Waiting Deception

When you have waited for something for so long that the wait feels endless and exhausting, an angel called “Waiting Deception” begins to whisper.

It whispers that the caution you once believed was wisdom was actually pride. Suddenly, you begin to wonder how saying an obvious no—something your faith and morals once resisted—now feels normal.

It is the same voice that convinced my friend, who had been trusting God for the fruit of the womb, that her abusive ex must have been her soulmate—simply because he now has three children, despite inflicting domestic violence on his wife. Perhaps, the voice suggested, motherhood would have softened the blows, made them lighter, easier to bear.

It is the whisper that draws your attention to the speed of your ticking biological clock and reminds you—mercilessly—of the boxes of expected dreams you have not been able to tick.

It exaggerates your shame, spotlights your failures, and tells you where—and when—not to show up.

Slowly, it silences you until you can no longer hear your own voice. It steals your confidence and courage, poking relentlessly at everything that once mattered to you.

It dims the light in your eyes until all you can see is darkness—the kind of darkness that makes you look back and feel you made a terrible mistake choosing what was right over what merely felt good or appealing.

But here is the light.

You must know that not all waiting is demonic. Not all waiting is the result of poor decisions or mistakes.

While the invisible enemy chooses delay as a tool to weaken and mar you, the faithful and just God uses waiting to prune, refine, and realign your path.

You see this in friendships that stayed through thick and thin. You recognize it in family members who genuinely root for you. You discover that you have learned how to stand strong for yourself—even in a fire that burned, yet did not consume you.

Know this: waiting is a gift the Creator gives only to His warriors on earth. Not everyone is entrusted with this rare gift, because waiting—without the right posture and perspective—can be consuming.