Standing in Faith

There are days when disappointment feels like an uninvited guest who refuses to leave—days when the delay between hope and breakthrough feels endless. We all know that space. The waiting room of faith. The “not yet” moments where prayers hang in the air unanswered, and the temptation to give up whispers just a little louder than hope.

But what I’ve learned—what life keeps teaching me—is that disappointment doesn’t have to define me. Delay doesn’t have to defeat me. I may not be able to escape the setbacks or the waiting, but I can choose not to live there. I don’t have to pitch a tent in frustration or let discouragement be the final word.

Because faith doesn’t deny the waves—it speaks to them.

Faith looks disappointment in the eye and says, “You’re not where my story ends.” It looks at delay and says, “This is not denial—it’s preparation.” It looks at every closed door and every long night and still dares to whisper, “God’s not finished yet.”

And that’s what I’m choosing.

I’m choosing to rise to the moment. To push back against the doubts that try to drag me down. To stand on what I know is true—even when I can’t see it yet.

Because I’ve learned something powerful in the waiting: faith doesn’t need evidence to move. It doesn’t require the storm to stop before it believes in peace. Faith doesn’t wait for the walls to fall—it walks around them anyway, trusting that God will move in His perfect time.

When life feels uncertain—when it seems like the ground beneath me is shifting—I remind myself that faith isn’t about seeing the whole picture. It’s about trusting the Painter.

I don’t need to see it to believe it. I don’t need to have it in my hands to know it’s coming. The One who has carried me through every valley hasn’t brought me this far to leave me standing alone in the middle of one.

So I will stand in faith.
Even when fear tries to convince me otherwise.
Even when the answer hasn’t come.
Even when it feels like everything is still standing still.

Because faith doesn’t live in feelings—it lives in truth.

And the truth is, I’ve seen too much of God’s faithfulness to start doubting Him now. I’ve seen prayers answered in ways I never expected, healing come when hope felt gone, peace flood in when panic tried to take over. I’ve seen light show up in the darkest corners of our lives—not because everything suddenly got easy, but because God showed up inthe hard.

That’s what faith does. It reminds me that even if the storm doesn’t stop, I can still have peace. Even if the mountain doesn’t move, I can still climb. Even if the answer doesn’t come the way I wanted, I can still trust the One who holds the plan.

When I stand in faith, I’m not pretending everything’s fine—I’m declaring that even if it isn’t, God is still good. I’m not walking by sight, because sight can be deceiving. I’m walking by something stronger—something steadier.

I’m walking by faith.

Faith says, “I believe before I see.”
Faith says, “I’ll praise You in the hallway before the door opens.”
Faith says, “Even if it takes longer than I hoped, I’ll still trust You.”

And that’s the kind of faith I want to live by. The kind that doesn’t need constant reassurance, the kind that can weather disappointment, the kind that rises every single time life tries to knock me down.

Because I’ve learned that disappointment is temporary—but God’s faithfulness is not. Delay is frustrating—but it’s never wasted. When I look back, I can see how every pause was a part of His purpose, every delay held a hidden lesson, and every season of waiting was shaping me into someone stronger.

So I will rise.
I will speak to the waves.
I will silence the lies that tell me it’s over.

I will remember that faith is not about ignoring the storm—it’s about trusting that the One who calmed the sea still calms my soul.

There will always be things in life I can’t control. There will always be prayers that take longer than I want. But there will never be a day when faith doesn’t matter—when hope isn’t worth holding onto—when God stops being who He is.

So no, I can’t escape disappointment. I can’t always avoid delay. But I can choose my dwelling place. And I choose faith. I choose to believe that God’s timing is perfect even when I don’t understand it. I choose to walk forward even when I can’t see the path clearly. I choose to live with the kind of hope that defies logic—hope that trusts in miracles I haven’t yet seen.

And maybe that’s what true faith really is—
Not the absence of doubt, but the decision to believe anyway.
Not waiting for perfect conditions, but moving forward in imperfect ones.
Not demanding answers, but resting in the assurance that God is the answer.

So today, I stand. I walk. I live—in faith.

And when the next wave comes, I’ll speak to it again, not with fear, but with confidence:
“I don’t need to see it to believe it. My God is already making a way.”

Because this I know—faith always finds the light, even when the world looks dark.
And as long as I keep walking by faith, I’ll never be walking alone.