Trusting God in the waiting

By the time you read this, 2026 will be in full swing, and we’ll all be chipping away at our New Year’s resolutions. Here in London, gyms will be busy and pubs quiet as plans to get fit and promises of Dry January take hold. But wherever you are, I imagine we’re all hoping for new rhythms that keep us rooted in Jesus and living fully alive in this world.

As I write, though, 2026 is still a while away. We’re on the cusp of Advent, a season of waiting – waiting to celebrate the birth of Jesus and waiting in hope for his promised return.

And in between the two?

Well, we wait.

What happens in the waiting

I’ve never been a fan of waiting. I’m a doer and a planner, eager for the next thing. Yet, as I’ve journeyed with Jesus, I’ve learned that the deepest work in me often happens in the in-between, not on the mountaintop or in the miraculous answer to prayer, but in the waiting. 

It’s in the waiting, wrestling and surrendering that I learn to trust God – not merely as the one who answers prayers, but the one who is actively at work in my life, forming me into who I’m created to be: rooted in Christ and alive in him.

Over time, I’ve realised that godly waiting isn’t passive. It’s an active attentiveness to God’s presence, seeking him in all of life and being alert to his movement. To do this well, I’m learning to slow down, create space for silence, read scripture, practise Sabbath, incorporate fasting and pray throughout my day – on the Tube, while cooking dinner, in a meeting at work. The invitation to wait on God doesn’t ask us to stop living; it asks us to pay attention to his presence, already all around us. He is always near, always turning toward us, but we’re often too busy to notice.

I’m also realising the harder part of waiting is laying down my own wishes, my own attempts to control the future. These desires aren’t bad in themselves, but they can limit my openness to God’s plan and, when unfulfilled, often lead to disappointment or despair. Hope, however, is open-ended trust that God’s promises will be fulfilled in his way and time. 

Waiting well requires laying down my wishes before him and surrendering to God’s will, confident that something good is unfolding even when I can’t yet see it.

Godly waiting isn’t passive. It’s an active attentiveness to God’s presence

Taking my spiritual formation seriously means embracing the work God is doing in me during the wait. And the reality is, it’s hard. It’s hard not to fixate on unanswered prayers or longings unmet. Hard to loosen my grip on control, even when that control is an illusion. Hard to believe God is still working when my life doesn’t look like his promises. But thousands of years of faith remind us that following Jesus is both hard and beautifully rewarding. And over time, as God forms me in the way of Jesus, my prayers shift from a list of wishes to a deep desire to trust him completely, even in the mystery of the in-between.

In scripture, waiting is an active expression of faith and trust in God. Those who wait well, wait with hope, with complete trust that God is at work in their lives. It’s in this slow process of formation and surrender that we come fully alive. In the waiting, we are refined to trust, recalibrated to hope and renewed in faith.

This kind of waiting is deeply countercultural, especially in the West, where impatience is normal, control feels essential and uncertainty is something to escape. Yet through the way of Jesus, there’s an invitation to lean into the discomfort, to break free from hurry and cultivate rhythms that slow us down to be present before God. To see all of life as prayer: finding him not only in Sunday worship or quiet retreats, but in nappy changes, train delays, walks in the park and shared meals with friends.

Thousands of years of faith remind us that following Jesus is both hard and beautifully rewarding

I’m learning that noticing God’s presence right where I am is most transformational in the waiting, in the ordinary, unseen moments of life. Waiting with hope looks like laying down my wishes and trusting that something good is unfolding even if I can’t yet see it.

What’s my New Year’s resolution this year?

To learn how to wait a little better.

Not as someone who’s seen every prayer answered, but as someone still waiting on God to move in big and precious ways, still learning to lay down my wishes and trust my good and faithful Father. I say this as one who has felt heartbreak in the waiting and still believes in the hope of Jesus and the promise of redemption.

Waiting well means staying in step with the Spirit through rhythms that keep me attentive to God’s presence and shape me into Christlikeness. For me right now, that looks like beginning the day with a few minutes of silence, ending it with an examen prayer (‘prayerful reflection on the events of the day’) and moving slowly enough to notice God in the ordinary moments between. Throughout the day, I pray short breath prayers that help me abide rather than strive, remaining attuned to God’s presence in the everyday.

As you begin a new year, perhaps your first spiritual practice isn’t doing more, but breathing more deeply with God. Breath prayer is one of the oldest and simplest forms of Christian prayer – a few words prayed in rhythm with your breathing. The goal isn’t to say more to God but to rest more deeply in his presence.

Here’s one that’s helping me wait well:

Inhale: “I trust You, Lord.”

Exhale: “Even in the waiting.”

Perhaps this is where the year begins – in the quiet work of waiting with God. Trusting that even here, he is weaving a redemption story for our good and his glory.