Good morning. I’m writing this from a seat in the waiting area of Gate B13. I’ve just survived an hour-long early morning drive, a crowded shuttle, and the longest TSA line I’ve ever been in. Now, I’m waiting to board our flight. That won’t happen for another 75 minutes.

And none of that has bothered me. At all.

You see, all of that driving, waiting, and standing in line was necessary to get me where I’m going. Lines don’t matter when the destination is worth it.

Waiting is a natural part of life, and it’s a normal part of the spiritual life. That’s why we need to always ask ourselves if we’re waiting for the right things.

If we aren’t, it’s time to get out of line, so you don’t waste the wait (like those people who waited in the TSA pre-check line and weren’t actually pre-checked — yikes!).

UPDATE: Now I’m writing this in line at Starbucks. Again, worth the wait. Also, I’m one person closer because a lady in front of me decided to bail. Yay for me!

When we are headed in the right direction and to the right destination, the waiting actually serves as an anticipation builder. Because we know where we’re going is going to be worth it, we can see the lines as good things. Well, maybe good “bad” things.

Whether it’s revival, a turnaround, the return of Jesus, or a Grande Nitro Cold Brew to sip before boarding a flight to a great family vacation, keep expecting the good things that are coming, and you’ll find yourself breezing through the waiting.

I’ve noticed that there are two things that most people like: being in control and cheering for the underdog. The odd thing about that? Those two don’t go together.

To be in control means that we’re in charge and that things should go according to our plans. Underdogs mess all of that up. So while we love stories of the upset, we struggle when our stories get upset.

We cheer when the little guy sticks it to the man or when the small team with no scholarship players shocks the world and wins it all against the bigger and more talented team. We love that kind of unexpected turnout, but we hate the unexpected turn in our own lives.

I want to challenge you to begin to root for the upset in your life, too. In fact, I want to show you that the God you love is actually the God of the upset. Not just the “last second shot that pulls out the win” kind of upset, but the “I’ll turn your plans on their head” type of upset. And while we don’t like that kind of upset, it’s actually what we need to remind us that we aren’t called to be in control as much as we’d like to be.

Isaiah 29:15-16 is a two-verse reality check for all of us about who is really in charge of each of us. The prophet writes these words from Yahweh to His people:

Woe to those who deeply hide their plans from the Lord, And whose deeds are done in a dark place, And they say, “Who sees us?” or “Who knows us?” You turn things around! Shall the potter be considered as equal with the clay, That what is made would say to its maker, “He did not make me”; Or what is formed say to him who formed it, “He has no understanding?” (‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭29:15-16‬ ‭NASB, emphasis mine)

The middle phrase — “You turn things around” — unlocks the powerful message in these two verses. The Hebrew word for “turn” — “hophek” — isn’t found anywhere else in Scripture, and it means “an upset; a turning of things upside down.” In the context of plans and pottery, what the Lord is telling His people — me and you — is that we’re foolish to make our plans as if He doesn’t see us. Not only that, but when we do make plans in secret, we work against the potter who turns things around, upside down, and upsets the status quo of our lives in order to accomplish His plans in us and through us.

He’s the God of the upset, and in this passage, that means He’s upsetting us more than upsetting our enemies. Of course, we know from other passages that God is on the side of the small and the marginalized, and that He can snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. But we can’t yell for that upset without also yielding to the upset that takes place on the potter’s wheel.

But yield we must because until we do, our lives are just lumps of clay. It’s in the turning, the molding, and the upsetting that the Master reveals the pottery that is useful in His hands.

Selah.

Sometimes we hope in things that are unrealistic. We hope to get a pony for Christmas even though we live in the city. Or we hope to get a boar even though we live in the Midwest as far from water as possible. Or we hope to become the next head coach of the Carolina Panthers even though we’ve only coached youth sports.

So, it’s easy to read a verse like Romans 5:5 and immediately wonder if it could really be true:

and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Romans‬ ‭5:5‬ ‭NASB, emphasis mine)

We’re not used to a hope that doesn’t disappoint, and yet that is more a function of what we’re hoping in and not so much hope itself. This verse is part of an encouragement from Paul about trusting in God to save us from hard times because He’s already saved us at the cross. We know with certainty that He saved us at the cross then, and that means we can hope without disappointment that He’ll save us again now.

Hope in Jesus does not disappoint. What He did before, He’ll do again. We can count on it.