Wait For It

Have you ever watched those viral videos where something unexpected is about to happen, and a finger points to the screen with the words "wait for it"? That moment of anticipation, that pause before something spectacular unfolds—it's more than just internet entertainment. It's actually a profound picture of the Christian life.

The entire gospel can be summed up in those three words: wait for it.

You see me struggling now? Wait for it. I'm having a difficult season? Wait for it. Things look impossible? Wait for it. Jesus is coming, and something big is about to happen. A resurrection is about to take place.

God doesn't call you to get your act together and rack up enough points to cash in for a halo one day. That's not how He operates. Instead, He puts a picture by your bedside—on your nightstand—of who you are in Him, of how He sees you.

God's righteousness isn't based on you; it's placed on you. The day-to-day goal isn't to get something by doing the right things, but remembering who you already are and then being what He has legally, once and for all, decreed is true about you.

In Christ, you are the righteousness of God. You are more than a conqueror. You are a child of the King. You are the temple of the Holy Spirit—the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead dwells within you. You are chosen, forgiven, called, and equipped. You are seated in heavenly places, and your prayers pull down strongholds.

You are indestructible in the will of God and headed for heaven when you finish your mission. You have what it takes.

The story of Lazarus captures this "wait for it" principle perfectly. When Jesus arrived in Bethany, Lazarus had been dead for four days. Martha met Him with words tinged with disappointment: "Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died."

Jesus wept. He groaned in His spirit. Then He went to the tomb and said something that seemed absurd: "Take away the stone."

Martha protested: "Lord, by this time he stinks, for he has been dead four days."

But Jesus insisted. And when they removed the stone, He cried with a loud voice: "Lazarus, come forth!"

Wait for it.

And he who was dead came forth, bound hand and foot with grave clothes, his face wrapped with a napkin. Jesus said, "Loose him and let him go."

That is the gospel message we preach today. That is the power available to every believer. Lazarus was wrapped up dead, but he heard a voice—and everything changed.

Christianity, like its founder, doesn't go from strength to strength. It goes from death to resurrection. That's the pattern. That's the rhythm of kingdom life.

Take away the resurrection and everything else comes crashing down. But nobody can take that away because we've come to a kingdom that cannot be shaken. Our God raises the dead. That's what He does. Jesus has conquered the grave once and for all.

Consider Jose Hernandez, who grew up in a Mexican-American family picking produce to survive. He dreamed of becoming an astronaut—an impossible dream by any measure. NASA rejected him eleven times. Eleven rejection letters. Eleven deaths to his dream.

But he didn't waste his waiting. He added skills, earned certifications, learned Russian. And on the twelfth try, he was accepted. In 2009, he flew to the International Space Station.

During those years of rejection, while working as an engineer, he pioneered a mammography machine for early detection of breast cancer—a machine that has saved hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions of lives. His stack of rejection letters, which represented a humiliating death to a dream, actually became a resurrection—not just for Jose, but for countless people around the world.

Here's a truth that might surprise you: the church's greatest struggle throughout history hasn't been persecution. It's been how to thrive in the blessings of God without being ruined by them. How to handle abundance and prosperity without being captivated by it instead of remaining captivated by the Giver.

Hard times create strong people. Strong people create good times. Good times create weak people. And weak people create hard times. The cycle repeats endlessly.

But through it all, one truth remains: Jesus said, "On this rock I will build My church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." When it might seem like it's dying, just wait for it. Something is about to happen. If it's about to die, that means it's about to be revived.

The apostle Paul understood the power of moving forward: "This one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal."

Tiger Woods, one of the greatest golfers of all time, had a similar philosophy. When he made a mistake on the course, he allowed himself exactly ten steps of sadness. After ten steps, the mistake was in the past. It was over. Time to focus on what was ahead.

Whatever you did yesterday—forget about it. Whatever you accomplished yesterday—forget about it. Whatever happened ten years ago—forget about it. This is the key ingredient in not letting your past paralyze you and keep you in a place where God can't do anything with you.

Your world may look chaotic. It may look dark, bleak, in turmoil. Death and brokenness may seem to be everywhere you turn. The prince of this world would love for you to focus only on what you see—the chaos, the mess, the broken marriages, the children struggling with addiction, the ruined lives.

But Jesus wants you to know something: "I have overcome the world."

He spoke those words before the cross, before He died and rose again. How could He declare victory before it happened? Because He is God. He sees the end from the beginning.

You can sleep tonight because He has overcome the mess.

In Utah, there's an aspen grove described as the largest organism ever discovered on earth. It spreads over 100 acres and consists of 40,000 individual trees—all originating from one single seed. You can cut down trees in one place, but they'll continue to grow in another because the root system keeps sending up new shoots.

The church is like that aspen grove. One organism, showing up uniquely in different times, seasons, and places, yet still one. One faith, one Lord, one baptism, one Spirit.

We may not be having our finest moment in one location, but somewhere else, something spectacular is taking place. A new shoot is coming up. A new work is being planted. Someone is walking off the streets into a building, and God is gloriously filling them with the Holy Spirit—a supernatural event that nobody believed could happen.

Unless a seed goes into the ground and dies, it will just remain a seed. But if it dies, it becomes a harvest.

God has a completely different way of looking at death. We stand at the graveside, shed our tears, and walk away saddened. But God is standing there with His arm out to block our departure, saying, "Hey! Wait for it. I'm not done with this yet."

Would Esther have married the king and saved her people had her parents not died? Would Daniel have become a trusted advisor to the king without first being kidnapped from his home? Would we know that songs can shake the ground and set captives free had Paul and Silas not been imprisoned?

Joseph would never have become prime minister under Pharaoh had it not been for the huge mess he faced—brothers who betrayed him, being lied about, forgotten by people he helped, falsely accused by a woman he rejected. His pain wasn't a barrier to his dreams coming true. It was the gateway.

The death you're experiencing in your life, in your body, in your career, or in your walk is not a curse. It's a catalyst. It's just the beginning of something new, something grand.

A little girl found a dilapidated jewelry box at a thrift store and paid three dollars for it. Her father told her she'd overpaid—it was battered, filthy, torn, and looked like it had survived a very long life at the hands of an unloving owner.

With a look of betrayal, she clutched it close and said, "Just wait until I get done with it."

Half an hour later, her father heard a squeal of joy. While cleaning out the dust between the velvet cushions, she found a tightly rolled up $100 bill. She came running with a mischievous smirk, held up that Benjamin, and said, "I overpaid, huh?"

Jesus is