A Defining Desire

Form Follows Function

Across science and design, we’re learning something that runs counter to our instincts: function does not ultimately determine form—form determines function. What something is shaped to be determines what it can rightly sustain and perform. When function outruns form, systems break, structures fail, and power becomes destructive rather than life-giving. Scripture reveals a similar truth about humanity. As John Lennox has observed, we are not accidents of the universe; we are made for relationship. We are designed for God’s companionship, and until that relationship is restored, our desires remain restless and disordered. This is why Jesus tells the disciples to wait. Not because the mission is unclear, but because their formation is still underway. Before God entrusts power, He reshapes desire—aligning what we are for with what He intends to do through us.

Asking the question

What is forming you? We are constantly being formed. I am not talking about self-improvement or religious pressure. When Christians talk about being ‘formed’ we’re not talking about behavior management, religious self-improvement, or trying harder to be a better person. Formation is not about polishing the outside of your life—it’s about shaping the inside of it.

Formation is the slow unsee process by which our desires, instincts, and reactions are shaped, usually without us noticing.

Long before we decide what we believe or how we act, something is already forming what we want, what we fear, and what we trust.

Let me give a concrete example. No one wakes up one day and chooses to crave their phone, or coffee, or tea, or morning donut. No one wakes up one day to decide to feel anxious in silence. These are habits that form over time. Stress forms us. Stories form us. What we give our attention to, again and again, shapes what feels normal and necessary.

In the same way, our spiritual lives are always being formed, whether we intend it or not. The question is not whether we are being formed, but by what are we being formed?

Consecration is not self-help, it not about shaping ourselves into better people. It is God, by His grace, patiently reshaping our loves, teaching us what to desire, what to trust, and where to rest.

The Bible Says

In our reading of Acts 1, the disciples are eager for an outcome: “Lord, will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” Their hope is not rebuked—but it is reoriented. Jesus does not deny the promise of the kingdom; He reframes their longing.

Instead of political clarity, chronological certainty, or renewed national power, Jesus offers waiting, promise, presence, and power through the Holy Spirit. The Spirit is not a tool for accomplishing our desires; He is God’s gift that reshapes what we desire.

Scripture is filled with examples of holy waiting. Abraham and Sarah waited twenty-five years for the promised son. Joseph endured betrayal and imprisonment for over a decade before God entrusted him with authority in Egypt. David was anointed king, yet waited many years—through obscurity and persecution—before ascending the throne. Noah built the ark for decades before the rain ever fell. Jacob labored fourteen years before marrying Rachel.

The Bible is not embarrassed by waiting. Again and again, God places His promises ahead of their fulfillment. And this tells us something vital: holy waiting is not wasted time. It is the space where God enlarges a person’s capacity to receive His gifts without being destroyed by them.

Why? Because power requires preparation.

Acts tells us that while the disciples waited, they were gathered together in one place—united in prayer and expectation. They were not striving. They were not strategizing. They were making themselves available for God to finish the work He had already begun in them.

Waiting does not change God’s promise—but it does change the people who receive it.

Holy waiting is not primarily about what God is withholding from us; it is about what God is reordering within us. Waiting exposes desire. When movement stops, when outcomes are delayed, when progress is suspended, what we truly want begins to surface.

In waiting, God gently disentangles our hunger for results from our hunger for Him. This is why waiting is holy ground. It is not passive; it is formative. It is where God trains our desires to rest in His presence rather than rush toward His gifts.

Before God entrusts power, He clarifies hunger. Before He sends us out, He teaches us what—and whom—we are meant to desire most. Holy waiting is the grace-filled space where our wanting is aligned with God Himself, so that when His promise arrives, we receive it not as a substitute for Him, but as an expression of His presence.

Holy Waiting makes room for redirected DESIRE

“In Psalm 27, David longs to remain in the presence of God and to gaze upon God in the holy temple. David’s desire for presence clarifies his location.”

The word translated “gaze” comes from the Hebrew חָזָה (ḥāzâ), which means sustained, attentive beholding rather than a passing glance. It is the kind of seeing associated with discernment and revelation, requiring time, stillness, and presence. David’s desire is not merely to see God’s beauty, but to remain long enough in God’s presence for sight to become understanding. Gazing, therefore, is an act of love and formation, not efficiency or utility. It explains why David’s desire clarifies his location—because what we gaze upon is what we choose to dwell with.

Desire Clarifies Location (Psalm 27)

David’s longing is not abstract. It is located. He does not simply want relief from enemies or resolution of threats—he wants to remain somewhere: in the presence of God.

This teaches us a crucial spiritual principle: desire determines dwelling. What we want most shapes where we choose to stay.

David’s desire for God clarifies his location—not merely geographically, but spiritually. His soul knows where it belongs.

Presence Before Resolution

Psalm 27 is not written in calm circumstances. David speaks of enemies, violence, and fear. Yet his primary concern is not escape from danger but abiding presence.

This is where desire becomes clarifying rather than distracting. David does not allow his circumstances to determine his location; his desire determines it.

Holy waiting begins here: choosing presence over progress, dwelling over departure, worship over withdrawal.

Location as a Formative Space

The “house of the LORD” is not a hiding place—it is a forming place.

To dwell and gaze is to:

slow down rather than react

attend rather than strive

behold rather than grasp

David’s desire keeps him anchored. Remaining in God’s presence becomes the space where fear is quieted and courage is cultivated.

In this sense, holy waiting is not inactivity. It is staying put in the presence of God long enough to be changed.

Waiting as Staying

Psalm 27 reframes waiting not as delay, but as faithful staying.

David does not say, “One thing I ask is that God would act quickly.” He says, “One thing I ask is that I may dwell.”

Waiting, then, is not killing time—it is choosing where to be while time passes.

This is how desire is redirected:

When movement stops, desire settles

When we remain, desire clarifies

When we gaze, desire is purified

Desire Shapes Direction

David’s confidence flows from his location:

“The LORD is my light and my salvation—whom shall I fear?”

Courage does not come from certainty about outcomes but from nearness to God. Because David knows where he belongs, he is not easily displaced by threat.

Desire for God stabilizes the soul. It anchors identity, courage, and hope in presence rather than progress.

From David to the Church

What Psalm 27 offers the church is not a strategy, but a posture.

In a restless, outcome-driven age, David’s singular desire calls us back to a fundamental truth:

Before we ask what God is doing, we must ask where we are dwelling.

Holy waiting, then, looks like remaining—choosing presence over productivity, staying before sending, gazing before going.

When desire for God clarifies location, the soul becomes anchored. And from that anchoring, faith, courage, and obedience naturally flow.

When desire is fixed on God, location becomes clear. And when location is secure, the soul is no longer ruled by fear or urgency.

The Natural Fight

It is part of the human condition to rush in and get to work. We are wired to solve as we go, to act first and reflect later. In many ways, we resemble the Hulk—we charge in, smash the problem, and walk away feeling accomplished. At its core, this instinct is about trust: trusting ourselves, our instincts, and what we think is best.

And often, we are chasing good things. Ministry things. Helpful things. Necessary things. We get excited about doing what seems right. But God is not primarily interested in keeping us busy with good things if our busyness causes us to miss His greatness, His wisdom, His power, and His provision. Busyness, after all, is not the same as faithfulness.

Our flesh loves the satisfaction of checking the box. We did something good—so we move on to the next task, the next opportunity, the next moment that feels productive. But the redirection of desire always costs something. It requires sacrificing the low-hanging fruit of immediate accomplishment for the greater gift of deep formation.

The question Scripture presses on us is this: Where do we desire to dwell?

Because how we are formed determines where we are located. And where we choose to remain reveals what we truly desire. The question is not whether we are doing good things, but whether we are becoming the kind of people who can carry what God wants to give. Formation always precedes sending, and dwelling always comes before direction.

The Question

Do we want what God wants for us?

How often do we want God’s activity but God desires to give us his very self. We are not called to an activity, we are called to a person. God desires a relationship. His intimate story of coming close to humanity both in the beginning giving humans his very breath and then again through the incarnate Christ. Consecration begins with desiring a relationship and a place.

Conclusion: A Defining Desire

So the question before us is not simply whether we are willing to serve God, work for God, or be used by God. The deeper question is this: Do we want what God wants for us?

Again and again, Scripture shows us that God is less interested in giving us an assignment than in giving us Himself. We often want God’s activity—His movement, His power, His breakthrough—while God desires to give us His presence. We want outcomes; God wants communion. We want direction; God wants relationship.

From the beginning, this has always been God’s way. He formed humanity by breathing His own life into us. And when that relationship was fractured, He did not send a plan—He came Himself, in the person of Jesus Christ. Consecration, then, does not begin with doing more or trying harder. It begins with desiring rightly. It begins with choosing where—and with whom—we will dwell.

This is why holy waiting matters. Waiting is not God withholding something good from us; it is God making room within us for something greater. In waiting, desire is clarified. In dwelling, desire is purified. And when desire is fixed on God, location becomes clear.

Before God sends us out, He invites us to stay. Before He entrusts power, He forms a people who know how to abide. Before He gives direction, He establishes devotion.

So the invitation is simple—but costly: Will we settle for being busy with good things, or will we choose to dwell with the Giver of all things? Will we rush ahead for progress, or will we remain long enough to be changed?

Because formation always precedes sending. Dwelling always comes before direction. And a defining desire for God Himself is what anchors the soul—and prepares it to carry everything God longs to give.