaps most crucial, step is to humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand.” Humility, in this context, is not self-deprecation, but a profound acknowledgment of God’s absolute sovereignty and our complete dependence on Him. It means releasing our grip on control, relinquishing our prideful attempts to orchestrate our own breakthroughs. We often believe that if we just strategize harder, work longer, or worry more intensely, we can accelerate our arrival. But Peter reminds us that true elevation—”that he may lift you up”—comes in “due time,” God’s perfect time, not our own. This humbling posture leads directly to the second command: “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.” Our anxieties are often the direct result of our perceived lack of control. When we humbly acknowledge God’s “mighty hand” over every circumstance, we empower ourselves to genuinely lay down our burdens. The Greek word for “cast” here (epiriptó) implies a decisive, once-and-for-all throwing off. It’s not a polite handing over, but a forceful release. Why can we do this? Because He cares. This isn’t a passive interest; it’s an active, compassionate, fatherly concern that embraces every detail of our lives. When we fully grasp His care, the weight of waiting, though still present, becomes immeasurably lighter. We are suffering the wait, yes, but never without the intimate presence and unwavering support of the Almighty.

As we humble ourselves and cast our anxieties, Peter issues a vital warning: “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” Our periods of waiting and suffering are not merely passive experiences; they are battlegrounds. The adversary, ever vigilant, seeks to exploit our vulnerability, to plant seeds of doubt, despair, and discouragement. He wants us to believe God has forgotten us, that our faith is futile, that our suffering is pointless. Being “alert and of sober mind” means exercising spiritual discernment. It means guarding our thoughts, saturating ourselves with truth, and recognizing the enemy’s insidious tactics. How often do we see individuals, just on the cusp of a breakthrough, succumb to temptation or discouragement, thereby missing their divine appointment? Satan’s objective is to ensure we never arrive at God’s intended destiny. He seeks to derail us, to convince us that our purpose is unattainable. But Peter assures us that “resistance” is possible, by “standing firm in the faith,” and by remembering that our “family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings.” We are not alone in this fight; there is strength and solidarity in our shared journey.

This is where the true glory of the passage shines through, offering not just a promise, but a divine guarantee: “And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” The phrase “a little while” is crucial. In the context of eternity, even a lifetime of suffering is but a fleeting moment. God, who is “the God of all grace,” will not allow our suffering to be in vain. He is actively working within our waiting. This promise is rich with transformative verbs: He will restore what is broken, heal what is wounded, and bring back what was lost. He will make you strong as our weakness in suffering becomes the crucible for divine strength, forging resilience we could not have otherwise gained. He will make us firm, establishing us with a solid footing, ensuring our faith is unshakeable; the KJV’s “establish you” perfectly captures this sense of foundational stability. Finally, He will make us steadfast, resolute and unwavering, enabling us to stand firm against future trials. There is, indeed, a profound purpose in waiting. It is in the “agony of the wait” that our character is refined, our faith deepened, and our dependence on God solidified. The Lord, in His infinite wisdom, knows that if success comes too easily, without the crucible of patience and perseverance, we might not appreciate its value, nor possess the inner fortitude to sustain it. He desires for us not fleeting victories, but a “firm footing on life’s triumphs”—an enduring success built on a foundation of tested faith. So, the next time you find yourself asking, “Are we there yet, Lord?” take heart. You are not stuck; you are in a divine process. Humble yourself under His mighty hand, casting every anxiety upon Him because He deeply cares. Be vigilant against the enemy’s schemes, standing firm in the knowledge that you are part of a global family of faith. Trust that the “little while” of your suffering is a purposeful prelude to God’s glorious work of restoration, strengthening, firming, and establishing you. To Him be the power forever and ever. Amen.