Waiting On The Lord

I. When Heaven Seems Silent

The Cry for Connection

Dr. Edmund Stanley, in From Death to Birth, shares a haunting verse from a poem called “Victor: A Ballad.” Victor’s world has collapsed—his wife has betrayed him, his heart is in ashes. The verse tells how he walked through the village streets, out past the last houses to the rubbish heap at the edge of town. Standing there alone, staring at the sunset, his tears spilling down, he cried, “Are You in heaven, Father?”—and the sky seemed to answer, “Address not known.”

Most of us have been there. The crisis that shatters the night. The phone call you dread. The loss you never saw coming. The sickness that lingers. The supports you trusted suddenly crumble—and you whisper into the silence, “Father…are You there?”

And heaven seems quiet. You wait…and you wait…and you wait.

Your prayers come back unopened, stamped “Address Unknown.”

How do you survive divine delay?

How do you hold on when nothing moves?

The story of Lazarus gives us the answer. In John 11 we find direction for living through God’s delays.

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The Setting of Divine Delay

> “Now a certain man was sick, named Lazarus, of Bethany… Therefore his sisters sent unto Him, saying, Lord, behold, he whom Thou lovest is sick. When Jesus heard that, He said, ‘This sickness is not unto death, but for the glory of God…’ Now Jesus loved Martha, and her sister, and Lazarus. When He had heard therefore that he was sick, He abode two days still in the same place where He was.”

— John 11:1–6

The disciples were torn between sorrow and confusion. They knew how close Jesus was to that family. Bethany had been His retreat—where laughter and friendship soothed the weariness of ministry. Surely, they thought, when He hears that Lazarus is dying, He’ll go at once.

But He doesn’t. He stays. Two days.

No explanation. No visible concern. Just silence and delay.

And the disciples’ hearts filled with questions they didn’t dare speak:

“Doesn’t He care? Has He forgotten them? Why wait?”

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1 – Divine Delays Are Difficult to Understand

Let’s be honest—waiting on God is hard.

There’s a reason for that: delay goes against our nature.

We live in a culture addicted to instant. Push a button—light appears. Push another—music plays, doors open, voices answer. One-hour cleaners. Two-minute car washes. Overnight shipping. We don’t just live fast—we worship fast. We have cultivated the itch for the instantaneous.

Someone once joked that if all the cars in America were lined up in a straight line, 90 percent would immediately pull out to pass.

That’s us. No wonder we struggle when God doesn’t hurry.

But the Bible’s vocabulary is filled with one word that grates on the modern ear—wait.

“Wait on the Lord.”

“Wait patiently for Him.”

“Though it tarry, wait for it.”

The psalmists said it, the prophets repeated it, Paul echoed it.

Never once did God promise that waiting would be easy.

We need to settle it: divine delays are hard to understand.

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2 – Delays Are Part of God’s Plan

Verse 14 says:

> “Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead. And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe.”

Strange words—“I am glad I was not there.”

But Jesus was revealing something deeper: there was design in the delay.

Ellen White put it beautifully:

> “Christ had not only the loved ones at Bethany to think of; He had the training of His disciples to consider… For their sake He permitted Lazarus to die.”

What looked like neglect was actually mercy with a mission.

When Jesus waits, it’s never wasted time.

Usually, when life stops moving, we panic. We assume something’s wrong—God’s late, or we missed His signal. But in God’s plan there is no delay.

Human delay means late.

Divine delay means timed perfectly.

We cry, “Lord, I need You now!”

But heaven knows when now would destroy us—or when later will save us.

We live in a thin slice of time. God sees from eternity. We want release; He’s shaping revelation. And because we can’t see the whole picture, we misread His silence as absence.

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The Chemistry Set – A Child’s Perspective

When I was a boy, I received a chemistry set—my prized possession. I’d spend hours mixing mysterious powders in little glass tubes in the basement of our hospital building.

One night, a burglar broke in. The alarms screamed through the halls. Doors were pried open, medicine cabinets smashed, cash drawers emptied. I looked up at my father and said anxiously, “I hope they didn’t get my chemistry set!”

He smiled faintly and said, “I hope they didn’t.”

But his mind was on far greater things—the damage, the danger, the loss.