Waiting

How long must the church wait before it joins the world that is spinning?

The concept of waiting has been lingering heavily on my mind lately.

It’s a quiet ache, really. The kind of stillness that isn’t peaceful but restless. The kind that feels like being stuck behind glass—watching life go on, seasons shift, people change, and wondering when—if—the church will join in.

We know something about waiting in the church world. We’re quite good at it, actually.

We wait to make decisions. We wait to have another meeting. We wait to see if the conflict will resolve itself. We wait for people to “come back.” We wait for younger generations to engage. We wait for the numbers to turn around. We wait for a revival, a renewal, a miracle. We wait for the Spirit to move—but sometimes forget that the Spirit already has.

And while we wait, the world keeps spinning.

The earth does not wait. It moves in cycles and seasons. Spring brings planting. Summer brings bloom. Fall yields harvest. Winter forces rest and pruning.

Creation does not pause for our hesitation. It follows rhythms older and wiser than us. It trusts that life comes from death, that growth comes from letting go, and that waiting—when done rightly—isn’t about avoidance. It’s about preparation.

But too often, the church’s waiting isn’t preparation. It’s paralysis.

We say we’re being “thoughtful.” That we’re “discerning.” That we don’t want to move too fast. But let’s be honest—sometimes we’re just afraid. Afraid of change. Afraid of conflict. Afraid to admit that what once worked… no longer does.

We’ve become skilled at waiting for something to happen, rather than waiting with holy expectancy.

There’s a difference.

• Holy waiting is active. It leans in. It prepares the soil.

• Passive waiting is fear dressed up as faith. It holds its breath. It avoids the mess.

We live in a world aching for compassion, hungry for connection, desperate for something real. And too often the church responds with... a planning meeting. A committee. A cautious pause. A decision to “circle back next month.”

How long must the church wait before it joins the world that is spinning?

The irony is that the world is full of waiting, too—but it's not the same kind. People are waiting for someone to care. Waiting for justice to come. Waiting for community that doesn’t feel performative. Waiting for a word of hope that actually speaks to now. Waiting for the church to show up in the rhythms and realities of real life.

And still, we wait.

But here’s the thing: Spring does not wait for winter to end on a committee vote. Summer does not wait for unanimous approval to bear fruit. Harvest comes because someone had the courage to plant something in faith.

Maybe that’s what waiting should look like in the church.

Not idle hopefulness, but sowing seeds when we can’t yet see the outcome. Not fear of doing the wrong thing, but trust that doing something matters. Not waiting for the world to change, but joining in the transformation already happening.

Because life is moving. And God is moving. And the question isn’t whether we should keep waiting.

The question is: What are we waiting for?

And even more than that: Who are we becoming while we wait?

So today, I’m watching the seasons. I’m remembering that growth never comes without risk. And I’m wondering if maybe—just maybe—it’s time to stop waiting.

And start moving.