Trusting the Slow Work of God

I've been in a state of limbo for a year now as I've been waiting for my house to sell.  And now I've fallen even deeper into limbo as I'm waiting to relist it in hopes of a fresh start on the market. 

Until now, I didn't know that there were layers to limbo.  There are, just so you know.  

Over the past year, I've learned more about patience and trusting in God than I have in my entire life.  It hasn't always been pretty.  I've had plenty of days when I felt lower than low and filled with desperation.  

But what I've learned is that I don't have to spend my waiting days curled up on the couch, ordering DoorDash, and feeling sorry for myself.  

Patience, as it turns out, is an active kind of thing.  Practicing it doesn't mean you have to sit still, although sometimes being still might be what is required.  We can be active in our patience while we are waiting during times of uncertainty.  

Recently, I stumbled across the following quote by the 20th-century theologian Pierre Teilhard de Chardin that speaks directly to this: 

“Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something
unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through
some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.”
— Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

As I stated earlier, patience is not simply waiting—it is an act of trust. Teilhard de Chardin’s words invite us to honor the unfinished nature of our lives, to resist the urge to rush toward outcomes we cannot yet see. 

In uncertain times, when the future feels foggy and our hearts ache for clarity, these words remind us that even God’s creative work unfolds in slow, deliberate stages. The same Spirit that hovered over the chaos in Genesis still hovers over the unformed spaces of our lives, shaping something beautiful we cannot yet name.

A.A. Milne, the creator and author of Winnie the Pooh (one of my favorites), captured this truth with gentle wisdom: “Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there someday.” 

Rivers don’t strive or sprint. They move faithfully, flowing around obstacles, carving paths through rock, and trusting gravity to carry them where they need to go. Their pace may seem slow, but their persistence transforms landscapes.

Scripture echoes this call to patient trust. In Psalm 37:7 we read, “Be still before the Lord and wait patiently for him.” And James 5:7 urges believers to be patient “like the farmer who waits for the land to yield its valuable crop.” Growth, whether in soil or soul, takes time. Even Jesus’ own ministry followed a rhythm of waiting—thirty quiet years before three transformative ones.

Patience, then, is not passive. It’s the discipline of staying faithful while the story unfolds. It’s choosing to keep walking, loving, creating, and praying even when the results are unseen. It’s trusting that instability is not failure—it’s the sacred ground of becoming.

Prayer
God of all time, teach me to trust your slow work. When I am tempted to rush ahead, remind me that you are already at work in what I cannot yet see. Grant me the grace to move like a river—steadily, gently, faithfully—toward your good future. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. Where in your life are you being called to trust God’s slow work right now?

2. What practices help you stay grounded when you feel impatient or uncertain?

3. How might you redefine patience as a form of active faith rather than passive waiting?