The Right Tools
“Therefore thus says the Lord God, “Behold, I am the one who has laid[a] as a foundation in Zion, a stone, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone, of a sure foundation: ‘Whoever believes will not be in haste.’” (Isaiah 28:16, ESV).
I am a chronic skin picker - Not in a cute, quirky way. In a “there are probably people in my life who wish they could tape oven mitts onto my hands” kind of way.
The ridiculous part is that I have every tool imaginable. Cuticle clippers. Nail clippers. Files. Those little metal tools whose actual names I don’t know but somehow convinced myself I needed. They’re in my bathroom, my purse, my drawers, my car. I am not lacking resources.
And yet, the second I notice one tiny piece of skin sticking up on the side of my finger, something in my brain says, Handle it immediately.
So I do…I don’t wait until I get home. I don’t put it out of my mind until I have access to the right tools. I decide my fingernails will do just fine.
Spoiler alert: they do not!
What started as one little hangnail or piece of dry skin somehow becomes an open wound. My finger starts bleeding, it’s sore for the next few days, and suddenly I’m searching for whatever is closest to stop the bleeding. I’ve used tissues, napkins, toilet paper, paper towels, and, when I was particularly desperate, my own jeans or shirt sleeve because I needed something—anything—to soak up the blood.
Once, during my criminal law final in law school, I picked my finger open while writing an essay about murder. Ironically, I started bleeding badly enough that blood pooled onto my keyboard. It was a timed exam, so there was no stopping to bandage it properly. I just...kept typing. If anyone had looked over my shoulder, they probably would’ve had some concerns. By the end, my keyboard was covered in dried blood and I guess I had a great story to tell.
The funny thing is that every single one of those moments was preventable.
If I had simply waited five minutes until I got home—or even thirty seconds until I reached into my purse—I already had exactly what I needed. The right tools would’ve handled the problem quickly, cleanly, and with far less pain.
Instead, I chose immediate over wise.
As I was cleaning yet another finger and putting on yet another Band-Aid, I realized I don’t just do this with my hands.
I do this with God.
So often, He is already preparing exactly what I need. He’s providing wisdom before the decision, strength before the trial, people before the loneliness, opportunities before the calling, and character before the responsibility. He isn’t withholding what I need. He’s simply giving it to me in His timing and in the way He knows is best.
But waiting feels uncomfortable. Waiting feels inefficient. Waiting feels like doing nothing.
So instead of trusting Him, I start picking at the situation myself.
I force conversations because I want closure now. I manipulate circumstances because I want certainty now. I chase opportunities because I’m afraid they’ll disappear if I don’t grab them immediately. I try to control things because uncertainty makes me anxious.
At first, it feels productive. It feels like I’m taking initiative.
Then it gets messy - Relationships become strained. Anxiety grows. Consequences pile up. I find myself trying to clean up wounds I never had to create in the first place.
And then I come back to God asking Him for a Band-Aid.
The older I get, the more I realize that so much of my striving comes from believing everything is urgent. If I don’t fix it now, no one will. If I don’t make it happen, it won’t happen. If I don’t take control, everything will fall apart.
That isn’t faith. That’s survival.
Survival tells us we have to act immediately because we’re on our own. Faith reminds us we’re not.
It’s interesting that Scripture consistently connects trust with waiting.
Isaiah writes, “They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength” (Isaiah 40:31, ESV). Waiting isn’t wasted time; it’s often where God strengthens us for what lies ahead.
David echoes the same invitation: “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart be courageous. Wait for the Lord” (Psalm 27:14, CSB). Apparently, waiting requires courage. It takes courage to believe that God’s silence isn’t His absence and that His pace isn’t His neglect.
Even Proverbs reminds us, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own understanding; in all your ways know him, and he will make your paths straight” (Proverbs 3:5–6, CSB). My own understanding almost always tells me to hurry. Trust invites me to slow down.
One of my favorite verses on this topic says simply, “therefore thus says the Lord God, “Behold, I am the one who has laid[a] as a foundation in Zion, a stone, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone, of a sure foundation: ‘Whoever believes will not be in haste.’” (Isaiah 28:16, ESV).
What a challenging picture of faith.
Belief isn’t just agreeing that God exists. Belief is refusing to panic. Refusing to force. Refusing to rip at something simply because we can’t stand waiting another minute.
Jesus Himself lived this way. Throughout the Gospels, people constantly tried to rush Him. They wanted immediate miracles, immediate answers, immediate action. Yet over and over He moved at the pace of the Father. He withdrew to pray before making decisions. He refused to be manipulated by urgency. He understood that obedience isn’t measured by speed but by faithfulness.
I wonder how many of my self-inflicted wounds came from confusing urgency with obedience.
How many conversations did I force that God would’ve handled more gently? How many doors did I try to pry open that He would’ve opened in the right season? How many sleepless nights came because I was trying to solve tomorrow’s problems with today’s limited strength?
The beautiful part of this story isn’t that I’ve finally stopped picking my fingers. Unfortunately, my cuticles can testify that sanctification is still in progress!
The beautiful part is that every time I come to God with another self-inflicted wound, He doesn’t shame me. He doesn’t sigh in frustration and say, “Well, if you had just listened...”
Instead, He draws near. He cleans what I’ve made messy. He binds up what I’ve torn apart. He patiently reminds me that His ways have always been gentler than mine. His grace doesn’t excuse my impatience, but it does meet me in it.
Maybe today you’re tempted to rip at something God has asked you to wait on. Maybe you’re trying to force a relationship, manufacture an opportunity, control an outcome, or rush a season because waiting feels unbearable.
Can I encourage you to pause?
The right tools may already be closer than you think.
God isn’t asking you to wait because He enjoys watching you struggle. He’s inviting you to trust that His timing is an expression of His love. What feels like delay may actually be protection. What feels like inactivity may actually be preparation.
And if you’ve already made a mess of things—if you’re standing there with metaphorical blood on your hands—you don’t have to hide.
Bring it to Him.
He’s really good at healing wounds.
Reflect with me: Where are you tempted to act out of urgency instead of trust? What would it look like to believe that God’s timing is not only wiser than yours, but kinder too?
bytaylormcgee
