Finding God in the Waiting

“Loneliness can be a wilderness, but if we can receive it as a gift, it will become a path to God.” - Henri Nouwen

A few weeks ago, I was at a YWAM gathering in western Michigan. As soon as worship began, it felt like I was back in London. The room was alive, fully activated in worship. You could tangibly feel the presence of God.

But the moment I left, something surfaced: the ache in my heart. That deep groan of loneliness. I was alone again.

For the past month and a half, I’ve consistently lamented being back home. I often feel like a fish out of water, disoriented and misplaced. It’s been difficult to find the kind of spiritual environment and community I had grown so accustomed to in Europe.

So, I cried out to the Lord, asking Him to change my circumstances.

In His gentle love, He revealed two things to me:

1. Loneliness and solitude are a path to Him, if I’m willing to receive them.

2. If I stay present instead of rushing through this part of the journey, I’ll begin to see what He’s already doing around me.

   
   

We often distract ourselves with busyness to avoid facing the loneliness beneath. We push down our emotions and pretend they’re not there.

Oh, what a disservice we do to our souls. Because it is in the loneliness, in the quiet, unfiltered solitude, that we come face to face with who we are. And more importantly, we meet God there.

The world has trained us to avoid silence. To resist the waiting. But waiting isn’t doing nothing. It’s being present to the moment, open to what God is forming within us in the stillness.

True solitude is expectant. It’s rooted in the belief that something meaningful is being shaped, even when we can’t see it. And maybe it’s not about gaining something at all, but about letting go of what we don’t need: anxiety, worry, fear. In that tension, in the back-and-forth struggle, I’ve found joy and real satisfaction for my soul.

Signs of Life in the Wilderness

The first week I was back, I had a choice:

Should I show up to Friday Night Prayer, despite the jet lag and cultural whiplash, or stay in and rest?

I went.

That night, I was asked to lead the room in prayer for physical healing, and we saw six people healed. One woman was delivered from shingles. Another was healed from six straight months of migraines. Fully healed in Jesus' name. Right here in Hamilton, Ontario.

I’ve also begun walking alongside a couple of young men in my community. Some have been believers for a while, whileothers are finding God for the very first time. I’m watching Him transform lives right in front of me.

Even in sorrow, I’ve felt His invitation.

At a recent family funeral, a space I used to avoid because of the pain, I felt the Spirit gently draw me in. Not to escape, but to be present. And in choosing presence, I received something unexpected: joy. Joy in simply being with the people God placed right in front of me. My family.

I’ve started going on walks and hikes, just to process, to pray, to listen. To simply be in conversation with Jesus. I don’talways come back with major revelations or clear words. But something shifts. It’s not always about what I gain, often, it’s about what I lose: fear, anxiety, heaviness. And in return, I find peace, joy, and a quiet confidence that in the stillness, You are God. Even in the chaos and confusion, You remain sovereign.

This is where the shift began.

Instead of walking through loneliness alone, I began inviting Jesus into every space I’m in. Not just the holy or the quiet, but the ordinary and overlooked. Even while working, I’ll put on live worship, welcoming His presence into the room, into my thoughts, and the unnoticed corners of my day.

This season may not look like my last, but God is allowing it for a reason.

Rather than run from the discomfort and the change, I now see it for what it is: An invitation.

An invitation to go deeper in trust.

To stop asking, “When will this end?”

And begin asking, “What is God doing in me right now?”

As I’ve leaned into this invitation to be present, to listen, to slow down, to trust, I’ve also started to notice some of the ways God is moving around me. Not just within, but in the spaces and communities He’s placed me in for this season.

Here’s a little of what life looks like right now:

Lampstand Hamilton

Right now, I’m rooted in Hamilton and plugged into the Lampstand community. It’s been such a gift to participate in their Friday Night Prayers and help lead their new young adults group. It’s a season of planting, serving, and letting my roots go deeper.

Looking Ahead: Neighbours and Nations

I have officially been accepted to join the Neighbours & Nations training school this fall. It’s a movement centred on training, mobilising, sending, and reaching unreached people groups. I’m deeply expectant about what God is building and grateful to be part of this new chapter.

A Joyful Celebration: My Sister’s Wedding

On a more personal note, my sister is getting married soon! It's been a joy to be part of the preparation and celebration as our family steps into this exciting moment together.

How You Can Pray

If you're someone who prays, here are a few ways you can stand with me in this season:

• For the wedding: That it would be full of joy, peace, and the tangible presence of God, for my sister, her fiancé, and our whole family.

• For Hamilton: That I’d stay present and faithful here, ministering and receiving all God has for this time before heading out again.

• For the future: As I prepare to return to the UK and Europe, pray for clear direction, provision, and continued favour with the communities I’ll be part of.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read, pray, and walk with me through this journey. Your support, whether through prayer, encouragement, or just staying connected, means more than I can say.

I’d also love to stay in touch and hear what God is doing in your life. If there’s anything you’re walking through or believing for, I would be honoured to pray with you.

Please feel free to reach out, I want this to be a two-way road of encouragement and prayer.

Grace and Peace,

Cameron