Help Me Believe

Chapter 3: Worship in the Hallway

Faith’s Diary

Today I reminded myself: I will worship God in the hallway while waiting for His “go.”

Not because everything feels easy. Not because I have all the answers. But because He is worthy—even when the door hasn’t opened yet.

The hallway is quiet. It stretches long and uncertain. But it’s also sacred. It’s where trust is built. Where praise becomes a choice, not a reaction. Where I learn to sing without a stage, to pray without clarity, to believe without signs.

This morning, I played “Spirit Lead Me” while the girls ate breakfast. The lyrics washed over me like a prayer I didn’t know I needed:

“If You say ‘it’s wrong,’ then I’ll say ‘no’ If You say ‘release,’ I’m letting go...”

I stood at the sink, hands in soapy water, heart wide open. That’s how I want to live—led by the Spirit, not by fear. Not by pressure. Not by my own plans. I want to be the kind of woman who listens before she leaps. Who waits before she wanders. Who worships before she worries.

“You’re the fire, you’re the refiner I wanna be consumed...”

That line stayed with me. Because this waiting season feels like refining. Like God is burning away the things that don’t belong. Like He’s shaping me for something I can’t yet see.

I’ve felt the pull lately—toward distraction, toward comfort, toward things that look good but don’t carry His peace. I’ve felt the temptation to silence the Spirit’s whisper and follow my own voice. But I won’t. I’ve come too far to forget who I belong to.

I know what it’s like to let something take up so much space in your heart that there’s no room left for God. I know how easy it is to drift. To stop praying. To stop listening. To let the noise drown out the still, small voice.

But I won’t let that happen.

Not this time.

I will not forget about God in this season. I will not trade His presence for temporary comfort. I will not silence the Spirit just because the hallway feels long.

Instead, I’ll worship.

I’ll sing while I fold laundry. I’ll pray while I walk to the store. I’ll read scripture while the girls play. I’ll lift my hands in the quiet moments and say, “You are still good.”

Because worship isn’t just for the mountaintop.

It’s for the middle.

It’s for the hallway.

It’s for the waiting.

And when the “go” finally comes—when the door swings wide and the next chapter begins—I want to walk through it with praise already on my lips. Not desperate. Not frantic. But full of faith.

So I’ll keep worshiping in the hallway.

Because this isn’t just a pause—it’s preparation.

And He is worthy of praise in every season.

Love, Faith