October 29, 2026
Since my English literature classes in college, I have retained a famous line from one of John Milton’s sonnets—a line I often repeat to myself when life’s delays make me wait: “They also serve who only stand and wait.”
Milton’s words speak to so many of my questions about waiting. For me, waiting has often seemed like a waste of energy unless I remind myself of its place in the spiritual life. But waiting and stillness also seem so essential.
When I am waiting impatiently, all I can see is that I cannot continue with my plan, contribute to the project, or move forward. In other words, I am sidelined. Many of us believe that being on the bench is a waste—that nothing is accomplished there. The ego does not want to wait. But that is not the case when we consider waiting in a spiritual sense. The soul can wait.
The seventeenth-century writer and poet John Milton faced this question when he completely lost his sight in his early forties. Writing was central to his sense of purpose, and blindness changed how he could carry out that work. His loss was more than a frustration; it raised painful questions about his ability to serve God and humanity.
In his sonnet “When I Consider How My Light Is Spent,” written around 1655, Milton wrestles with the fear that a talent he longs to use in God’s service has become useless. Must he continually produce something to be of value to God? What happens when he can no longer work as he once did? The sonnet moves toward an answer in its closing lines:
“His state is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.”
That last line is the one I frequently repeat when my ego comes to the fore and I judge myself for waiting and think it is a waste of my time. The passage can be interpreted in several ways, but here is my understanding: While many travel across the world in service to God, others serve through stillness, patience, and readiness. Their service may be less visible, but it is no less worthy.
For me, this is what makes waiting spiritually meaningful. The waiting Milton describes is not lethargy, giving up, abdicating responsibility, or falling asleep to life. It is a willingness to remain present and available, even when action is limited or the next step is unclear. It is conscious waiting.
Waiting consciously can be a way of serving God by holding space for the spiritual to unfold. We pause; we listen; we allow something to emerge that we cannot yet see or bring about through our own efforts.
Waiting is like a prayer—it creates a landing space for divine manifestation. Spiritual Action happens in the landing spaces that we create through conscious waiting.
Milton was not finished with his creative contributions to the world because of his disability. Even without eyesight, he continued to compose by dictating his words to others. His blindness changed the way he worked, but it did not end his contribution. Some of his greatest writings still lay ahead when he completely lost his sight. His life reminds me that being unable to continue in a familiar way does not mean our purpose has ended. Sometimes waiting allows us to recognize another way to serve. And even before that way becomes clear, our patient presence in waiting has value.
The prophet Isaiah offers another image of waiting:
“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles.”—Isaiah 40:31
I am coming to understand that waiting is not always an interruption of our spiritual journey, but rather one of the ways we are given strength and awareness for the journey.
Spiritual Practice
What are you waiting for right now? How might you remain present and available to God during this time?
Inquiry
Why might continuous activity make us feel more worthy? What happens when we allow ourselves to have value even in stillness?
Prayer
Dear God, I pray for the gift of patience—to wait with awareness of Your unfolding story and to trust that I can serve You even in stillness.
Amen
