There are seasons in the Christian life when faithfulness feels exhausting.
You pray, but the answer never seems to come. You repent, only to find yourself wrestling with the same sin. You open your Bible, attend church, forgive, serve, and try again.
And yet, some days, nothing seems to change.
You begin to wonder whether all this effort is actually achieving anything.
Perhaps the most difficult part of following Christ is simply continuing when there is nothing to show for it.
Much like my swimming pool.
It’s a strange thing, really. I spend hours removing leaves, cleaning filters, balancing chemicals, and maintaining water that sometimes nobody swims in for weeks.
If I calculated the hours spent maintaining it against the hours spent enjoying it, I’d probably question why I keep it at all.
But I don’t.
Because I know that one summer afternoon, someone will dive in.
There will be laughter. Children splashing. Perhaps a quiet moment floating beneath the blue sky, with nothing demanding my attention.
And suddenly, those ordinary hours of maintenance will have served their purpose.
I keep the water ready because I believe the moment is worth waiting for.
The apostle Paul writes:
Scripture“But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.”
Romans 8:25
Paul is speaking about something far greater than the rewards of human effort. He is speaking about creation longing for redemption, about suffering, and about the glory that has not yet been revealed.
Christian hope is rooted in a promise we cannot yet see fulfilled.
And that means much of the Christian life will be lived in the waiting.
Prayers offered without immediate answers. Forgiveness extended without an apology. Obedience practised when nobody is watching.
But there is something important the swimming pool cannot teach us.
The pool depends entirely on my maintenance.
My salvation does not.
Jesus told His disciples, “I am going there to prepare a place for you.” (John 14:2)
What a remarkable reversal.
We spend our lives trying to preserve the things we love, while Christ Himself is preparing what He has promised.
Our hope rests upon His faithfulness, even when ours falters.
So when the Christian life feels like an endless exercise in maintenance, remember that the waiting is not meaningless.
The prayers matter. The repentance matters. The small, unseen acts of obedience matter.
And perhaps faithfulness sometimes looks as ordinary as a man standing beside a swimming pool, quietly removing leaves.
Not because summer has arrived.
But because he believes it will.
