Hope in the Waiting: Living with Expectancy

Hope in the waiting begins in the spaces between promise and fulfillment, vision and reality, calling and opportunity. Sometimes it feels like work, and the waiting itself can feel heavy. I remember what it felt like when I first heard God’s call in my life. For the first time in my young life, there was validation and purpose. I was fifteen when I heard the call to vocational ministry on a summer mission trip. It was a powerful encounter, and as soon as I said, “Yes,” all I could see was following Jesus wherever He led—at least, whatever my inexperienced imagination could dream.

Of course, I was too young to step into that assignment without intentional discipleship and formation. But the longing between that first yes and my first real leadership opportunity became a long, winding journey.

Sometimes hope feels less like lightness and more like effort—emotional work, spiritual work, community work. Waiting is a slow, deep kind of work. It asks something of us in ways we often can’t articulate, especially for women in ministry who carry dreams, burdens, callings, and the longing for more mutuality in the church.

Formed in the Quiet: The Hidden Work of Seasons

We live in a culture that prizes speed, productivity, and visible results. It can be hard to recognize the sacred formation happening in the unseen, quiet places of our lives. I’m not suggesting that spiritual formation is automatic—intentionality and posture matter. Part of stewarding our calling is cultivating a heart that listens, notices, and waits.

Some seasons teach us this almost without realizing it. I think back to years of piano practice that felt like I was going nowhere. My teacher and I had more than one conversation where she wondered if I’d ever find my footing. Yet every Sunday, when I sit down at the piano to lead worship, I remember her investment. Those skills that now feel natural once felt impossibly difficult. I’m grateful my parents didn’t budge when I lobbied hard to quit those lessons.

What felt disconnected from my longing and purpose was actually forming something essential in me. Repetition, quiet work, and slow faithfulness shape us long before we see where it’s leading.

Even in Scripture, God often shapes leaders in the quiet. Elizabeth carried a long ache of waiting—not only for a child, but for the fulfillment of God’s promise to her family and community. Her story reminds us that hope in the waiting is never wasted. God is often preparing something in us long before we see the evidence.

God’s most transformative work happens beneath the surface—shaping character, courage, imagination, and the inner life of a leader. Preparation is not personal stagnation; it is an essential part of the journey God uses to make us ready for what comes next.
Hope in the Waiting: Active Participation with God

Hope in the Waiting: Leaning Into God’s Timing

In a culture that prizes purpose and productivity, waiting can feel like inaction—or even failure. Accusing thoughts arise quickly, calling the holy work of waiting “lazy” or “unmotivated.” We all know the ache of hustle—the push to make things happen, the belief that our worth is tied to output.

But hope isn’t a weak feeling—and it isn’t passive.

Hope in the waiting is a cooperative partnership with God’s timing. Waiting with expectancy leans in with faith, listens with a desire to understand, and stays attuned even when God feels silent. He is always at work, even when His movement feels disconnected or unrelated to what we’re holding. That is the majesty and mystery of God—He sees it all, knows it all, and knows the wisest way through it all.

As we learn to trust His ways with bold courage, we begin to see more of the depth of His faithful and perfect love.
Here are some practices that help cultivate hope in the waiting—practices that posture our hearts toward expectancy and help us partner with the Holy Spirit. These are not exercises in striving, but postures of humility that train us to discern God’s presence and activity.

Listening Prayer

Prayer can easily become noisy—filled with words, requests, petitions, and intercessions. None of that is wrong, but it is not the only way to pray. Listening prayer shifts our focus from talking at God to attentively listening to God—waiting for His guidance, wisdom, and love. It forms a responsive heart rather than a reactive one.

Jan Johnson, author, speaker, and spiritual director, talks more about this in an article she wrote over on Renovare. And if you think you might want to dive into this a little more, she also compiled a book with Dallas Willard’s writings entitled Hearing God Through the Year, a 365-day devotional, which is a great formative companion resource for training the heart to listen.

Noticing Where God Is Already at Work

It’s easy to see God’s activity in big, obvious ways. Learning to notice Him in ordinary, everyday moments takes intentionality—in hallway conversations, quiet encouragements, and small acts of kindness. This kind of noticing cultivates gratitude, awareness, and presence.

Small Acts of Faithful Leadership

Never underestimate starting small. Significant assignments often begin with modest, unseen steps—just like I wrote in [Faithfulness in the Hidden Places], where every oak begins as a single seed. Small acts of faithfulness are where God builds resilience, wisdom, and trustworthiness.

Imagining What Could Be

Hope in the waiting engages our imagination. God delights when we dream with Him, catching glimpses of His vision for our lives and communities. Creativity is part of our image-bearing identity. So imagine, explore, innovate, and dream—even before evidence appears. Holy imagination is a form of active discernment and a way of participating with God as we wait.

The Work of Hope in Ministry for Women

Sometimes the weight of hope in the waiting can feel overwhelming. You may sense a call but see no clear way forward. Waiting often looks like:

• Holding space for affirmation or opportunity
• Trusting systems and structures to evolve
• Yearning for healing in your community
• Listening for clarity in your calling

Women in ministry carry emotional, relational, and spiritual labor that can feel unique. Bold and courageous obedience often meets resistance, especially when pushing against cultural norms rooted in male-dominated leadership. My sister, this labor is holy work. Nothing is wasted energy.

Being Formed Before Being Sent

Leadership isn’t about what we bring or do—it begins with being formed by God’s presence. We can only lead others where we ourselves have been willing to go. Our formation is transformative, not just for our own growth, but for every person we encounter. You and I are agents of change only insofar as we are willing to be changed.

As we practice resting in communion with God’s holy presence, we become deeply rooted in connection. This produces responsive leadership, instead of reactive striving, proving, or earning. God shapes us in the waiting places so we can lead with depth, humility, and wholeness.

Seeing God’s Work: Signs of Hope in the Waiting

In quiet seasons—when we feel stuck or forgotten—life can feel like a slog. Despair is real, but it does not mean you are being unfaithful. Instead of dismissing those feelings, we can engage them with the Holy Spirit and discern the invitation of the moment.
God is faithful even when it seems like nothing is happening. He rarely hands us a dramatic revelation in these seasons. More often, He lifts the curtain through ordinary, everyday movements.

As we tune our hearts to Him, we begin to notice subtle signs of healing and transformation:

• Increasing compassion
• Renewed imagination
• A softer heart toward others
• Growing clarity about calling
• Strength to keep showing up
• A sense of belonging emerging in unexpected places

These are the evidence of divine companionship.

Elizabeth’s story reminds us that hope in the waiting is never wasted. Her blessing came in a season that outwardly appeared still. Inwardly, God was at work—preparing her to carry and raise John, the one who would announce the coming of Christ.
Hidden doesn’t mean inactive. Quiet doesn’t mean abandoned. In the still places, God is forming us for what comes next.

Flourishing on the Horizon: Hope in the Waiting and Imagination

Here at Awaken, we envision a church where women and men lead together according to their gifts and calling. This vision is still unfolding, and I often hear stories that remind me how far we still have to go. Yet we move toward it together—dreaming, practicing, and innovating in both small and significant ways.

It takes time to understand and even more to build. Flourishing is on the horizon, but it requires commitment to the whole journey. Waiting seasons train, stretch, and reform us into people who can hold hope—people who embody a vision of shared flourishing where women’s leadership is welcomed, valued, and embraced.

Amid frustration, rejection, or long stretches of silence, remember: formation is happening. There is a holy pressure-cooker effect as you trust, wait, and lean into grace. It is not wasted. God is shaping you for what’s ahead.

From this place, it becomes easier to rest in a peace that looks forward with expectancy rather than exhaustion. Holy impatience can have a place too—it can fuel intimacy with God, moving us toward prayer, discernment, and imagination, even when circumstances feel still.

Exhaustion pushes, hustles, and strives. Leading from expectancy—choosing intentionality in the waiting—keeps us connected to God, grounded in hope, and open to the quiet ways He is preparing us for shared flourishing.

Benediction

Take a deep breath and remember: God is at work, even when you can’t see it.
Hold onto hope in the waiting, even when it feels like hard work.
Let these waiting seasons shape you—into a leader who carries God’s presence with humility, courage, and love.

Reflection Prompt:
“Lord, teach me to wait with expectancy. Shape me in the quiet, and anchor me in hope.”

Sit with that. Notice where God is already at work in the hidden, ordinary parts of your life. Your waiting is not wasted—it is forming something beautiful.