I got tired of waiting on God.
Not tired in a quiet, patient way.
Tired in the way that makes you take control of your own life.
So I made a decision that God was not in.
I entered a marriage He never ordained.
At the time it felt like relief from the waiting. It felt like movement. It felt like finally doing something instead of sitting still.
But what God has not built will eventually collapse.
That marriage ended in divorce.
And divorce, even when it is necessary, is painful. There is loss. There is grief. There are wounds that take time for God to heal.
Walking through that gave me a perspective I did not have before. Scripture says God hates divorce, and for a long time I misunderstood that.
Now I understand more clearly.
God doesn’t hate people who have been divorced.
He hates the destruction it causes.
He hates the tearing apart of something meant to be whole.
He hates the pain His children carry because of it.
And yet, even in that pain, He met me with mercy.
Which is why I see waiting very differently now.
And instead of discarding me in my mistake, He began restoring me.
Which brings me back to waiting.
Because this season of my life now looks very different.
It’s quieter.
It’s slower.
But it’s deeper.
The Lord is restoring my soul.
He’s healing my nervous system.
He’s slowing my reactions.
He’s teaching me how to keep my mind stayed on Him instead of cycling through anxiety.
Isaiah says,
“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on You.”
Stayed.
That word implies intention. Returning. Anchoring.
Peace is not accidental.
It’s cultivated.
In the gym, consistency builds strength. You don’t see transformation from one intense workout. You see it from steady repetition. From showing up when you don’t feel like it. From resting when your body needs repair.
Spiritually, it’s the same.
You don’t build deep peace from one encounter with God. You build it by returning your mind to Him again and again. By opening Scripture when your thoughts want distraction. By praying when nothing feels dramatic.
Consistency in the quiet builds capacity.
And waiting exposes whether we are willing to stay consistent when there is no visible reward yet.
But Scripture also gives us this promise:
“Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength.”
Not lose it.
Renew it.
Waiting with God does not weaken you. It rebuilds you.
Like muscles recovering after strain, strength begins forming where weakness once lived.
I can feel that happening in me.
My reactions are softer.
My thoughts are steadier.
My soul feels more anchored.
That doesn’t mean I’ve mastered this.
It means I’m staying.
When anxiety rises, I turn my mind back to Jesus.
When striving creeps in, I pause.
When I feel the urge to rush the process again, I remember where that road once led me.
Waiting has weight.
But it’s the kind of weight that builds endurance.
And endurance is what sustains the promises we pray for.
If you are in a waiting season right now, don’t rush past it.
Don’t despise the recovery.
Let God rebuild what striving wore down.
Let Him restore what pain strained.
The Good Shepherd knows when His sheep need to lie down.
And if He is making you lie down in this season, it is not rejection.
It is restoration.
Turn toward Jesus in the waiting.
Not just for the promise.
But for Him.
Because sometimes the greatest miracle in the waiting season is not the outcome we hoped for.
It’s the strength God rebuilds within us.
– Stacy Irene