When You’re Waiting
When You’re Waiting Woman of the Day: Sarah Key Verse: “Is anything too hard for the Lord? I will return to you at the appointed time next year, and Sarah will have a son.” — Genesis 18:14 (NIV)
Lesson Title: When You’re Waiting I don’t wait well. In traffic, in the drive-thru, in life — waiting makes me itchy. I’d rather fix it, force it, or figure it out. I want resolution. I want movement. I want progress. And if God would like to go ahead and align His timing with mine, I’m all for it. But He rarely does. And that’s where Sarah’s story meets us — in the middle of the long, slow, silent wait.
The Background: Who Was Sarah? Sarah (originally Sarai) was the wife of Abraham, and the matriarch of Israel. Her story spans from Genesis 12 to 23, and it’s filled with promises, relocations, mistakes, and miracles. When God first called Abraham, He said He would make him into a great nation — a promise that required descendants. But as years turned into decades, that promise began to feel like a cruel joke. Sarah was barren, and she aged past the natural point of childbearing. Let that sink in: Sarah was promised something good — but denied it for 25 years.
The Pain of Waiting The Hebrew word for barren in Genesis 11:30 is “aqar” (עֲקָרָה) — it means stripped, plucked up, uprooted. It’s not just about a physical condition. It implies loss, emptiness, and disruption of what should be natural. Sarah wasn’t just waiting for a baby. She was waiting to feel fruitful. To feel blessed. To believe God hadn’t forgotten her. And in the waiting… she tried to take control. “So she said to Abram, ‘The Lord has kept me from having children. Go, sleep with my slave; perhaps I can build a family through her.’” — Genesis 16:2 This wasn’t a faithless move — it was a desperate one. It was culturally normal in the ancient Near East to have a surrogate through a servant, but that didn’t make it right. That didn’t make it peaceful. Hagar bore Ishmael. And things only got messier from there. Waiting without answers often leads us to create our own outcomes. We think, “Maybe I heard God wrong. Maybe I need to help Him out.” But when we rush God’s process, we often invite pain we weren’t meant to carry. 🤍 Personal Reflection: My Own Waiting Room I’ve spent many seasons waiting. Waiting for healing. Waiting for clarity. Waiting for reconciliation. Waiting for the next right thing when the last right thing fell apart. There was a time I thought my story was too broken to be restored — and too delayed to be useful. I had prayed. I had believed. I had waited. And still… silence. In those seasons, I questioned everything. God, are You holding out on me? Did I miss the moment? Was the promise for someone else? But looking back, I see it now: He wasn’t punishing me. He was preparing me. And there are some things you can only grow in the waiting. 🕊️ For Those Still Waiting… A Story of Redemption For those of you who are still waiting — for a child, for a marriage, for a job, for what’s next — I want to share a sweet and personal story with you. I’ve mentioned my BASM before — my Bad A Spiritual Mama. Her real name is Suzanne, and over a decade ago, I walked into her home for a Bible study… and unknowingly, into the most sacred relationship of my adult life. I didn’t want to go to that study. I was carrying shame, secrets, and the kind of heaviness that makes meeting new people feel unbearable. But I went anyway. Suzanne was different. She had long red hair, drove a flashy white Corvette, and lived in a modern, candle-lit home with a prayer room that felt like Holy Ground. Her husband Bob? A bass-playing, singing sweetheart. Together, they were unlike anyone I’d ever known. That first day, she looked in my eyes and invited me to come back later that week — just me and her. We sat in her prayer room surrounded by books, swan-shaped origami, flickering candles, and the tangible presence of peace. It was mystical. It was strange. It was sacred. She changed my life. But here's the part I don’t want you to miss: I changed hers too. Suzanne and Bob never had children. They tried for years. Their hearts ached with the grief of prayers unanswered. But then… one by one… people like me started showing up. Me. Meg. Kelli. Kristi. Amber. Jackie. Ashley. Saundra. And more. We didn’t come from the same womb — but we became her daughters. I'd say there are 20+ of us now. And we don’t just call her a mentor — we call her Mama. And Bob? He’s Papa. In fact, he walked me down the aisle when I got remarried. They remember birthdays. They show up. They are the embodiment of spiritual family. One day, after surgery, they drove me home. As I sat in the back seat of their car, loopy from anesthesia, I started to cry — not just from pain, but from an overwhelming sense of safety. I’d never ridden in the back seat with a mom and a dad. That moment, short as it was, gave me a glimpse of what belonging feels like. Suzanne was once barren. But now? She is overflowing.
The Laugh That Turned to Life Years later, when God showed up and reaffirmed His promise to Sarah, she laughed. “So Sarah laughed to herself as she thought, ‘After I am worn out and my lord is old, will I now have this pleasure?’” — Genesis 18:12 Not a joyful laugh — a bitter, disbelieving one. A laugh that said, “Sure, God. Now? Really?” But God heard her. And He turned that laugh into life. Isaac. In Hebrew: Yitzchak (יִצְחָק) — He laughs. That’s the kind of God we serve: A God who takes our disbelief and transforms it into joy.
Foreshadowing of Redemption Sarah’s story isn’t just about a miracle baby — it’s about a miracle God. A God who keeps His promises. A God who sees you behind the curtain. A God who isn’t in a hurry but never forgets. And through Isaac came Jacob. And through Jacob came the twelve tribes of Israel. And through that lineage — came Jesus.
Today’s Reflection Questions: What are you waiting on right now? Has waiting made you feel overlooked, forgotten, or behind? Where have you been tempted to “help God out”? Who might God be bringing into your life — or calling you to love — during your own season of waiting?
Prayer: Lord, I confess — I don’t wait well. I want to skip ahead, rush the process, and avoid the ache of delay. But You are the God who sees me in the silence and still keeps every promise. Help me trust You while I wait — not because I understand everything, but because I believe You are good. Turn my sighs into laughter. Multiply what feels barren in my life. Amen.
