When I first moved to the slow pace of Tennessee, I missed the hustle of city living! After years of running, it seemed that I was being called into a season of rest. But I did not want to rest. I was certain that there was real, hard work to be done. Rest is not something a runner wants to hear. Leaving the fast pace behind, I felt like I’d been benched, or worse, tripped in my lane while the rest of the “runners” went whizzing by. Even though the book of Isaiah sent a loud, clear message that God wanted to be gracious to me, to show me compassion, I wanted none of it.
Not repentance and rest, not quietness and trust—just let me run back to New York City! I thrashed against the work of God, clamoring to know the answers to my questions immediately. All I saw was scarcity. I wasn’t trusting God’s guiding or provision. I wanted to run back to what was familiar instead of opening my heart to a new city and new people.
One day, it hit me. I’d been holding onto the past, because that was all I could see. God gently prompted: You cannot see the unknown, until you release the known.
Yes. It takes patience and faith to wait upon him. We fear what we cannot see. In the moment, we offer clenched fists for any semblance of control in our lives, especially when life feels unpredictable or difficult. We want to be in charge, we want to call the shots. We want to know the purpose for everything, right now.
But when we choose to trust God, and rest in his timing and power, we find our peace and strength. His promise is clear—as we wait on him, we discover we are enriched. The waiting is for our salvation, for our good.
Rebekah Lyons is the author of You Are Free: Be Who You Already Are(Zondervan) and cofounder of Q Ideas. Learn more at RebekahLyons.com.
