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Weighed down by waiting.

Lord, I am torn—

Pulled between promise and patience,

Between the weight of Your call

And the silence of Your “not yet.”

I stand like David, oil still fresh on my brow,

A king without a crown,

A shepherd in fields too small

For the size of this calling. 

I see the altar before me—

A sacrifice that isn’t mine to give,

And the fear creeps in,

That I will lose it all if I wait too long.

But I know, deep within,

To rush is to ruin.

To panic is to fall.

Still, my heart burns with the hunger to act,

To claim what I’ve been promised,

To step into the throne room

Before Your time. 

Was it not the same for Him,

Your Son, who knew from the start

The weight of what He carried?

But even He waited,

Telling His mother,

“My hour has not yet come.”

If Christ Himself could wait

For Your perfect hour,

How much more must I?

How much more must I trust? 

I am in the desert, Lord,

Like Moses, wandering as a shepherd

In Jethro’s fields,

Hearing the call yet tending another’s flock.

Forty years before the burning bush,

Forty years before the Red Sea parted.

And I feel the sand beneath my feet,

Wishing for a staff of my own,

But waiting,

Waiting for You to send the fire. 

My soul aches for the greatness

You’ve whispered into my spirit,

But I am pressed down

By this weight of waiting.

I feel the anointing,

But it chafes like armor too large

For the boy I still am. 

Like Joseph in the prison,

Dreams of the stars still bright in his mind,

Yet clothed in chains.

I hear the voices—

"Why wait? Why delay?

Take it now, the world is ready."

But I know they lie.

They offer me what I cannot yet hold,

More than I can bite,

More than I can swallow. 

Lord, give me the strength

To stay small while You shape me.

Let me be the clay

That bends in Your hands,

Though I long for the finished vessel.

Teach me to wait, as David waited—

To sing psalms in the shadows,

To sit with the wise,

Though my heart runs ahead. 

Let my waiting be a furnace,

Purifying what ambition cannot touch.

For I am called, yes,

But I am also called to wait.

And in this waiting,

You are forming something deeper

Than the throne or the crown. 

I feel the weight of waiting crushing my spirit,

The burden of patience growing heavy.

Yet since You weigh me down with waiting,

Give me the strength to wait.