Waiting Didn’t Mean Standing Still

I Didn’t Know What It Meant—So I Kept Going

After the morning of the chariots and Isaiah 60:1 encounter—an experience that marked a turning point I’m still learning to understand—I was filled with joy and a sudden release from grief. But alongside the relief came a quiet puzzle. A promise had been made, but no explanation followed. It felt significant. Weighty. I would have preferred to get started on it right away.

That uncertainty could have turned into frustration. Instead, the awe of the encounter itself was enough to hold onto. The delight of being seen and spoken to by God carried me farther than immediate answers ever could.

Naturally, I began to search. I turned to commentaries and Scripture indexes. I followed cross-references and read late into the evenings, looking for understanding. I wanted to know what it meant that “the glory of the Lord rises upon you.” I wanted to know what that looked like for me, personally, as a believer.

In that searching, I was drawn to passages like Ephesians 5, where Scripture speaks of moving from darkness into light, of being awakened, of learning to live as children of light and finding out what pleases the Lord.

For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light  (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord.  Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness…But everything exposed by the light becomes visible—and everything that is illuminated becomes a light.  This is why it is said:

“Wake up, sleeper,

rise from the dead,

and Christ will shine on you.”

-Ephesians 5:8-14 (emphasis my own)

I also revisited John 1:9-13, where Jesus is described as the Light from the beginning, the One through whom we become children of God.

The true light that gives light to everyone was coming into the world… to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God.
-John 1:9-13

Slowly, something was settled into place.

God had been marking a crossing. A waking. Not into perfection, but into light. Not into certainty, but into life. He was affirming that I had been drawn out of darkness and into His light, not by my own strength, but by His mercy. God had literally and spiritually woken me up to light out of the darkness. It was not a declaration of arrival. It was an acknowledgement of rescue.

For a long time, I assumed that one day—perhaps far off, perhaps soon—I would be called to declare Isaiah 60:1 over others in some clear, defined way. I imagined a future moment when the meaning would become obvious and the purpose unmistakable.

But as the years passed, something else became clear. God gave me the strength to resist my instinct to force the promise into action. And He gave me the maturity to not sit still and wait for the promise to arrive before I took another step.

I did not pause while waiting. The waiting was not empty; it was full of obedience.

In the months following that encounter, I attended a women’s Bible Study. Then I helped lead it. I served on the women’s ministry leadership team, then was asked to lead it. I helped start a women’s Sunday school class and also walked with that group for several years. My husband and I opened our home to a small group, which eventually grew into helping lead a church plant in our community. Along the way, we joined mission trips, supporting schools, medical clinics, children’s shelters, and walked alongside ministries far beyond our own walls.

Today, my path looks quieter but no less meaningful: coordinating fundraising efforts for an organization that serves orphans around the world, and returning to a first love of leading a small women’s Bible study rooted in fellowship and prayer.

I’ve never laid all that out at once before. Looking back, I’m overwhelmed by how faithfully God has led, step by step, without urgency or spectacle.

Waiting on God did not mean standing still. It meant continuing to find what pleases Him and doing it.

When people hear the story of Isaiah 60:1 and ask what it means, I still answer honestly: “I don’t know for sure.” I’m at peace with that now. I’ve learned that not knowing does not mean nothing is happening.

Perhaps the promise was never about a single future moment. Perhaps it was about learning to live as light—consistently, humbly, in ordinary places. Perhaps the declaration was being spoken through obedience rather than announcement.

I don’t yet know if there is more to come. I leave that in God’s hands.

What I do know is this: God’s will often unfolds in the middle of regular life, not just in dramatic encounters. Waiting on a promise is not passive. It is the kind of steady obedience that grows as we learn how discernment actually works in everyday life.  It is an active trust that keeps walking, keeps serving, keeps loving, even without clarity.

And sometimes, the revelation arrives not when we look ahead—but when we look back and realize how faithfully He has led us all along.