when your progress feels invisible
The Inevitability of Waiting
So much of life is waiting.
Waiting for the test results to come in.
Waiting for the phone call.
Waiting in line for a tea latte.
Waiting at a red light.
Waiting on God to move in your situation.
Waiting for someone to text you back.
Waiting is something we often dread but can’t seem to avoid no matter how hard we may try. And when we think of waiting, we tend to think of it in negative terms. At least, I do.
The Oxford Dictionary defines waiting as “staying where one is or delaying action until a particular time or until something else happens.” And this is the way I tend to define waiting in my own life. I view waiting as more passive. I’m not doing anything; I’m just hanging around, hoping that things will change for the better. I am helpless in my story, and I can’t do anything to change the circumstances I find myself in. It’s like some sort of inescapable limbo, keeping me trapped.
However, another definition defines waiting as “remaining in readiness for some purpose.” This means that waiting isn’t only passivity, it’s also preparatory. It’s like a train idling at the train station as passengers board. It’s not moving yet, it’s not gaining ground, but it’s ready and whenever the signal comes, it’s all set to take off to the next station.
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A couple of weeks ago, I shared a post on Instagram about my foray into the world of sourdough baking. My dear friend and mentor, Kristine, shared a recipe with me ages ago, and this autumn, I set a goal to learn to bake sourdough.
Sourdough is a process. I can’t quite remember what day I started. All I remember is that it was a quiet, unassuming Tuesday. The leaves were yellowing on the branches, and I’d thrown open all the curtains in our home to let in as much of the dwindling fall light as possible. In our brightened kitchen, I measured half a cup of flour and a quarter cup of water into a glass jar. I stirred the thick mixture carefully, ensuring all the flour was incorporated. And then for the next week, I repeated the procedure of discarding half of the sticky mass and adding flour and water.
Baking sourdough was not a one-step process. I first had to grow my starter, which took weeks. It didn’t seem particularly useful. My goal of bread baking seemed to distalize as I spent my time instead feeding my starter. I baked zero loaves of bread for a month.
But in that waiting period, yeast was activating in my starter. The yeast needed time to grow, to become sturdy enough to aerate an entire loaf.
However, always one to try to jumpstart any waiting, I tried to hurry the process along. After one week of feeding the starter, I decided that was enough. I mixed up a loaf. It was a colossal flop. I didn’t have enough starter to properly mix the dough and the resulting mess looked like sawdust in my mixing bowl. It never rose. It didn’t work. Disheartened, I tossed the wasted ingredients into the garbage.
I resigned myself to more waiting and continued to feed the starter. Eventually, it began to develop bubbles and smelled yeasty like I’d always imagined French bakeries must smell.
I mixed up another batch of dough, much more successfully than my first attempt. But this bake wasn’t exactly a success either. My baking pan was too small and the lid I used squashed the top of the loaf, leaving an indent. I baked the loaf for too long, resulting in a thick, hardened outer crust.
And here’s the thing: my first loaf was far from perfect, but it still tasted pretty good when doused in spinach dip or served with spicy olive oil and sweet white balsamic vinegar. It wasn’t artisan grade by any means, but it was good and it was a start. Failing and trying again is actually the best advice I know for personal growth.
I think so often in life, we want the results now.
We don’t want to wait for the starter to mature. We don’t want to wait for direction or guidance before diving headlong into a career. We don’t want to wait for marriage. We don’t want to wait for the pregnancy test to come back positive. We don’t want to wait for healing.
We want, like I did, to bake the loaf of bread right now. Or better yet, we want the ready-to-eat loaf delivered fresh to our doorstep, without any effort, mishaps, or failure.
We want answers. We want the outcome we believe will make us happiest. We want pleasure now. We want to forego any of the pain, effort, or trials in favor of ease and convenience. We want it all to work out without any real work on our part. And when work alone doesn’t yield any results, we throw up our hands in grief or resignation, doubting that God has good for us at all.
If you feel discouraged about your recent progress or achievements or life status, you’re not alone. I’m right there in the thick of it with you! I don’t know what God wants me to do. I experience job dissatisfaction and struggle with finding “my purpose.” Sometimes I see my gifts as burdensome because I feel I am squandering my life away in meaninglessness. I tearfully ask God why, if He says we will find when we seek, I don’t seem to be finding much of anything at all.
I, too, struggle with wanting the payoff without the perseverance.
I, too, wish that I could see the win without the waiting.
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C.S. Lewis wrote many good things on the subject of waiting. One of my favorite quotes by far comes from his book Mere Christianity. It reads,
“I do not know why there is this difference, but I am sure that God keeps no one waiting unless He sees that it is good for him to wait.
When you do enter your room, you will find that the long wait has done you some kind of good which you would not have had otherwise.
But you must regard it as waiting, not as camping. You must keep on praying for light: and of course, even in the hall, you must begin trying to obey the rules which are common to the whole house.
And above all you must be asking which door is the true one; not which pleases you best by its paint and paneling.”
- C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
So much is happening behind the scenes. Just as in the case of my sourdough, the yeast is invisible. Progress is often invisible. You may be too close to the situation to realize how God is transforming your heart. You may not notice the growth that is happening below the surface. You are developing deep roots. You are learning new ways. You are becoming.
My sourdough starter needed time to develop the yeast necessary for a loaf of bread. And you, too, need time. Time to learn new skills. Time to grow resilient and strong. Time to experiment, to fail, and to try again. And again. And again.
Most often, all others can see from the outside looking in is the finished product. They can see the visible, tangible results. They see the loaf of bread, the happy marriage, the new baby, the healthy body. What they don’t see is everything that led up to that point. They don’t see the sleepless nights, the tears you’ve cried, the prayers you’ve prayed. They don’t see how much work you’ve put into something. They don’t see the searching, the seeking, the knocking, the waiting on God.
But God sees you. If it’s one thing I can encourage you in today, it’s this: you are not alone in any phase of your waiting.
And what if, after all the waiting, we don’t get the answer we are hoping for? What then?
Psalm 119:81-88 reads thus,
“I am worn out waiting for your rescue,
but I have put my hope in your word.
My eyes are straining to see your promises come true.
When will you comfort me?
I am shriveled like a wineskin in the smoke,
but I have not forgotten to obey your decrees.
How long must I wait?
When will you punish those who persecute me?
These arrogant people who hate your instructions
have dug deep pits to trap me.
All your commands are trustworthy.
Protect me from those who hunt me down without cause.
They almost finished me off,
but I refused to abandon your commandments.
In your unfailing love, spare my life;
then I can continue to obey your laws.”-Psalm 119:81-88, NLT
Real talk: sometimes, we don’t get what we want. The Psalmist is intimately familiar with this longing as he cries out to the Lord. How long? How long, O Lord?
All I know is that God is faithful and that He is also good and loving. He will not withhold good from you as a punishment or to “teach you a lesson.” In a devotional from Tim Keller, he writes that because God is sovereign and omnipotent and He knows better than we do what we need, we can thank God in advance for giving us exactly what we would have asked for if we knew everything He knows.
I know that it hurts when you’re in the valley. I have felt the sting of waiting—why must I try to control things so?—and the pain of prayer that seems to go unanswered. But if I look back on the past events in my life, all I can see is God’s faithfulness and constant goodness. His promises hold fast, He will never leave you nor forsake you. Look to the cross if you doubt God’s goodness, because even Jesus’ obedience was painful.
And keep going, friend. Keep seeking. Because God’s word is true, and He promises that if we seek Him, we shall find Him.
