Wait – Isaiah 40:27–31

Isaiah 40:31 (NIV)
But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah spoke to a people who were tired of waiting. Politically threatened, spiritually worn down, and emotionally exhausted, they had begun to say—out loud—that God no longer saw them. Their complaint was simple: He’s ignoring us. Isaiah’s response that I’m paraphrasing here was just as direct: Stop it.

God had not forgotten them. He was not unaware of Assyria, of empires, or of their fear. But His answer was not immediate relief—it was a call to wait with faith. Strength would come. Rescue would come. But it would come in God’s time, not theirs.

Isaiah 40 has always had a way of reordering perspective. Kings, nations, and epochs rise and fall, yet God remains eternal and untouched. What feels overwhelming to us is momentary when set against God’s timelessness. That doesn’t mean our afflictions don’t matter. God sees them. He sees us walking through them. But Scripture is clear: God values faith more than fast relief.

Faith is formed while waiting. It cannot be rushed. It cannot be manufactured. It grows only when we trust God in the space between promise and fulfillment.

That waiting is hard—especially when we want God to act decisively and immediately. Faithful endurance doesn’t come naturally. But Isaiah reminds us that weariness is not the end of the story. Those who hope in the Lord do not stay depleted forever. Strength is renewed. Perspective is restored. Movement resumes—first walking, then running, and finally soaring.

God sees. God loves. And even when He seems slow, He is never absent.


Incidentally, I recently was playing with AI, and had it make a blues song based on Isaiah 40. It isn’t my singing. It’s not my guitar. Heck, it isn’t even my lyrics. But, I think it’s pretty good. Enjoy.

Marathon – Philippians 4:10–13

“I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:13 NIV)

Philippians 4:13 is often quoted as a declaration of strength, achievement, or victory. But in its original context, Paul is saying something quieter and far more demanding. He is not boasting about what he can accomplish. He is testifying to what he can endure.

Paul writes from a place of gratitude—not because his circumstances are comfortable, but because the Philippians’ care reminds him he is not forgotten. He then makes a powerful claim: he has learned how to live faithfully whether he has plenty or nothing at all. This is not about self-sufficiency or bravado. It is about resilience rooted in Christ.

For many of us, especially in a culture that prizes action and results, it is easy to assume that strength is for doing big things. We admire momentum. We value speed. We want progress that looks impressive. But Paul reframes strength as something God supplies not just for forward motion, but for making it through the long-haul.

Life is not a sprint. It is a long, uneven race. Some seasons feel effortless—wind at your back, ground sloping downhill. Other seasons are grinding, slow, and stripped of comfort. Those are the moments Paul has in mind. When resources are thin. When answers are delayed. When obedience requires waiting instead of acting.

Christ’s strength shows up there—not always to remove the hardship, but to carry us through it. Endurance is not weakness. It is often the most demanding form of faith. And it is precisely in those grueling stretches that reliance on Christ stops being theoretical and becomes necessary.

If you find yourself tired, stalled, or simply trying to make it through, this passage is not telling you to try harder. It is reminding you where strength actually comes from. Not for show. Not for speed. But for faithful endurance, one step at a time.