The Illusion of Waiting
There’s a subtle way we convince ourselves that waiting automatically equals wisdom. It feels responsible. Mature. Safe. We tell ourselves that if we just hold off a little longer, we’ll be more prepared, more confident, more spiritually grounded. We imagine that time will shape us into the kind of person who finally feels “ready” to do the thing that’s been sitting in our spirit for months—or years.
But when you look closely at that mindset, it becomes harder to ignore how much of it is rooted in fear rather than discernment. We create reasons to delay—reasons that sound spiritual, but often function as comfortable barriers between us and obedience. We keep telling ourselves we’re waiting for clarity, when in reality we’re waiting to feel flawless. We want the feeling of certainty more than we want the act of following God.
The mind is very good at disguising hesitation as strategy. It gives our reluctance softer language. It makes delay look thoughtful, even wise, when nothing about it actually brings us peace. And beneath it all is a truth we don’t like to admit: so many of the “not yet” moments in our lives have nothing to do with God’s timing, and everything to do with our desire to maintain control over how things unfold.
This is where the real tension rests. We assume the future will make us braver. We assume “later” will give us a cleaner path. We assume we’ll feel holier, steadier, or more spiritually polished if we just give ourselves more time. But that assumption is the illusion, because the version of ourselves we’re waiting to become rarely shows up. Not because we don’t grow, but because the standard we’re aiming for doesn’t exist. We’re chasing a version of readiness that God never asked us to meet.
And so we wait.
And wait.
And justify the waiting as faith or patience or wisdom, even though it doesn’t feel like any of those things. It feels heavy. It feels frustrating. It feels like something in us is being held back, not held together.
If we paused long enough to actually listen, we’d notice something: God rarely convicts us to delay what He has already equipped us to begin. That nudge in your spirit—that quiet pull forward—that uncomfortable but persistent feeling that something needs to shift? That is often the very sign you keep telling yourself you’re waiting for. The prompting is already there. The leading is already there. The grace is already there. What’s missing isn’t preparation; it’s permission. And not permission from God—permission from yourself.
So the real question becomes:
If God isn’t asking you to hold back, what exactly are you waiting on?
Because there is a difference between God-appointed stillness and self-imposed delay. One protects you. The other restricts you. One aligns you with God. The other aligns you with your fears. And until we can tell the difference, we will continue to label hesitation as “wisdom,” and we’ll miss the very moments God intended us to walk into—not eventually, but now.
And to be clear: this isn’t an encouragement to rush into things recklessly or without thought. It’s simply an invitation to examine whether your waiting is truly obedience… or just fear wearing a responsible face. Sometimes “I’m waiting on God” really means “I’m afraid to start while I still feel unfinished.”
But that’s the point: you will begin imperfect. You’ll still have questions. You’ll still feel unsure. You’ll still wonder if you’re doing things “right.” And you will—without a doubt—lean on grace more than you lean on your own preparation. That’s not a flaw. That’s the design. That is how faith works.
And when we finally accept this, the illusion of waiting loses its power. It stops dictating the pace of our lives. It stops holding us back from what God has already placed in front of us. And movement—however imperfect, however unsure, and always dependent on grace—becomes possible.
Talk soon, xoxo <3