The Posture We Choose When We Don’t Know What God Is Doing Next

I've spent a lot of mornings sitting on a dock in Muskoka this summer.

Coffee beside me. Bible open. Lake in front of me. Quiet enough to think and enough time to actually sit with what I've been reading instead of rushing on to the next thing.

I came here at the beginning of August with some things on my heart that I didn't have answers for.

I wish I could say that after weeks of prayer and quiet mornings with God, I'm leaving with those answers.

I'm not.

The circumstances haven't necessarily changed.

But somewhere along the way, I realized that perhaps these mornings weren't about God showing me what happens next or how He was going to go to battle for me.

Maybe He was teaching me how to stand while I wait for the answers.

Again and again, the same themes began appearing.

STAND FIRM

It started with 2 Chronicles 20.

Jehoshaphat was facing something far beyond his ability to control. He didn't have the resources to solve what was in front of him, but he knew where to keep his focus:

“We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.”

— 2 Chronicles 20:12 (NIV)

Then came the instruction to take their positions and stand firm. (2 Chronicles 20:17)

Those words stayed with me.

And then they appeared again.

“Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong.”

— 1 Corinthians 16:13 (NIV)

Then again:

“You too, be patient and stand firm, because the Lord’s coming is near.”

— James 5:8 (NIV)

And on a Sunday morning, sitting in church between those dock mornings, I heard the same message again:

Stand firm. Be steadfast. Be unswerving.

When something keeps appearing like that, I pay attention.

Then, a few weeks later, Exodus 14 showed up in my morning devotion.

The Israelites had the Egyptian army coming toward them and nowhere to go. They were terrified. And once again came words that by this point had become very familiar to me:

“Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the LORD will bring you today.”

— Exodus 14:13 (NIV)

Followed immediately by:

“The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.”

— Exodus 14:14 (NIV)

There it was again.

Stand firm.

Be still.

Let God fight the battle that belongs to Him.

At first, standing firm sounded like an instruction to simply hold my ground.

But as the weeks went on, I started to understand there was more to it.

Sometimes standing firm means recognizing what God has actually given me to do, doing that faithfully, and then refusing to grab responsibility that doesn't belong to me simply because waiting makes me uncomfortable.

At times I have prayed.

I have sought wisdom.

I have done what is mine to do.

And there is nothing more for me to fix.

Sometimes standing firm looks like doing absolutely nothing more.

Not because I don't care.

Not because I've given up.

But because the next move isn't mine.

SEEK COUNSEL

Another theme began appearing: counsel.

“Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.”

— Proverbs 15:22 (NIV)

Then again in Proverbs 20:

“Plans are established by seeking advice...”

— Proverbs 20:18 (NIV)

Standing firm doesn't mean becoming so convinced of our own position that we stop listening.

Wisdom asks questions.

Wisdom invites people we trust to speak into our lives.

Wisdom is willing to hear something we may not particularly want to hear.

And ultimately, wisdom recognizes that we don't always see our own blind spots.

That was something we had already begun doing before I sat down on the dock that first morning. We had sought counsel from people we trusted. We had prayed. We had listened.

And then there came a point when there wasn't another conversation to have or another problem for us to solve.

There was simply a position to hold.

DON'T RUSH

This may be one of the hardest parts for me.

I like answers.

I like plans.

I like knowing where things are going.

Waiting leaves open loops, and everything in me wants to close them.

But perhaps not knowing isn't evidence that something has gone wrong.

“A person’s steps are directed by the LORD. How then can anyone understand their own way?”

— Proverbs 20:24 (NIV)

Maybe I'm not supposed to understand the whole road yet.

Maybe I'm only supposed to be faithful with the part I can see.

The next conversation.

The next prayer.

The next decision.

The next opportunity to love someone well.

The next small act of obedience.

And then trust God with the part of the road that disappears around the bend.

These quiet mornings on the lake have given me a lot of time to think about what it means to wait and how I'm going to wait.

One of my first mornings here, five loons appeared on the lake.

Two adults and three young ones.

On another morning, I watched what looked very much like a flight lesson. Loons are heavier birds and need quite a bit of distance to get themselves airborne, so they run across the surface of the water, building up speed until finally they lift off.

The two adults were there, and I watched as the young loons learned.

I'd never seen this before.

Then, a week later, I watched four of them flying above the trees on the other side of the lake.

Three young loons and one adult.

The awkward running across the water I'd watched earlier had become flight.

They were soaring.

And this morning, on what will likely be my last dock morning of the summer, there was just one adult loon.

It wasn't calling.

It wasn't fishing.

It wasn't trying to get anywhere.

It simply floated past me on the water.

And suddenly I thought about the progression I'd been watching all summer.

Five together.

Parents teaching their young.

Then watching them fly.

And finally, one adult loon simply floating on the lake.

I don't know that God was giving me some grand spiritual lesson through the loons. Maybe He simply gave me something beautiful to notice while I waited.

But I couldn't help seeing something of my own season reflected back at me.

There comes a time when you've taught what you can teach. You've loved, guided, protected and prepared. And eventually, the people you've spent so much time caring for have to take what they've been given and learn to fly on their own.

You don't stop loving them.

You don't stop praying for them.

But you do have to let them fly.

Maybe part of standing firm is knowing when you've done your part.

After a summer of thinking so much about when to speak, when to be quiet, when to stand firm and when to simply be still, there was something fitting about ending these mornings watching one lone loon simply float by.

I think, sometimes it's okay to simply be still for a while.

IT'S ABOUT POSTURE

Looking back over these quiet mornings on the dock, I can finally see the thread.

They weren't about answers.

They were about posture.

Seek counsel.

Don't rush.

Be patient.

Stand firm.

Be still.

Praise God while you wait.

Trust Him with the part of the road you cannot see yet.

None of those things require my circumstances to change.

And perhaps that's what I'm beginning to understand about waiting.

Waiting isn't simply the empty space between the prayer and the answer.

God is working in that space.

Maybe the situation will change.

Maybe the answer will come.

Maybe the road ahead will eventually make sense.

But in the meantime, God can change me while I wait.

I came into this summer wanting God to show me what He was going to change. But, I think part of what He wanted to show me was what He was changing in me.

I still don't have all the answers I came here wanting. Some of the circumstances I've prayed about are still exactly as they were.

But I'm not exactly where I was.

I think that's part of what God does in the waiting.

Before He changes the circumstances—or even if He doesn't change them in the way we expect—He can work on the posture of the person standing in the middle of them.

And perhaps that's why I can wait without knowing how the story ends.

“For the LORD is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations.”

— Psalm 100:5 (NIV)

His goodness isn't dependent on my circumstances turning out the way I hope they will.

His character isn't changing while my circumstances are uncertain.

So I don't need to know what He's doing next in order to be faithful today.

I can seek wisdom.

I can take the step He's put in front of me.

I can stand firm when there isn't a step to take.

I can be still when the battle isn't mine to fight.

I can praise Him.

And I can trust Him with everything I still cannot see.

Maybe standing firm isn't about holding onto the outcome I want.

Maybe it's about holding onto God while I wait to see what He does.