I’ve never been known for my patience. If I’m being honest, patience has always felt like something I admire in other people more than something I naturally practice myself.
I like answers. I like progress. I like it now. There’s something about forward movement that feels reassuring, like proof that things are working and that I’m not stuck in one place for too long.
Years ago, I planted tomato seeds, did everything right… and then had to wait. I followed the instructions carefully, made sure the soil was right, watered them the way I was supposed to, and placed them where they would get enough sunlight. I truly believed I had done my part perfectly.
After a few days of seeing nothing, I got curious. The soil looked exactly the same as it had the day I planted the seeds, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe something had gone wrong.
So I dug them up.
Just to check. I told myself it was harmless, that I was simply making sure everything was okay beneath the surface. Surely one quick look wouldn’t hurt anything.
I covered them back up, waited… and dug them up again. I convinced myself I just needed reassurance. Maybe this time I would see a tiny sprout or some sign that growth had begun.
And again.
Those poor plants never made it—not because nothing was happening, but because I wouldn’t let what was happening keep happening. Growth was likely beginning in ways I couldn’t yet see, but my impatience kept interrupting the process.
Looking back, it feels almost silly. But if I’m honest, it’s also deeply familiar.
Don’t we do this with God?
We pray… but somewhere along the way, our prayers turn into instructions. At first, our prayers are open-handed. We bring our needs, our hopes, our fears, and we lay them before Him. But slowly, almost without realizing it, we begin to add our own expectations to the conversation.
“God, here’s what I need—and here’s how You should do it.”
We don’t always say it that directly, but it shows up in the way we wait. It shows up in the timelines we expect, the outcomes we imagine, and the way we measure whether or not something is working.
And when it doesn’t happen that way, it can feel like He isn’t listening. It can feel like silence, like distance, like unanswered prayers floating somewhere between heaven and earth.
But here’s the truth:
God always listens to our prayers… but He doesn’t always follow our instructions.
That realization can be both comforting and challenging. Comforting, because it means we are heard. Challenging, because it reminds us that we are not in control.
He Hears You
Not one prayer has been ignored. Not one tear has gone unnoticed. Not one whispered cry has fallen on deaf ears.
Even in the moments when you feel like nothing is happening, God is attentive. He is present. He is listening in ways that go beyond what we can see or understand.
He responds from His wisdom—not our timeline.
And that’s where the tension often lives. Because if we’re honest, we don’t just want answers—we want them quickly. We want clarity now, resolution now, relief now. Waiting can feel uncomfortable, especially when we’re carrying something heavy.
But God’s wisdom is not rushed. It is steady, intentional, and rooted in a perspective that sees far beyond the moment we are standing in.
Sometimes His response looks different than what we expected. Sometimes it unfolds more slowly than we would like. And sometimes it leads us down a path we never would have chosen ourselves.
But none of that means He isn’t working.
Just Because You Don’t See It…
Seeds grow underground. Long before anything breaks through the surface, something important is happening in the hidden places. Roots are forming. Foundations are being built.
Life is developing in ways that are invisible at first.
And sometimes our need to control keeps us anxious…
We keep checking. We keep questioning. We keep wondering if something has gone wrong. We try to measure progress based on what we can see, and when we don’t see anything, we assume nothing is happening.
But God is still working beneath the surface.
Silence doesn’t mean absence. It doesn’t mean He has stepped away or forgotten about you. It simply means that His work may be unfolding in ways that are not immediately visible.
A different answer doesn’t mean no answer. Sometimes what feels like a delay is actually direction. Sometimes what feels like a closed door is protection. And sometimes what feels like silence is an invitation to trust more deeply.
There is so much happening that we cannot see. And if we interrupt the process too soon—if we “dig things up” before their time—we can disrupt the very growth we’re hoping for.
Learning to Trust the Process
Trusting God in the waiting is not always easy. It requires surrendering the need to control outcomes and letting go of the timelines we’ve created in our own minds.
It means choosing to believe that something good is happening, even when there is no visible evidence yet.
I’ve had seasons where I’ve prayed the same prayer over and over, wondering if I needed to say it differently or do something more to get a response. I’ve had moments where I questioned whether I had missed something or somehow delayed the answer myself.
But over time, I’ve begun to understand that God is not waiting for me to perform perfectly. He is not responding based on how well I manage the process. He is working according to His plan, His timing, and His perfect understanding of what I truly need.
And that has slowly changed the way I wait.
What Do We Do?
Trust: He sees what you can’t. There is comfort in knowing that God’s perspective is not limited like ours. He sees the full picture—the beginning, the middle, and the end. Even when we feel uncertain, He is not.
Trusting Him doesn’t mean we have all the answers. It means we believe He does.
Wait: It’s preparation, not punishment. Waiting can feel like a pause, like nothing is happening. But often, waiting is where the most important work is being done. It’s where our hearts are shaped, our faith is strengthened, and our perspective begins to shift.
Waiting is not wasted time. It is purposeful, even when it feels slow.
Rest: You don’t have to carry what isn’t yours. So often, we exhaust ourselves trying to figure everything out, fix everything, and force things to happen. But not everything is ours to carry.
Resting doesn’t mean we stop caring. It means we release the weight of what we were never meant to control.
When You’re Tempted to “Dig Things Up”
If you’re in a quiet season and tempted to “dig things up”…
Take a breath. Pause before you react. Notice the urge to fix, to check, to control—and gently let it go.
You are heard. Even if you haven’t seen the answer yet, your prayers have not been ignored.
You are seen. Your situation is not overlooked or forgotten.
God is working. Even now, beneath the surface, in ways you may not recognize yet.
And He’s not limited to your instructions—which is actually really good news. Because His plans are better than anything we could script on our own. His timing is wiser than our urgency. And His understanding is deeper than our perspective.
Choosing a Different Approach
This month, let’s choose something different. Let’s step away from the constant need to check and control, and instead lean into trust and surrender.
Let’s choose to trust His wisdom, even when it doesn’t match our expectations.
Let’s choose to wait without forcing outcomes, believing that what is meant to grow will grow in its time.
Let’s choose to rest in His care, knowing that we are not responsible for making everything happen.
Waiting is not easy, but it can be meaningful. It can be a space where our faith deepens, and our trust grows stronger.
And maybe, just maybe, it’s also a place where we learn to stop digging things up… and start believing that something beautiful is already taking root.
With you in the waiting (and learning not to dig things up).
