This was no longer a metaphorical waiting room; it was a clinical reality. I felt like "dead stock" - inventory sitting on a shelf, depreciating, gathering dust, serving no immediate economic purpose. For the first six months, I treated God like a vendor who had missed a delivery window. I was angry. I analyzed the metrics of my faith and found the ROI lacking. I tried to "optimize" my healing through sheer willpower, treating my recovery like a logistical hurdle to be cleared so I could get back to the "real work" of my life. I viewed this season as downtime, and in my line of work, downtime is the enemy of profit. But as the months dragged on and the transplant list didn't move, I was forced to confront a brutal truth: You cannot expedite the soul.
The turning point didn't come in a sanctuary, but on a slow, labored hike along the Appalachian approach trail during a "good week" between treatments. I stopped to catch my breath in front of a massive white oak. My professional brain immediately started calculating: How long did this asset take to reach maturity? What is the yield? Suddenly, the absurdity of my impatience hit me. That tree spends 90% of its life in what I would call "dwell time." It isn’t running; it isn’t shipping; it is simply rooting. In logistics, we have a concept called "Value-Added Services" - processing that happens while goods are technically stationary in the warehouse. This includes kitting, labeling, or customization. The product isn't moving, but it is becoming more valuable. I realized that God isn't interested in my speed; He is interested in my infrastructure. He wasn't hitting "pause" to punish me; He was moving me from a transit hub to a customization center.
"Waiting" in the Biblical sense is not passive sitting; it is active resource curing. Just as high-quality lumber must cure to prevent warping, or concrete must set to bear weight, our character requires "dwell time" to stabilize. If God had delivered the "product" (my health, my career goals, my answers) when I demanded them two years ago, the structural integrity of my character would have collapsed under the weight. The wait was necessary to increase my load-bearing capacity.
I began to apply a Supply Chain Audit to my spiritual life, shifting from a focus on speed to a focus on depth. If you are currently stuck in a "holding pattern" - whether that is unemployment, a health crisis, or relational silence - you must stop viewing it as a delay and start viewing it as a manufacturing phase. The bottleneck is often where the most critical quality control happens. Here is how I learned to stop kicking the doors and start furnishing the hallway:
- Audit Your Inputs: During a delay, what are you consuming? Are you feeding your anxiety with worst-case scenarios, or are you stabilizing your internal inventory with truth?
- Identify the "Value-Add": Ask yourself, “What can I develop in this season that I couldn't develop in motion?” Patience, empathy, and resilience are assets that cannot be acquired at high velocity.
- Trust the Logistics Manager: In my job, the warehouse floor workers don't see the global shipping manifest. They have to trust that the manager knows where the inventory is going. God is the ultimate Supply Chain Manager. His timing considers variables we cannot see.
I am still in the hallway. The transplant hasn't happened yet. But I have stopped checking the tracking number every five minutes. I have learned that the silence is not an absence of activity; it is an accumulation of value. I am waiting, not with clenched fists, but with the open hands of someone who knows that the best inventory takes time to procure.
