“For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie.
If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.”
Habakkuk 2:3
Have you ever looked around and thought, “Why do they have it easier?” It feels like those who hurt others, those who lie or act selfishly, end up more blessed. They get the promotion. They find the relationships. They live comfortably while you’re still trying to make sense of your own journey. But maybe—just maybe—we’re only seeing one part of their story. Maybe what looks like a blessing on the surface comes with its own silent battles. And maybe our own struggles are shaping something far deeper than we can see right now.
Still, it's not easy. You show up. You do your best. You choose honesty over shortcuts, grace over gossip, and compassion over comfort. But even after doing all that, you feel stuck. You feel small. You pray, you wait, and you keep going, but life doesn’t seem to change. It's in those quiet, exhausting moments when your heart starts asking, "Is this still worth it? Am I doing something wrong? Why does doing good feel so hard?"
These questions aren’t new. The prophet Habakkuk asked them too. He lived in a time when people who ignored God were prospering, while those who tried to live rightly were suffering. He poured out his frustration, asking God the questions most of us keep buried (Habakkuk 1:2–4). But God reminded him that His plans are not bound by our timelines. That while the answer may seem delayed, it will come (Habakkuk 2:3). The waiting isn’t a punishment—it’s a process. A promise unfolding. And that was Habakkuk’s turning point: learning to trust even when nothing made sense.
We see the same pattern in other stories we know so well. Joseph was betrayed by his own brothers, sold into slavery, and thrown into prison before becoming second in command of Egypt (Genesis 37–41). Job lost everything—his wealth, his health, even his children—yet held on to his faith, and in time, saw his life restored (Job 1–42). David was anointed king but spent years running for his life before he ever sat on the throne (1 Samuel 16–2 Samuel 5). These weren’t smooth, easy paths. They were long roads filled with “Why me?” and “How long?” but in the end, they led to something greater.
And so here we are, walking our own version of those stories. Our “waiting rooms” may not look like deserts or prisons, but they can feel just as isolating. We may not battle giants with slingshots, but we face discouragement, doubt, and disappointment almost daily. We scroll through lives that look perfect, forgetting that most people only post their highlight reels. Behind every success could be a hundred silent struggles.
So today, let this be your quiet prayer: Lord, remind me that choosing good still matters. That doing what’s right, even when it’s unseen, still has value. Help me to trust You, not just when things go my way, but even when the road feels long and unclear. Help me believe that this road I’m on still leads somewhere beautiful.
Because even when the why remains unanswered, and even when nothing around us changes right away, there is a kind of strength that grows in the waiting. And one day, we’ll see: the long road was never wasted.
So if you’re in that season now, if you’re walking the long road of whys—keep going. The road may feel quiet, slow, even lonely. But it is not empty. There is light ahead. And if you keep walking, step by step, you will reach it.
[First Published: April 13, 2025]