Let My Waiting Be Worship

1 Thessalonians 2:23–24
Paul didn’t speak of miracles when he wrote to the Thessalonians. No signs, no wonders, no healings. Just his life—offered plainly, without spectacle—as the vessel of the gospel. That unsettles me in a good way.
I’ve spent so much time wrestling with the hunger for something extraordinary. The ache for God to show up in ways that silence doubt, vindicate suffering, or make the invisible visible. I’ve prayed for signs, for clarity, for something unmistakable. But Paul reminds me: miraculous things don’t last. They flicker, then fade. What endures is a life—ordinary, faithful, unoccupied by idols, turned toward God, waiting for Jesus.
This morning, I feel the tension between longing and living. I want to be faithful, but I also want to be seen. I want my story to matter, but I don’t want to perform it. There’s a quiet courage in choosing a life that doesn’t demand attention, but bears witness in its steadiness.
I’m asking:
What idols still occupy me—comfort, certainty, reputation?
Where am I serving out of habit instead of presence?
What does it mean to wait—not passively, but with hope that reshapes my days?
I don’t need to be supernatural. I need to be honest. Present. Free.
Let my life be the testimony. Let my waiting be worship.
Let the gospel be known not through spectacle, but through the way I show up—in grief, in joy, in silence, in service.
If Paul’s life was the message, maybe mine can be too. Not polished. Not perfect. But offered.