Those who know me can testify that I am not a person of many words. I love gathering with a few close girlfriends over lunch or dinner, listening as they share about their lives—content to stay in the background as a quiet listener. I doubt many of my friends know the story I’m about to share, one that happened to me many years ago.

During one of my routine prenatal check-ups, my gynecologist informed me there was a 1 in 80 chance my daughter could have Down syndrome. As I held the report with trembling hands, I numbly nodded while she scheduled an amniocentesis—a test I barely registered. My doctor remained professional—calm, precise—while inside, I was unraveling. On the outside, I forced composure, but the moment I reached home, I ran to my bedroom, collapsed beside my bed, and finally released the storm of emotions I’d bottled up. Bitter tears poured out as I wept until my body ran dry of tears.

Then came the agonizing six-week wait for results (this was twenty years ago, when testing took longer). Those forty-two days became my first real lesson in waiting on God. At first, my prayers were desperate mantras: ‘Please let my baby be healthy. Just give me a normal child.’ Day after day, this self-focused pleading continued—until something shifted. Without realizing it, my cries of ‘Fix this for me’ softened into ‘Your will for us.’ Where I had been clinging to emotional shreds of hope while paralyzed by fear, I began sensing something new after each prayer: a lingering presence settling in my spirit, leaving strength where there had been weakness, peace where there had been terror. When the day came to call my gynecologist for the test results, I couldn’t sit still. Standing and trembling like a leaf, I clutched the phone receiver, white-knuckled, while waiting for her verdict. When she finally said, ‘Your baby is completely healthy,’ my legs gave way and I crumpled to the floor in overwhelming relief. Tears of gratitude streamed uncontrollably down my cheeks. I rushed to my husband’s side and shared the wonderful news. Today, our daughter is a healthy, beautiful twenty-four-year-old woman. Even as I write these words and share this experience with you, I can still picture myself coming before the Lord daily to spend time with Him. This daily drawing near to God has become more than habit – it has transformed my seeking into abiding.

“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength” (Isaiah 40:31).

I’ve noticed that patience seems to be a rare quality these days. Many of us have constant access to information. We’ve become so used to getting answers instantly that waiting feels almost unbearable. Whether it is because of advances in technology, or a decline in our attention span, the rush to get results has reached an almost breakneck pace. In a world that prizes speed and self-effort, waiting on God is countercultural–yet it’s where true strength is found.

During those forty-two days of seeking the Lord, I learned to trust in His mercy and kindness. The Lord tenderly rewrote the narrative of my heart. No longer was I a trembling petitioner clutching at my own understanding, but a child learning to rest in the Father’s sovereign love. He fortified my spirit to receive any outcome—even a Down syndrome diagnosis—not with resignation, but with resurrection hope. The ‘what if‘ that once terrified me became a sacred ‘even if‘ I could whisper with trust. This was no easy lesson for any expectant mother to learn. Yet God used it to grow spiritual muscle within me – teaching me to wait in surrender, relinquishing control to His sovereignty, and proving His faithfulness even when my flesh was weak.

Beloved, are you waiting for God to answer your desperate prayers? Have you come before Him with fear and trembling, only to be met with silence? My words here may offer little comfort—I cannot feel the depth of your pain, your suffering, or your unrest. But God does. Yet this I can declare with certainty: His delays are not denials. I have witnessed His faithfulness. Waiting shatters self-sufficiency and draws us into deeper intimacy with Him. The wilderness of waiting is where God does His most sacred work—preparing you for what lies ahead while teaching you to trust Him completely. So hold fast, dear one. “The One who called you is faithful, and He will surely bring His promise to pass” (1 Thessalonians 5:24). As we close this devotional, let us remember the final words of Polycarp, bishop of Smyrna – one of countless believers arrested for their faith and martyred for Christ.

‘For eighty and six years I have been his servant, and he has done me no wrong. How can I now blaspheme my king who saved me?’