Battle with Time, Battle with God

 

Battle with Time, Battle with God

Hi blog, long time no writing again.

These days, I've been fully occupied with lab work and writing. Despite all the drama of my PhD—which I'll save for another day—I'm grateful that I'm still on track. I only have one research article left to finish and, hopefully, I'll also submit a review article that I've been keeping in reserve.

Recently, while taking a break from the constant rush of experiments and deadlines, I decided to slow down by reading manga. Ironically, I became so absorbed in the stories that I stayed up far too late, which probably wasn't the best way to rest.

Still, those stories left me with an unexpected reflection.

Some romance manga develop quickly, with the main characters realizing their feelings within just a couple of chapters. Others take dozens of chapters before either of them finally admits what has been there all along. Neither story is necessarily better—they simply unfold at different paces.

The same can be said about life and, for me, the PhD journey. There are days when I feel as though I'm falling behind everyone else, and there are other days when I realize I've progressed further than I expected. Living between these two feelings often creates anxiety, and at the heart of that anxiety lies one thing: time.

Time has a way of exposing our deepest fears. It makes us question where we are, where we should be, and whether God's plans for us are unfolding as they should. We quietly compare our lives with those of others, measuring milestones such as academic success, career, love, marriage, house ownership, children, and even retirement against an invisible timeline that society seems to expect everyone to follow.

When our lives don't match that timeline, anxiety begins to grow. We start wondering whether we've been left behind or whether we're somehow less worthy than those who seem to be moving ahead. Before long, our minds become filled with one recurring question: When?

When will I meet the love of my life?

When will I finally find a job, Lord? I've been searching for six months.

When will this season of waiting come to an end?

These questions often become silent prayers, whispered through tears we can no longer hold back. Every delay feels like countless tiny thorns pressing against our hearts—not enough to destroy us, but enough to remind us that we're still waiting.

Perhaps that is why waiting can feel like a battle with God. Not because we doubt His goodness, but because we struggle to understand His timing. We plead for our own timeline to become reality, hoping He will answer our prayers according to our schedule. Yet in those moments, the real battle is not against time itself—it is learning to trust that God's timing, though often difficult to understand, is never without purpose.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering about Abraham, father of the faithful. What did he feel after waiting five years? Ten years? Fifteen years without a child? Did hope ever begin to fade? Did he ever grow weary of hearing God's promise while seeing no sign of its fulfillment? What gave him the strength to keep believing when every passing year seemed to make the promise more impossible?

I believe that during those seasons of waiting, there must have been moments of uncertainty, frustration, anger, and even despair. Waiting is not always a peaceful process. Sometimes, it brings out the deepest struggles within our hearts. We question, we doubt, and we wonder why God seems silent when we need Him the most.

Yet perhaps God allows us to experience those emotions because, through them, we are drawn closer to Him. In our uncertainty, we learn to seek His certainty. In our weakness, we learn to depend on His strength. In moments when we feel lost, we are reminded that our hope was never meant to be placed in our own timeline, but in His faithfulness.

Right now, I especially feel this battle in the waiting for my love story. There are moments when I wonder when that chapter will begin, who that person will be, and why the waiting feels so long. But perhaps this reflection is not only for others who are waiting—it is also a reminder to my own heart.

I write these words to reassure myself: to trust God's process, to believe that He is still working even when I cannot see it, and to remember that a delayed answer does not mean a forgotten prayer.

Perhaps the waiting itself is part of the story God is writing. Amen.