The bag of microwave popcorn was taking too long. In the span of 20 seconds, I checked on it twice, wondering why I wasn’t hearing the reassuring pop of the first kernels. And although it was barely a minute between when I put the bag in the microwave and when I took it out to shake the steaming popcorn into a bowl, it felt like forever. Disappointed in my own impatience, I thought my primary transgression was that I had gone too long between meals, so that all too familiar combination of hunger and anger had me shaking my metaphorical fists at a kitchen appliance. But with time and reflection, I realized that the real issue was the frustration I was feeling in this season of waiting on God.
The prophet Isaiah tells us that those who wait for God will renew their strength. It’s a passage filled with incredibly uplifting promises: the faint will be given power; the powerless will be strengthened; you will be able to run and not grow weary, to walk and not faint (40:28–31). These are the exact promises I needed to hear after the end of a long semester, a long season, and a long year.
Yet there was that one pesky word at the beginning of the promises: wait.
