The Sacred Ache of Delay
Reflections on Part 3 of 5 in the 'Standing Firm in the Battle Attack'
There is a mysterious ache that visits the hearts of every son and daughter of God. It's the ache of delay, the ache of silence.
The waiting.
And not just for little things. We wait for deliverance, for direction, for the deep things: the healing of our stories, the answers to our cries, the fulfilling of the promises whispered to us in our most honest prayers.
Part 3 of the Standing Firm in the Battle series, "Persevering in Long Seasons of Waiting," might be the most important chapter yet. Because it doesn’t just speak to theory or tidy theology—it speaks to the raw places where faith is tested in the deep. Where hope is hammered into something unshakable.
If we believe life is a story—a grand, epic, perilous tale of love and war, with God at the center inviting us into restoration—then we must also accept that all stories have valleys. The cave seasons. The years of silence. The wandering through deserts with only manna for the day. This is not failure. This is formation.
And this article, this collection of voices, gives language to the in-between. It reminds us that waiting is not a stall-out but a sacred pause. An invitation to be with God. A place where roots sink deep and trust is proven true. It’s not about what we’re missing—it’s about Who we’re becoming.
It brings us into a deeply human scene—the moment when life takes a turn you didn’t want, didn’t ask for. But instead of despair, it shows the gentle power of shifting focus from outcome to obedience, from plans to presence.
It takes us into the desert of the soul, where water seems absent and God's embrace grows cold. But even there, we’re reminded of the wrestling, the grit of the saints who would not let go until the blessing came.
It walks us through a wilderness that lasts, not for weeks, but for years. And there it finds worship. Not as a performance, but as oxygen. It reminds us that the wilderness is not abandonment; it is the proving ground of belovedness.
It speaks the word we forget too easily: adjustment. That maybe the road of waiting isn’t a straight line, but a slow meandering, with treasures hidden in the shadows. And then there is the great, old hope of Habakkuk: the vision will speak. It will not lie. Though it tarries, wait.
This article matters because it tells the truth. Not the glib, surface-level religious cliches, but the true, hard-won, gold-tested truth of what it means to endure with God. To wait, not as orphans pacing the floor, but as sons and daughters learning how to rest in the embrace of a faithful Father.
If you find yourself weary in the waiting, this is for you. Not a roadmap, but a fellowship. Not a how-to, but a reminder: You are not forgotten. You are not being punished. You are being formed. You are being loved. And the One who called you is faithful.
So lift your eyes,
even here.
Even now.
-Dan
Read the series here:
Oh, I love this! The season of the valley, of the cave, of the desert. Yes. And the need to bring oxygen to it, to lift our eyes, to see God is at the centre and to reckon with that. All a part of this mysterious journey we are on. Food for the voyage.