Take courage, and wait
Strength to hold on
Sometimes the only thing the valley asks of us is to hold on — and the psalmist speaks directly to that grim, unglamorous work: be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord. There are seasons when we cannot fix the situation, cannot see the way out, cannot feel God's presence, and cannot do anything but endure. To those seasons, Scripture says: be strong, take courage, keep waiting.
Notice that courage is commanded here, which means it is not merely a feeling but a choice. We do not wait for courage to arrive before we hold on; we choose to let our hearts take courage in the act of holding on. Courage in the valley is not the absence of fear or fatigue, but the decision to keep waiting on God when everything in us wants to quit.
And the waiting is not aimless. It is waiting for the Lord — anchored in the confident expectation the psalmist names elsewhere: I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. The one who holds on does so not in blind endurance but in the hope that God will yet act, that his goodness will yet be seen. When all you can do is endure, that is enough; be strong, take courage, and keep waiting for the Lord, who has not finished his goodness toward you.
“Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who hope in the LORD.”
— David — Psalm 31:24 (WEB)
When all you can do is endure, take courage as a choice and keep waiting on the Lord — for holding on is itself a high and faithful work.
“I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.”
When the valley offers nothing to fix and no exit to find, the bare work of holding on can feel like failure, as though faithfulness ought to look busier than this. The interior work is to let the psalmist dignify endurance — be strong, take courage, keep waiting — and to receive courage as a choice made in the act of holding on rather than a feeling we must wait to arrive, anchoring the wait in the sure hope of seeing God's goodness.
This week, where you can only endure, do it as faith rather than failure: choose to take courage, keep waiting on the Lord, and anchor the holding-on in the confident expectation that you will yet see his goodness in the land of the living.
Self-reproach is the danger here, whispering that mere endurance is worthless and you ought to be doing more, hoping you will let go. But grinding endurance anchored in hope is among the highest works of faith — the soul that takes courage as a choice and keeps waiting outlasts the very season that told it to quit.
Some seasons of the valley offer nothing to do but endure. We cannot fix the situation, cannot find the exit, cannot feel God's nearness — and the only faithfulness available is to hold on. This unglamorous, grinding endurance can feel like failure, as if we ought to be doing something more. The psalmist dignifies it: be strong, take courage, keep waiting for the Lord. Holding on is itself an act of faith.
And notice that courage is commanded, not merely wished for — which means it is a choice we make, not a feeling we await. We let our hearts take courage in the very act of holding on, deciding to keep waiting when everything wants to quit. The waiting is anchored in confident hope: I shall yet see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. When all you can do is endure, do not despise it. To be strong, take courage, and keep waiting on God is, in the valley, a high and faithful work.
- Does simply enduring feel like failure to me?
- Can I treat courage as a choice rather than a feeling I must await?
- Am I waiting in the hope of seeing God's goodness, or in blind endurance?
Lord, in this season I can do nothing but endure, and the holding-on feels like failure. Teach me that it is faith. Help me be strong and take courage as a choice, and keep waiting on you, confident I will yet see your goodness in the land of the living. Amen.