Changed in the Waiting (Reflections on Exodus 32-33)
We like quick stories.
The sudden promotion, the immediate breakthrough, or the overnight success. But most of life does not happen quickly.
Most of the time, we change gradually, and then suddenly.
A friendship deepens one conversation at a time. A marriage grows stronger through a thousand small acts of love. A habit becomes part of us through choices that barely seem important in the moment. And our hearts can drift towards or away from God in exactly the same way.
Little by little.
Gradually, and then suddenly.
The Israelites did not wake up one morning and decide to replace God with a golden calf.
First came the grumbling, followed by fear and impatience. They worried about whether there would be enough food and water. They questioned whether Moses would return from the mountain top. They grew tired of waiting on a God they could not physically see. And so they wanted to make something they could control.
The golden calf appeared suddenly in Exodus 32, but the movement toward idolatry had been happening slowly.
Gradually, and then suddenly.
The same is true for us. A small compromise becomes a pattern. A passing frustration becomes bitterness. A desire for approval becomes a need we cannot live without. We rarely announce that we are moving away from God. We simply take one small step at a time until one day we look up and realize how far we have traveled.
But just like we can move away from God little by little, we can also move toward God in the same slow but persistent way. Little by little.
Take off the ornaments.
After the golden calf, God told the Israelites to remove their ornaments. In the ancient world, ornaments were tied to idol worship and so taking them off was about more than simply changing their appearance. It was an admission: we have trusted something other than God.
Tim Keller once described an idol as “anything you require in addition to God to be happy.”
An idol can be a relationship, a job, a reputation, a bank balance, or the approval of a particular person. It can be anything that makes us say, “I have God in my life, but I also have to have that—or I will not be satisfied.”
What are the ornaments you are holding onto?
What promise of security, comfort, or control has quietly become a requirement?
Sometimes moving toward God begins by first naming what has been drawing us away from God.
Who are you becoming in the waiting?
The Israelites struggled to wait. So do we.
We live in a world where we can ask AI for a 5-year life plan before our coffee gets cold. We can replace a difficult relationship with online connections that are easier to begin—and easier to quit. We can numb pain with shopping, alcohol, video games, streaming, scrolling, or whatever else helps us avoid silence for a while.
““We are being formed into an impatient people.””
We are being formed into an impatient people.
We want discernment at the speed of our Wi-Fi and life answers at the speed of our ChatGPT membership level.
But God does not always work at our speed.
And we are changed in the waiting.
It is not only what we are waiting for that matters—a new job, healing, a repaired relationship, a better home, enough money, love, hope, or joy. It is also about the people we become while we wait.
Waiting can form trust in us. It can expose what we have been using to avoid God. It can teach us to listen, to loosen our grip, and to receive today as a gift instead of treating it like a hallway to somewhere better.
Waiting can also make us bitter, distracted, and desperate for control.
For better or for worse, we are being changed.
Little by little.
Tend the fire.
Some people treat their spiritual life like a thermostat: set the temperature once or twice a year and forget about it in between. But faith is more like a fire.
A fire that is ignored will eventually go out. A coal removed from the rest of the fire slowly grows cold. Spiritual life needs attention—not flashy attention, but ordinary, repeated faithfulness.
Moses kept going to the tent of meeting. And Joshua stayed there even after Moses left! Neither could control the timing of God’s presence, but they could choose to keep showing up.
We can make the same choice.
Keep showing up.
Read Scripture with a friend. Pray alone. Gather with other followers of Jesus. Pray more. Serve someone who needs help. Practice silence long enough to notice what is happening in your soul. Pray with others. Open God’s Word again tomorrow. Then do it again the day after that.
These practices are not ways to force God to move. They are ways of placing ourselves where we can pay attention to the God who is already moving toward us.
There will be days when it does not feel like much is happening. God may seem quiet. The journey may feel long. Your prayers may feel repetitive. Keep leaning in.
Little by little by little.
Do not go without God.
Later in Exodus 33, Moses says to God, “If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here.”
Moses understood that arriving without God would not be success.
The promised land, without the presence of God, would not be enough.
That is a question worth carrying into our own decisions:
Am I only asking God to bless where I want to go, or am I willing to go wherever God’s presence leads?
You may be waiting for an answer right now. You may be holding an ornament that is harder to remove than you expected. You may feel like the fire has grown dim.
Start small.
Tell the truth about what is pulling your heart away from God. Take one step toward God today. Pray one honest prayer. Read one passage slowly. Call one trusted friend. Serve one person in front of you.
Then do it again tomorrow.
We move away from God little by little. And, by grace, we move toward God little by little too—only to discover that God has never stopped moving toward us.
So keep leaning in.
Stay close to the fire.
And do not go anywhere without the presence of God going with you.
You will be changed in the process. Gradually, and then suddenly.
