The Blessin’ Behind the Door
Well, how’s it goin’, friend? Come slide yourself into that ol’ porch chair that leans like it’s prayin’ for early retirement ‘cause waitin’ on God can feel like watchin’ a lil’ ol’ proud rooster tryin’ to outsmart a slammin’ screen door. You pray. You hope. You stare at the sky like you’re waitin’ for biscuits to rain down straight outta’ Heaven like manna. An’ still nothing. But the Lord, why, He done works the way an ol’ mountain farmer works his fields. It may look real still on top, but right down underneath He’s churnin’ the soil, nudgin’ the roots, and settin’ up a harvest that would make the whole hillside look like it was smilin’ right back up at heaven.
Sometimes God’s silence feels like tryin’ to sweet‑talk a mule into ballet lessons. You tug. You plead. You push. You haggle an’ bargain tryin’ to promise things you know good and well you can’t even deliver. Yet Psalm 145:8-9 reminds us that God is real gracious, really compassionate, plumb slow to anger, and very rich in love. That there means even God’s “no” is dipped in His goodness. Hannah in First Samuel 1-3 thought she was waitin’ for a baby. God was preparin’ a prophet. She was watchin’ the clock. God was watchin’ a whole country.
An’, friend, sometimes the sweetest blessin’s come all wrapped up in the word “no”. Lookin’ back on things, I can see some o’ them there times when I prayed for things that really sparkled like a lil’ ol’ busy raccoon’s treasure pile. A relationship. A job. A big ol’ dream that looked shinier than a fresh‑polished tractor. If God had handed me those things, I would’ve wandered off like a lil’ ol’ squirrel that found a whole bucket of corn. Truth is, if the Lord had said, “Yes,” to some of the half‑baked, self-serving, silly, not‑even‑done‑in‑the‑middle prayers I’ve prayed, I sho-‘nuff’ wouldn’t be where I am today. I sho’-nuff wouldn’t have grown. I wouldn’t have learned to trust Him. I wouldn’t have discovered the deeper joy and peace He had waitin’ just for me. His “no” wasn’t rejection. It was redirection. His silence wasn’t absence. It was protection. Isaiah 55:8 reminds us that His thoughts are higher than ours, which explains why He sees the whole forest while we’re still squintin’ tryin’ to be seein’ the movements o’ just one lil’ ol’ confused chipmunk.
Waitin’ teaches us to cling tighter to Him like a lil’ ol’ possum clings to a persimmon branch in a big windstorm. It teaches us to trust His timin’ instead of comparin’ our lives to someone else’s life highlight reel. It teaches us that peace, the kind Jesus promised in John 14:27, is better than a quick “yes”. An’ right when we git to feelin’ worn thin, He whispers Isaiah 40:31 into our hearts tellin us, “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength.”
Lord, thank You for every “no” that protected me and every silence that shaped me. Thank You for not givin’ me the things that would have tripped me up or pulled me away from You. Help me trust Your timin’ when mine feels urgent. Strengthen my faith as I wait. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Well, my stars, friend, as you git back to your busy life today, ease right off this porch rememberin’ that God’s timin’ is not too slow. It’s real strategic. It’s real lovin’. It’s just perfect. Waitin’ may feel like watchin’ a sleepy ol’ cow trying’ to decide whether to stand up, but God is workin’ in ways you can’t always see. An’ when His answer finally arrives, it’ll fit you perfectly an’ be exacty what you need for your life’s story so much better than a pair of overalls sewn together by someone who already knew your exact measurements ‘a-fore you was ever born.
With joy,
Gwen
