Spotlight
Just Wait!
By Hannah Bemis
“The created world itself can hardly wait for what’s coming next. Everything in creation is being more or less held back. God reins it in until both creation and all the creatures are ready and can be released at the same moment into the glorious times ahead. Meanwhile, the joyful anticipation deepens” (Romans 8:19-21, MSG).
I have been feeling expectant for a while now. There has been a sense of anticipation, a thrill in the air that I cannot shake, though I do not know exactly what it is I am so looking forward to. I am not alone in this. My prayer group at church has been feeling it. My spiritual director and other Christian leaders I have spoken with are feeling it as well. I have even felt a shift in how I approach my workdays. Instead of dreading certain meetings or seemingly monotonous tasks on my to-do list, I have felt the Holy Spirit whispering, “But what if that meeting ends up being the best part of your day?” or “What if I’m about to use that task to change someone’s life?” I have had this renewed awareness that God can do anything and that each moment contains the potential for the supernatural.
We are seeing evidence of a new thing God is doing in places like Asbury and other pockets of revival across the country. There is new life in many of our churches, a new spark of passion in our worship, new creativity and courage in the ways we are serving the lost and vulnerable in our communities. But the anticipation I feel is more than the sum of any of these things. It is undefined, simply a deep conviction that we are on the cusp of something God has never done before. I am confident this feeling of anticipation is from God because it is not my norm to feel this way.
I am a fairly even-keeled, responsible person. I do not look forward to things as much as I prepare for them. I highly value diligence and accomplishment; I enjoy doing high quality work in an efficient manner (and with that last sentence, I just put every reader to sleep). Honestly, I have a love-hate relationship with my personality. I remember being young and having parents and teachers tell me over and over how responsible I was. Every time I heard it, my heart sank a little bit because their description of me was SO BORING, yet another part of me thrived on being thought of as responsible. It was who I was. It is who I am. You can trust me to do what needs to be done.
I have had to contend and make peace with this part of my personality again and again, particularly as I have raised my daughter Nora. Nora is ten, and her essence is the antithesis of my own. She prioritizes fun over responsibility . . . every time. She is a whirling mess of creativity and daydreams. If you tell her to do three things, she might do one. She is delightful and exasperating in equal measure, but you know what runs through her veins? Anticipation.
I wake up and ask, “What do we need to do today?” Nora wakes up and asks, “What do we get to do today?” She is always convinced there is something fun just around the corner. And if there isn’t, there should be. I realized a couple of years ago that her innocent question of anticipation was making me anxious. I would dread the moment she asked that question, afraid of disappointing her when there was nothing special on the agenda for the day. “Well, Nora, we have ahead of us another exciting day of dishes and errands!” I felt obligated to come up with something fun for Nora so I would have an acceptable answer to her question. My sense of responsibility was rearing up and as a result, I was taking her sense of joyful expectation and turning it into a burdensome expectation I needed to meet.
“It is so easy for our preparation to shift into an effort to control or manipulate what God is wanting to do. It is so easy for us to try to keep a handle on the Holy Spirit, as if we can contain in our hands the God who holds us in His own. Over-planning and over-thinking are not as productive as they seem, and they almost always steal the joy of anticipation.”
Today, I see the danger of the Church doing the same thing with the joyful anticipation the Lord is stirring up in this season. I recently received an invitation to a two-day conference at a local church that was entitled “Readying Ourselves for Revival.” The conference agenda described several sessions that reviewed and compared past revivals, pulling out the things they had in common, and compiling a list of ways Christian leaders can prepare their church for a similar revival. The conference seemed to be asking the question: What can we do to make this wonderful thing happen? I found myself asking questions in response: “Did the students at Asbury “make” the revival happen? Did they manipulate it in some way the rest of us did not see?
In our staff meetings at church, we have had conversations reflecting on revival, imagining what it might look like if it would happen in our church. We have asked questions like, “How will we steward a move of the Spirit? How will our worship team know they have permission to keep going rather than stop at the pre-planned time? How will our parents be released to get their kids, and how can we ensure that we don’t overburden our children’s ministry if people are caught up in worship that lasts for hours and hours?”
These are not bad questions! It is not bad to have a plan. Believe me, preparation is part of my DNA, and in certain seasons God calls His people to prepare, within measure. After all, He appointed a special prophet to “Prepare the way of the Lord” (Isaiah 40:3, NKJV). John the Baptist’s entire calling was preparation, and what an honorable calling that was.
If God calls us to prepare the way for revival, it will feel a lot more like “What do we get to do today?” than “What do we have to do today?” A readying sourced by the Holy Spirit will be joyful and expectant; it will not feel like a dreaded obligation or a joyless task list. It will feel something like the leaping in the womb that the pre-born preparer John experienced when he first sensed and anticipated the coming of his Lord. If we find ourselves antsy to prepare, we should continually check our hearts, asking ourselves what our motivation is. Is it to be good stewards, desiring to make space for God to move? Or is it to remain in control of the movement of God?
At a certain point, we must surrender and realize that this thing, whatever it is, is up to God. We have to be willing to say, as John did, “He must become greater; I must become less” (John 3:30, NIV). His plan must become elevated above our own. We can trust Him. He cares about the worship team and the kids and the parents, and He will resource and equip us for whatever it is that ends up happening.
It is so easy for our preparation to shift into an effort to control or manipulate what God is wanting to do. It is so easy for us to try to keep a handle on the Holy Spirit, as if we can contain in our hands the God who holds us in His own. Over-planning and over-thinking are not as productive as they seem, and they almost always steal the joy of anticipation.
Preparation, with the right heart and when we are called to do so, is an honorable thing. I think each of us is responsible to ask ourselves what God is calling us to do in this season. Is He calling us to prepare? Or has He called us to something different?
What I am sensing Him calling me to do is much less about preparation than I am comfortable with. It is the same simple command that Jesus gave His followers when He ascended to heaven in Acts 1:4 (NIV): Just wait. “Wait for the gift my Father promised, which you have heard me speak about . . . .”
In the time between that command and the coming of the Holy Spirit, we see that the disciples obeyed Christ’s command. They did not scurry around trying to make something happen or check items off a task list. They worshiped and they waited. That was all the preparation they needed.
There are certainly biblical moments of preparation, but there are also many biblical mandates to be still. In storms, in war, in times of anticipation, there is a consistent command to simply be still.
“Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for him” (Psalm 37:7, NIV).
Be still and anticipate – that is what I sense the Lord calling me to do. Anticipation is meant to be delicious. It is a gift all in itself. We can rest in that gift, enjoying this season of waiting expectantly and knowing that our hope will never be disappointed. The outcome is on God’s shoulders. If He gives us something specific to do in preparation for what He is about to do, then of course let’s obey Him. But let’s not put a burden on our shoulders that we were never meant to carry. Let’s be expectant without placing unnecessary expectations on ourselves, on others, or even on God. He is so much bigger than our impressive expectations, and I believe He’s about to do something we’ve never seen before.
Below are three questions for you to chew on as you reflect on this subject with the Lord:
1. What might God be about to do in your life? In your church? In your family?
2. What is the one thing you are dreading most, least looking forward to today or this week? What if God is about to use that thing, that meeting, that moment to shift the Kingdom or to change a life?
3. In this season, do you sense God primarily calling you to prepare or to be still and wait?
About the Author
Hannah Bemis lives in Spokane, Washington, with her husband, Jordan, and their three kids. She graduated with a Christian Counseling degree from New Hope Christian College in Eugene, Oregon, and earned her Master of Arts in Teaching from George Fox University near Portland, Oregon. Hannah is a communicator, and has worked as a teacher, writer, speaker, and most recently as a pastor. She serves as the community pastor at Turning Point Open Bible Church in Spokane and on Open Bible’s Pacific Region Board of Directors. Hannah is passionate about Jesus, prayer, and helping people and the Church become who they were designed to be.
Ruth Brauer spent decades wondering about the brother she never got to know. Born with Down Syndrome in the 1960s, he’d been sent away with little explanation, and she was discouraged from asking questions. After years of dead ends, a series of connections only God could have orchestrated led to the reunion she’d been praying for. Sixty years after his birth, Ruth finally saw her brother for the first time.
It was March 1960. Ruth was about to turn seven when her baby brother was born on March 8th at Iowa Methodist Hospital. The excitement of finally having a brother to join her and her three sisters quickly turned to confusion as she was unable to meet him. Later, she learned he had Down Syndrome and that doctors had advised her parents to place him in a care facility at the nearby Woodward State Hospital.
“Back in the sixties, that’s just what you did,” Ruth shared. “But I know it tore my parents apart.”
Questions about Alan were shut down. Ruth didn’t know where he was or even his exact birth date.
“I always wondered about him, but I’d get in trouble when I asked.”
Even without knowing him, Ruth had always felt drawn to him. That compassion shaped much of her life. After being invited to Journey Church in 2016 by a friend, Ruth was especially moved by the church’s outreach events for children with special needs. As a barber, her favorite clients were those with special needs, and she also volunteered for years with the Des Moines Special Olympics.
That’s where the first breakthrough came.
One day, she struck up a deeper conversation with a fellow volunteer named Ray. He mentioned he had worked at Woodward State Hospital starting in 1959. Ruth’s attention snapped into focus.
“My brother was there in 1960! His name was Alan Politsch.”
Ray’s reaction was immediate. His eyes widened and he began to walk away.
“Wait—what did I say?” Ruth called after him.
I had my hand on the table, and suddenly he was holding it.
“I’m not allowed to talk to you,” he replied. “Your parents banned me from talking to you.”
Still, she pressed him for one thing: a birthdate.
“Please, my parents are gone. I just want to find my brother.”
Before the day ended, Ray quietly gave her the month and day. It was enough to start, but not enough to get through the wall of privacy protections. Every group home she contacted turned her away.
Years passed.
Then another door opened—this time at a food pantry. Ruth shared her story with a volunteer named Bob, who offered to connect her with someone in the state department.
“They may not even call you,” he warned.
But they did.
The woman on the phone didn’t give her name, but simply said, “Bob said I needed to hear your story.” Ruth told her everything she knew: names, dates, places, family history. Weeks later, the phone rang again.
“Hi, this is Michelle,” the voice said. “I’m Alan’s guardian.”
Tears falling, Ruth began to speak.
“I don’t want to take anything from you. I just want to know he’s okay… maybe see a picture. And someday, maybe meet him.”
As she spoke, Ruth’s phone began to ping. Michelle was sending photos.
The call came in 2021, but it would take almost two years to build enough trust for a visit.
In August of 2023, Ruth was invited to a staff meeting at Alan’s care facility. As she sat in the room with nine other employees staring at her, Michelle walked into the room, Alan beside her, and guided him to the seat right next to Ruth.
I always felt like he was close by,” Ruth said. “I just didn’t know he was five miles away my whole life.
“He kept looking at me, nodding, with this little crooked smile,” Ruth said. “I had my hand on the table, and suddenly he was holding it.”
A nurse watching over video spoke up: “He knows you’re his sister.”
The bond was immediate and mutual.
“I always felt like he was close by,” Ruth said. “I just didn’t know he was five miles away my whole life.”
Since that day, they’ve spent birthdays and holidays together.
“He’s the best,” she said. “He fits right under my arm—he’s tiny. He loves Santa, the color red, Coke, and sunglasses.”
But the reunion has come with weight, too. Now 66, Alan’s health is declining, and Ruth has been asked to help plan his funeral.
“I just found him,” she said. “And now I’m helping plan his funeral… But he’s mine. He’s my baby brother. The one I waited for when I was seven.”
Looking back, Ruth continues to uncover the fingerprints of God. Ray, the man who first gave her Alan’s birthdate, later shared that he had cared for Alan during his first sixteen years at the hospital.
What are the odds?
When asked what this journey has taught her, Ruth doesn’t hesitate:
“Patience, persistence, prayer, and people.” That’s what it took to find her brother, and it’s what the Lord provided along the way.
Some stories don’t unfold quickly. Many of them take time, and it’s only later that we realize how God was working in our waiting. Ruth’s story serves as a reminder that no prayer is forgotten, no relationship is beyond reach, and that even in life’s chapters that feel long or uneventful, God is still writing.
About the Author
Hannah Bemis currently serves as the editor and director of Message of the Open Bible. She always wanted to do too many things when she grew up, and God has been kind enough to let her do most of them in different seasons. After seasons of mothering, teaching, writing, and staff pastoring, Hannah’s most recent adventure is planting and pastoring College Street Church in Newberg, Oregon, with her husband, Jordan. After Jesus and all her favorite people, she spends the remainder of her passion on pizza and dark chocolate in equal measure.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9 NIV).
There is a quiet invitation woven through these words – an invitation into constant, total dependence on God. We often imagine maturity as having our act together, managing our lives with unshakable strength. But in God’s kingdom, maturity looks nothing like self-reliance. It looks like surrender.
… in God’s kingdom, maturity looks nothing like self-reliance. It looks like surrender.
Just as valleys are watered with rain and become fruitful while lofty mountains remain dry, so it is with our hearts. The low places – the humbling, honest valleys – are where God’s grace pools and grows us. The heights of self-confidence, the illusions that we’ve got everything under control, stay barren.
Grace is not just God’s favor; it is His love set in motion toward us. When Paul begged God to remove the thorn in his life, God didn’t take it away. He gave Paul something far more powerful: grace. Sometimes relief comes by His removing the burden, but sometimes God strengthens the shoulders that carry it.
This past year, I’ve walked through my own valleys in ways I could never have anticipated. An abnormal mammogram led to surgery, which revealed breast cancer. By God’s miraculous hand, the tumor was removed completely, with clear margins and no spread although the tumor was dangerously close to my lymph nodes – a reminder of God’s perfect timing, protection, and faithfulness.
But the challenges didn’t end there. Amid cancer treatment, autoimmune flare-ups, and the toll on my body, I experienced alarming numbness on the left side of my face, suddenly losing strength in my left arm and leg. A trip to the ER revealed a nearly blocked right carotid artery, a tear likely caused by a fall I’d taken months prior, and a blood clot that could have caused a massive stroke.
Yet in the middle of chaos as we prepared for worst case scenarios, God’s grace showed up. Within a day of their being detected, scans revealed that both the clot and tear were gone. Every doctor involved was astonished. I was walking, speaking, and moving with minimal effects – a miracle too clear to dismiss.
In these moments, I’ve learned that we don’t truly trust God’s grace until we first admit we are insufficient. It’s easier to believe in grace for the past or the future. But grace for this moment, right here, in the pressing reality of fear, pain, and uncertainty, requires a present-tense, radical faith.
God didn’t just supplement my strength; He became my strength. He reminded me that the thorn doesn’t defeat us; it becomes the doorway through which His glory steps in. My husband, family, friends, and the countless prayers lifted on my behalf became vessels of God’s love, reminding me that what looks like an ending is often where He does His best work.
… the thorn doesn’t defeat us; it becomes the doorway through which His glory steps in.
Through lingering numbness and nerve pain in my face (Trigeminal neuralgia), vision issues in my left eye, and the exhaustion of hospital stays and oncology appointments, God has been teaching me to release my grip on self-sufficiency. Every test, every scan, every unknown has been a lesson in dependence, a sacred invitation to rest fully in Him. He meets us in both the dramatic and the mundane.
As we face uncertainty and continue to navigate treatments, recoveries, and the unknown, the same promise remains: His grace is sufficient. His power is made perfect in weakness. My valleys have become fertile soil, and in surrendering, I’ve discovered strength I never possessed alone.
To anyone reading this, let this be a challenge and an encouragement: don’t wait for the mountains to feel secure. Step into your valley. Admit your insufficiency. Rest in grace. Let God’s power carry you through the moments you cannot handle on your own. Because in the valleys, in the weakness, God is not just present – He is gloriously, powerfully enough.
About the Author
Sarah Holsapple serves on staff at her church in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, as the Creative & Spiritual Development Director. She serves alongside her husband of almost twenty years, Harris, who is the lead pastor at First Open Bible. Sarah has been teaching and preaching for several years. She’s passionate about discipleship and women’s ministry and served as the Regional Women’s Director for Open Bible Central Region. One of her favorite things in life is being a mom to her two incredible children, Hudson and Lynnley Jo.
The last several years for Sarah have been the hardest of her life. She truly knows the depths of heartbreak and what it feels like to wrestle through healing. She has seen God move in miraculous ways and has experienced great comfort in knowing that we serve a faithful God. Sarah feels great joy in sharing encouragement from the word of God, seeing lives changed and people set free!
My wife, Leona, was at an eye exam, and I was waiting in the lobby when a good-looking couple walked in. Thinking they were Hispanic, I greeted them in Spanish. With a look of surprise, they responded that they didn’t understand. Noticing their accent, I asked what language they spoke. “Arabic,” they replied. They were from Cairo, Egypt.
“I was just there!” I exclaimed. We introduced ourselves, and when they asked about my trip, I explained that I had gone to teach at INSTE Global Bible College. As we talked, we discovered common ground—Youssef and Fatima are both college professors, and Leona and I also work in higher education.
When the conversation turned to food, my Italian roots—revealed by my surname—caught their interest. I asked them what their favorite Italian dish was. “We love eggplant parmesan,” they answered.
“Would you come to our house for dinner if I made that?” I asked. They gladly accepted. When Leona’s appointment ended, we compared calendars and set a date to host Youssef, Fatima, and their four sons.
At home we talked about what to do with our dog Barney. Living in a townhome, we couldn’t put him outside. Knowing that Muslims traditionally view dogs as unclean, we decided to banish Barney to our finished basement during the visit.
Before dinner, we explained our custom of thanking God for our food. They understood, appreciating that we blessed them also in our prayer. Conversation flowed easily as we shared the meal. Afterward, the younger boys, full of energy, spotted the basement stairs. Leona explained about Barney, assuring Fatima that he was friendly. With her permission, the boys bounded downstairs to play with one very happy dog. The older boys preferred the TV room to watch football, while we lingered at the table with Youssef and Fatima, enjoying the chance to connect as fellow educators. Our first dinner together was a success.
As Fatima and Leona washed the dishes, the conversation was salted with quotes from the Koran and the Bible…
That Thanksgiving, we invited the family back to share in a traditional holiday meal. Barney had a sleepover at Leona’s sister’s house this time. We set the table for a 1:00 p.m. feast, but our guests were delayed returning from Wisconsin and arrived closer to 5:00. Once gathered, we enjoyed another rich time together.
Leona and Fatima washed dishes side by side, as Youssef and I chatted in the living room. All four boys bundled into the TV room to watch sports. Later, gathered by the fireplace, Youssef asked, “Does the Bible talk about the end of the world?” He was genuinely interested in comparing Christian and Muslim viewpoints on the end times. We had a very interesting conversation that evening! It was 11:00 p.m. when six-year-old Ahmed sleepily stumbled from the TV room, asking, “Can we go home now?” Shortly thereafter, we said good night to our guests with gratitude for another memorable evening.
Months later, Youssef and Fatima invited us to their home for the Muslim celebration of Eid, marking the close of Ramadan. Fatima had prepared the traditional feast of Egyptian dishes. We arrived in time to count down to sunset, and then the banquet began. As Fatima and Leona washed the dishes, the conversation was salted with quotes from the Koran and the Bible as Fatima explained Eid. The rest of the evening was filled with relaxing conversation, along with plans to get together for the Fourth of July.
Friendship and food opened doors for evangelism.
Our last gathering was at Christmas. Once again, we shared a meal, meaningful conversation, and plenty of laughter. Wanting to give them New Testaments in a respectful way, we sought guidance from friends experienced in ministry to Muslims. Following their advice, we wrapped the books beautifully, adding a heartfelt note expressing our joy in their friendship. We presented the gifts as they left that evening. Though we haven’t heard from them since, we often remember Youssef, Fatima, and their boys in prayer. Friendship and food opened doors for evangelism. We learned that sensitivity to cultural and religious differences keeps those doors open, and above all, we were reminded to live out 1 Peter 3:15: “Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect…” (NIV).
About the Authors
Leona K. Venditti, EdD, and Nicholas A Venditti, PhD, met in Madrid, Spain. In 1982, Leona was sent by Open Bible’s Department of Global Missions to start a training program which has since grown into INSTE Global Bible College. It has expanded to more than forty countries and eighteen languages. Together, the Vendittis continue to “make disciples and develop leaders” both nationally and globally as they mentor many cross-cultural followers of Jesus.