Worship in the Waiting

6 Day Devotional Series:

The Waiting Room of God

I remember sitting in the tension between promise and fulfillment. I knew deep in my heart that God had spoken, that breakthrough was on the horizon, but the waiting pressed in like a heavy weight. My prayers sometimes felt unanswered, and my heart wrestled with bitterness, doubt, and discouragement.

It was in that season that the Holy Spirit reminded me of Paul’s words in Romans 12:12: “Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.”

At first, the verse felt almost impossible. How could I be joyful when everything around me looked stuck? How could I celebrate what I had not yet seen? But then God gently shifted my perspective. Joy wasn’t about my circumstances—it was about trust. It was about believing that His promises are as good as done, even if my eyes couldn’t see them yet.

Patience in affliction became another teacher. Waiting wasn’t wasted time; it was training ground. In the delay, God was refining me, strengthening me, and shaping me to carry the breakthrough when it arrived. The affliction wasn’t evidence of His absence—it was an invitation to lean deeper into His presence.

And then came the anchor: faithful in prayer. Prayer was no longer a desperate attempt to twist God’s arm—it became the steady rhythm that kept my heart soft. Prayer wasn’t just asking; it was aligning, reminding my soul that He was faithful yesterday, faithful today, and faithful tomorrow.

Slowly, the waiting room of God became less of a prison and more of a sanctuary. I began to see waiting as worship. Instead of rehearsing my frustrations, I started rehearsing His faithfulness. Instead of counting my losses, I began counting the ways He had already shown up for me. My posture shifted from bitterness to celebration, from doubt to declaration.

The breakthrough didn’t come overnight, but something even more powerful did: peace. Philippians 4:7 describes it well:

“And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”Peace became the proof that God was working, even when my eyes could not yet see it.

Looking back, I realize the waiting was never wasted. It was the place where my faith grew roots. It was where my joy became untouchable, my patience became strength, and my prayers became songs of worship.

And maybe that’s what God wanted all along—not just to bring the breakthrough, but to shape my heart to celebrate Him before the breakthrough ever came.

Day1 – The Waiting Room of God

• Write down all the lies you are believe about yourself, others and your circumstances and ask God what the truth is about those lies. And turn them into declarations, then throughout the day declare the truth in the moments when you are wrestling with doubt, bitterness and discouragement.

• Romans 12:12 as the anchor for waiting with joy, patience, and prayer.

• Theme: Waiting is not wasted; it’s worship.

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Joy Before the Breakthrough

There was a time not long ago when we were staring at a mountain we couldn’t move.

Rent was due, bills were piling up, and no money was coming in. Rachael and I had done everything we knew to do. We prayed. We tightened the budget. We waited. But the breakthrough we needed—especially financially—just wasn’t showing up.

And every day that passed, the pressure got heavier. Fear started knocking louder. That tight feeling in your chest, the one that creeps in when you’re trying to stay in faith but your circumstances are screaming the opposite—that feeling became a daily companion.

We needed a miracle.

But instead of one, all we had was silence.

And in that space, we were faced with a choice. It wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t feel spiritual. It just came down to this: Will we sit in despair, or will we choose joy?

It felt ridiculous. Choosing joy? Now? With the rent unpaid and no plan B?

But deep down, something in us said, "This is where it counts. This is what faith actually looks like."

So we gathered in our living room, just our little family. No lightning bolt from heaven. No check in the mail. Just the decision to worship God like the answer had already come.

And you know what we did?

We had a dance party.

Yep—right there in the middle of our living room, with bills on the table and not a dollar to spare, we turned on the music and we danced.

We laughed.We sang.We jumped around like people who had already won the lottery.

Our kids thought it was great. For them, it wasn’t weird—it was just joy. Pure, childlike joy. But for us, it was warfare. It was trust. It was faith.

Because we weren’t dancing for what we saw—we were dancing for what we believed was coming.

And then, the next morning, it happened.

Out of nowhere, money came through that we weren’t expecting. Not just a little—enough to cover all of it. Rent. Bills. Everything.

Just like that, the breakthrough showed up.

I don’t think it was an accident. I believe our joy was a prophetic act—a seed of faith that released something in the spiritual realm.

Because joy like that doesn’t make sense. Joy before the breakthrough isn’t logical. It’s not emotional hype or naive optimism. It’s the kind of joy that defies circumstances. The kind of joy the prophet Habakkuk wrote about when he said:

“Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines… yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.” (Habakkuk 3:17–18)

He wasn’t rejoicing because everything was going right. He was rejoicing in spite of it all going wrong. That’s what makes joy so powerful. It’s not a reaction—it’s a declaration.

That day in our living room, we declared something heaven heard loud and clear:

“God, we trust You—even now.”

We didn’t wait for the miracle to celebrate. We celebrated, and the miracle followed.

So wherever you are today—maybe you’re standing in a place where nothing’s blooming, and you’re tempted to give in to despair—can I tell you something?

Turn on the music.

Dance anyway.Rejoice anyway.Sing like you’ve already seen the breakthrough.

Because joy isn’t just a feeling—it’s an act of faith. A prophetic statement that says, “God is good. He is faithful. And I will praise Him even here.”

And when joy comes before the breakthrough, it has a way of pulling heaven into now.

Day 2 – Joy Before the Breakthrough

• Key Scripture: Habakkuk 3:17–18 – “Though the fig tree does not bud… yet I will rejoice in the Lord.”

• Reflection: Joy is a prophetic act—rejoicing in what’s unseen.

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The Refining of Patience

There’s a quiet kind of transformation that happens in the waiting.

It’s not loud. It’s not dramatic. It doesn’t usually come with fireworks or headlines. But it changes you—slowly, deeply, and permanently.

I’ve walked through that kind of season.

A time when nothing around me seemed to be moving. I was believing for breakthrough, praying bold prayers, trying to stay faithful. But still, silence. Still, delay. Still, the tension of believing for something I couldn’t yet see.

At first, I resisted it. I thought the delay was a problem to fix, a battle to fight through. But over time, I realized: this wasn’t just a delay—this was a refining.

In that season, I remember moments where despair tried to creep in, whispering that nothing was changing. I felt it pressing in, trying to convince me to give up, to back down, to lower my expectations. But instead of giving in, I found myself making choices I hadn’t made before.

I chose joy instead of despair.I chose hope instead of discouragement.I chose faith in the darkness.

And to my surprise, I found peace. Not because the storm was over—but because something deeper was happening inside of me. I wasn’t being rescued out of the waiting—I was being reshaped within it.

That’s when I thought about Jesus—asleep in the storm.

The disciples were panicking. The waves were crashing. Water was filling the boat. And Jesus… was at rest. Not restless. Not pacing. Asleep.

It wasn’t because He didn’t care—it was because He carried peace.

And when He woke up, He didn’t mirror the chaos around Him. He didn’t react in fear. Instead, He stood up and spoke peace to the storm.

Because that’s what Jesus does: His inner reality becomes the atmosphere around Him.

And that’s what He’s invited us into—to live with a mind so renewed, a spirit so anchored, that what’s happening aroundus doesn’t dictate what’s happening within us.

We’re not meant to be shaped by the storm.We’re meant to shape the storm with what we carry inside.

That’s what patience really is. Not passive, quiet suffering—but the power to stay grounded when everything around you feels uncertain. Patience is what happens when you trust God deeply enough to let the delay form you, not frustrate you.

The book of James says it like this:

“The testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” (James 1:3–4)

God isn’t just interested in quick outcomes—He’s committed to deep formation.

I used to pray, “God, make it happen.”Now I often pray, “God, make me ready.”

Because the truth is, the waiting shaped my character in ways the breakthrough never could. It was in the delays that I learned endurance. It was in the not-yet that I learned to trust deeper. And it was in the silence that I heard His voice more clearly than ever before.

Waiting is a character-building season.

It’s a holy tension that invites us to respond with the opposite spirit:

Where the world says panic, we choose peace.Where the world says rush, we choose trust.Where the world says control, we choose surrender.

And that’s what it means to bear the fruit of the Spirit—not when it’s easy, but when the season actually requires it.

You bear love when people are hard to love.You bear joy when circumstances don’t warrant it.You bear patience when nothing is moving fast enough.That’s why it’s fruit—it grows in tension, not in comfort.

And now, looking back, I’m thankful for the waiting. Because the person I became in the process is someone I wouldn’t trade—someone more grounded, more steady, more rooted in who God is and who He’s making me to be.

So if you’re in that place today—if you’re in between the promise and the fulfillment, if the tension feels long and heavy—remember this:

The waiting isn’t wasted.It’s where God shapes your inner world so deeply that, one day, you’ll be able to stand in your breakthrough with character that can carry it.

Let Him finish what He started.

Because on the other side of this process, you won’t just have what you were waiting for—you’ll have become who you were meant to be.

Day 3 – The Refining of Patience

• Key Scripture: James 1:3–4 – “The testing of your faith produces perseverance…”

• Reflection: Patience isn’t passive—it’s God actively shaping you for what’s next.

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Prayer as Alignment

For a long time, I prayed like a beggar.

Desperate. Pleading. Hoping that if I just said the right words, or cried hard enough, God might finally move. I was praying out of fear, not faith. Out of lack, not identity. And while my words were aimed at heaven, my heart was still stuck on earth—unsure, unsure if I really belonged at the table.

I knew God was good, but deep down I didn’t fully know who I was.

And maybe more importantly, I didn’t know who He was—as my Father.

I’ve learned that knowing who I am as a son of God is crucial. But even more foundational is knowing who my Father is. Because if I know Him—really know His nature, His heart, His hope—I’ll stop praying like I’m on the outside, and start praying from the place of belonging.

I’ve never once seen God hopeless.I’ve never heard Him say, “I don’t know what to do.”I’ve never seen Him anxious or shaken.

And because my Father always has hope, a renewed mind will always have hope too.

That realization changed the way I pray.

Jesus modeled it. He didn’t throw words into the air, hoping they stuck. He prayed with clarity, confidence, and alignment. He said:

“I only do what I see My Father doing. I only say what I hear My Father saying.”

Even in prayer, Jesus aligned His heart, His thoughts, and His words with the Father’s.

And if He did it, so must we.

There was a time in my life when this truth came crashing in—when prayer stopped being about convincing God to move, and started becoming about aligning with His heart.

I was struggling with severe food allergies. It was miserable. I had watched God heal others—sometimes instantly—but for years, I suffered. Every meal was a risk. Every reaction reminded me that, somehow, healing had skipped me.

And I prayed.Oh, I prayed.

Begging. Crying. Quoting Scripture. Fasting. Waiting.

I remember one particular night, I was at the end of myself. My body was worn out. My prayers felt hollow. And I finally broke and cried out, “Lord… even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from Your table.”

I meant it sincerely. It was all I had left. But in hindsight, it came from a place of false humility—this quiet belief that maybe I wasn’t meant for the full blessing, that maybe crumbs were the best I could hope for.

But in that moment, something supernatural happened.

I had a vision.

I saw myself as a little child, a toddler, playing under a long, glorious table. The Father sat at the head. I was crawling around on the floor, reaching for crumbs, just like I’d said. And then I looked up—and He was smiling at me.

With warmth in His eyes, He leaned down and said,“Son, I have a spot for you right here by My side.”

And in that instant, something broke off me.

I wasn’t a beggar anymore. I wasn’t an outsider hoping for leftover blessings. I was a son. A beloved child of God, with a seat at the banquet, not the floor.

That moment shifted everything.I aligned with who He said I was.I aligned with how He sees me.

And the very next day—I was healed.

Completely.Permanently.That was over sixteen years ago. I’ve had no allergies since.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

Sometimes we stay in waiting not because God is unwilling to bless us, but because we’ve agreed with a version of ourselves that doesn’t belong at the table. We believe we’re only worthy of crumbs, so we never take our seat.

But our prayers shift when we do.

We stop begging and start partnering.We stop pleading and start declaring.We stop praying from a place of distance and start praying from our seat beside the Father.

And from that place, everything changes.

Paul wrote in Philippians:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God… will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”(Philippians 4:6–7)

Prayer is not just about asking. It’s about aligning.It’s the place where our hearts are settled, our minds are renewed, and peace takes over the places fear once lived.

Prayer isn’t just what we say—it’s where we sit.It’s not just about presenting a need—it’s about remembering who we are, and more importantly, who He is.

If you’ve been praying from the floor—if you’ve been begging for crumbs when God is inviting you to the table—maybe today is the day to stand up, take your seat, and start praying like the son or daughter you truly are.

The Father isn’t reluctant.He’s ready.And your seat has been reserved all along.

Day 4 – Prayer as Alignment

• Key Scripture: Philippians 4:6–7.

• Reflection: Prayer is not just request—it’s the place where our hearts and minds are guarded in peace.

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Worship as Warfare

Worship doesn’t always start from a mountaintop.Sometimes, it starts in a hospital bed.

I remember one season where everything in me wanted to worry—about finances, health, and the mounting pressure that surrounded me. But instead, God whispered something simple:

“Worship Me.”

Not because everything was fine.Not because I felt strong.But because He is still who He says He is.

So every day, I woke up, picked up my guitar, and began to worship.

There were no cameras. No stage. No crowd. Just me and God in the hidden place.

I sang songs of His goodness. I thanked Him for His provision—even when I had bills I couldn’t pay. I praised Him for breakthrough—even when I saw no signs of it. And somehow, in that place of raw, unpolished worship, something began to shift.

Not just around me—but inside me.

That’s what worship does.

It lifts your eyes from what’s breaking and puts them back on the One who never breaks. It silences fear. It confronts worry. It pushes back the heavy fog of discouragement and invites the atmosphere of heaven into your situation.

But then came a darker season.

One where worship would cost me even more.

I was rushed to the hospital after developing a serious infection. It wasn’t just discomfort—it was life-threatening. A flesh-eating bacteria had attacked my hand, and I was deteriorating fast. The doctors didn’t sugarcoat it. They told me they might have to amputate. First fingers, then maybe the whole hand.

The very hand I used to play guitar. To lead worship. To lift in surrender.

I was torn open, bandaged up, and surrounded by beeping machines. But I didn’t respond with despair.

I responded with worship.

One of my friends brought a guitar into the hospital room. We didn’t have all the words, but we had a song. The presence of God filled that sterile, fluorescent-lit space. Worry tried to whisper, but worship shouted louder.

There’s a song called Gratitude, and there’s this line in it that says:

“I throw up my hands and praise You again and again…”

And that’s exactly what I did.

With an aching, mutilated hand—covered in wounds, wrapped in gauze—I lifted it up toward heaven and worshiped.

Not because I felt victorious.

But because I knew who God was.

Even when my body was failing.Even when the doctors had no answers.Even when death felt close.

I worshiped because He is still the Healer.I worshiped because He is still the Provider.I worshiped because my faith isn’t built on outcomes—it’s built on His nature.

The day before the doctors were scheduled to amputate my hand, they came into my room, examined me, and then paused. Something had changed.

The infection was gone.

The healing had begun—suddenly, supernaturally.

Instead of prepping for surgery, they discharged me.

I walked out of that hospital room whole.

No amputation. No permanent damage.Today, I have full movement in every finger. Full strength in my hand. No scars that can’t lift in worship.

Because God is who He says He is.

The Bible tells us a story in 2 Chronicles 20. The people of Judah were surrounded by enemies—outnumbered, overwhelmed, under attack. But instead of sending warriors first, they sent worshipers.

“As they began to sing and praise, the Lord set ambushes against their enemies...”(2 Chronicles 20:22)

The worship didn’t just encourage them—it confused the enemy.It shifted the atmosphere.It won the war before the battle began.

Worship isn’t a filler before the sermon.It’s not just emotional expression.Worship is warfare.

It tells your soul who’s really in charge.It tells your storm who’s really on the throne.And it invites God’s presence to do what your strength never could.

So wherever you are today—whether in a quiet place of hidden trust, or in a hospital bed of fear and uncertainty—remember this:

Worship isn’t a reaction to your circumstances.It’s a declaration of who God is despite them.

It’s not just the song you sing.It’s the weapon you carry.

So throw up your hands.Praise Him again and again.And let heaven invade the waiting.

Because when you worship, God goes to war for you.

Day 5 – Worship as Warfare

Key Scripture: 2 Chronicles 20:22 – “As they began to sing and praise, the Lord set ambushes…”

• Reflection: Worship pushes back fear, doubt, and discouragement.

The Breakthrough and Beyond

Looking back over my life, I see a trail of waiting seasons—moments where I stood between what God promised and what I could actually see. Some of those seasons were short, others long. But all of them shaped me.

And in each of them, one prayer stayed the same:

“God, let my heart posture be right. Let me celebrate the breakthrough—not just because it came, but because I’ve passed the test of faith.”

Waiting has a way of refining you.

It strips away assumptions.It reveals where your trust really lies.It teaches you how to praise with empty hands and rejoice with unfulfilled promises.

And when the breakthrough finally comes?It’s no longer just about what you received—it’s about who you became while waiting.

I remember one particular breakthrough season.

It didn’t come with fireworks or dramatic music. It came quietly, like the sunrise—soft, steady, sure. The finances came through. The healing arrived. The door that had been shut swung open.

But what shocked me most wasn’t the miracle—it was the peace I already had before it happened.

The peace wasn’t tied to the outcome—it had become part of me through the process.

The breakthrough was beautiful, but I realized:I had already been changed in the waiting.

The waiting had built perseverance.The perseverance had built character.And the character had formed a deeper hope than I’d ever known before.

Now, when I face moments of waiting again—and they still come—I don’t panic the way I used to. I don’t question God's nature. I remind myself of my history with Him.

I remember how He came through before.

I remember the tears, the prayers, the moments of near surrender—and how each one became part of the foundation I now stand on.

That’s the beauty of testimonies.

They’re not just memories—they’re prophecies.

Revelation says, “The testimony of Jesus is the spirit of prophecy.” When you hear a testimony of what God has done, it’s not just encouragement—it’s a prophetic declaration that He can do it again.

So whether you have years of personal history with God or you’re just starting to trust Him, you can borrow the faith of others. You can celebrate their victories as a promise over your own life.

And this is the mark of a renewed mind:

You can celebrate others’ breakthroughs as if they were your own.

Because you understand that your Father is not limited.One person’s miracle doesn’t diminish yours.It fuels it.

Isaiah 40:31 puts it like this:

“Those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength. They will mount up on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”

Waiting doesn’t weaken you—it strengthens you.

It teaches you to soar above the noise.To run with endurance.To walk forward, even when the path feels uncertain.

And when the breakthrough finally arrives—when what you’ve been contending for shows up—you realize:

Breakthrough is not the end.It’s the beginning of a new season of trust.

It’s not the finish line.It’s the starting line for a deeper journey with God.

So today, I live from that place—not always having the answers, but always carrying the history. Not always seeing clearly, but always trusting deeply.

When I wait, I do so with expectation.When I see someone else get their breakthrough, I celebrate like it’s my own.Because I know mine is coming too.

And when it does, I won’t just praise Him for what He gave me—I’ll praise Him for how He formed mein the waiting.

Because He is always faithful.And every breakthrough is just another chapter in the story of His goodness.

Day 6 – The Breakthrough and Beyond

• Key Scripture: Isaiah 40:31 – “Those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength…”

• Reflection: Breakthrough is not the end; it’s the beginning of a new season of trust.

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