my Articulate Heart

We live in an age that mistrusts waiting. Everything around us urges immediacy—instant answers, instant pleasure, instant relief. To wait is often portrayed as weakness, as though patience were merely the absence of courage. And so, when something within us longs deeply, we feel pressured to act quickly, to resolve the tension before it teaches us anything. Yet waiting is not emptiness. It is not passivity. It is not fear. Waiting is a form of strength. At the heart of every desire is a question: Can I trust that what is truly good will come to me in the right time? Waiting answers that question not with words, but with the posture of the heart. It says, I will not take what I have not yet received. True freedom is often misunderstood as the ability to do whatever we want. But freedom, in its deepest sense, is the ability not to act—especially when acting would reduce love to impulse. The person who cannot wait is not free; he is driven. The one who can wait is governed by som...

Desire rarely announces itself gently. It rises as a restlessness in the heart, a longing that refuses to stay quiet. And when it becomes strong—bodily, insistent—we grow uneasy. We assume something has gone wrong. Holiness, we tell ourselves, must mean wanting less. So we learn to distrust desire. We suppress it, manage it, or rush to silence it before it exposes something too deep. Yet desire did not begin as a problem. It was placed in us at creation—a thirst meant to draw us toward communion. Desire is not a command to be obeyed, but a movement to be understood. The trouble is not that desire is strong, but that it is poorly interpreted. We live in a world that treats desire like an emergency: feel it, satisfy it, immediately. Waiting is called repression. Patience is mistaken for weakness. But the body does not speak in demands; it speaks in signals. And signals ask for discernment, not impulse. Desire always reaches before it grabs. It seeks closeness, belonging, union. T...