What If the Waiting Is the Blessing?

I’ve been struggling with this deep ache lately. The kind of ache that’s not loud or dramatic, just this steady undercurrent that follows me through the day. It’s the ache of feeling alone, even when I know I’m not abandoned. Of watching other people walk into their answered prayers while mine still feel stuck in the “not yet.” Of doing everything I can to be faithful, and still feeling like I’m waiting in the dark for something that might never come.

It’s not always sadness. Sometimes it shows up as bitterness. As that soft, guilty voice that whispers, You shouldn’t be comparing your life to theirs, but look at them. Look at what they have. Sometimes it’s envy I don’t want to admit to. Sometimes it’s just exhaustion. Of holding on, of staying open, of hoping for something that hasn’t happened yet.

And if I’m being honest, I’ve been praying with one hand open and the other holding tightly to my idea of how things should go. I’ve been saying I trust God while still handing Him a list of specifics. Like, Here’s what I want. Here’s how I’d like it delivered. Please and thank You. And when it doesn’t happen on my timeline, or when it looks like everyone else’s prayers are being answered, I start to spiral.
What am I doing wrong? Am I being overlooked? Am I not praying hard enough? Am I not enough?

But the other night, something shifted.

I was praying—tired, emotional, halfway angry—and I caught myself asking God to give me what I thought I needed. Not just in love, but in life. In my career. In my finances. In every area I feel behind or unseen. I was pleading for the things I thought would fix it. But as the words came out, they started to feel... wrong. Too small. Too self-focused. Too based in fear. So I stopped, sat still for a moment, and whispered something that surprised me.

God, give me what You know I need.
Not what I think will make me feel whole.
Not what looks good on the outside.
Not what I’m only asking for because I’m scared to be empty-handed.
Give me what You—my Creator, my Father, the One who knows my heart better than I do—know I actually need.

And it was like my whole body exhaled.

Because the truth is, I don’t want to rush into anything that looks like a blessing but isn’t rooted in Him. I don’t want to settle for something that makes sense right now but breaks me later. And I don’t want to keep begging God to give me things that His mercy is already protecting me from.

I think sometimes we forget that unanswered prayers are still acts of love. That waiting is not passive. It’s protection.

Scripture says, “The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the soul who seeks Him.” (Lamentations 3:25).
It says, “No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.” (Psalm 84:11).
And one of my favorites lately: “Blessed are all who wait for Him.” (Isaiah 30:18).

That word—blessed—hit me differently this week. Because it doesn’t say, blessed are those who get what they want. It says, blessed are those who wait.
That means the waiting isn’t a punishment.
It’s a blessing.
It’s the thing keeping you out of what the enemy would love to drag you into.
It’s the thing building your discernment, your roots, your faith muscles.
It’s not that God is withholding something good—He’s withholding something not good enough.

And I know it doesn’t always feel like a gift. Some days it feels like a punishment for doing everything right. Some days it feels like rejection. But the more I bring it to Jesus, the more I hear Him reminding me: You are not behind. You are being held.

So I’m trying to stop praying for what I think I need.
I’m trying to stop praying for things just because I see other people receiving them.
I’m asking instead, God, give me what You know I need.
Even if it’s different than what I asked for.
Even if it comes slower.
Even if it stretches me in ways I didn’t see coming.

Because I would rather be in a holy delay than an unholy rush.
I would rather be held in God’s timing than pushed into something that only looks good on the outside.
I would rather be lonely for a while than end up somewhere the enemy designed to look like everything I wanted.

So if you’re in this with me—if you feel the ache of waiting, the tension of comparison, the sadness that feels selfish even though it’s real—I want you to know this:

Your waiting is not wasted.
Your surrender is not weakness.
Your loneliness is not proof that God forgot about you.

Maybe, just maybe, your waiting is the blessing.

And maybe the fact that God is still holding you here means He is loving you more than you even realize.