The workings of God are not related to our clocks; they are related to our crises. That’s why God doesn’t care if this is the last day you can buy that car on sale. It doesn’t bother God that it is the first day of summer or high noon or a quarter after seven or ten minutes to one in the morning. His timing is unrelated to Planet Earth’s clock time. So while waiting, look beyond the present.
The best way to do that is to pray! Make your life a life of prayer. Tell Him, in anguish if necessary, the pain of waiting. Express your panic. Tell Him you’re trapped. (Ask Him to hurry up, if that helps. He can handle it!) You don’t know how you can stay afloat much longer. In those moments, ask Him to help you see beyond the frustration and fear of the present.
The surprises in store are not merely ironic or coincidental; they are sovereignly designed. While anticipating, trust Him for justice. You may not live to see that justice, but it will come. He is a just God; you know He is. So trust Him for it.
I have found while in the fog that my great temptation is either to doubt or to deny—maybe they’re the same thing—to doubt or to deny that He is even at work. But, more often than not, when something looks like it’s the absolute end, it’s really just the beginning. I can see this later, when I look back.
Esther, our heroine, is a lovely model to follow. And her story is certainly one to remember. But the best focus of all? God Himself. How perfectly He works, how sovereignly He controls, and how remarkably He changes the face of things once He moves in. A queen who was passive is actively in charge. A king who was duped is now fully informed. An enemy who was only moments away from exterminating a nation is now an object of scorn. And those ghastly gallows, built for a Jew named Mordecai, will soon suffocate the body of a Gentile named Haman.
When will we ever learn? At the precise moment when it will have its greatest impact, God ceases His silence and sovereignly makes His move. And when He does, life is full of surprises.
by Chuck Swindoll