Waiting. Almost every season of life is marked by some type of waiting. There is the day to day waiting in traffic, in the drive-through line, for your friend to call you back. These moments in which the seconds tic by slowly and loudly can feel agonizing. Yet what are they compared to the days, weeks and years of waiting for a job, a spouse, a baby, graduation from college; the list of monumental periods of waiting goes on
Our human hearts grow faint, torn between the drive to race out of this slow spell or lie down and sleep until the long-awaited answer comes. And while I anxiously watch my morning coffee brewing, feeling my need for my daily dose if caffeine, one friend waits for reprieve from physical pain and another waits for a positive pregnancy and another waits for that wedding date that feels so far away.
I want one of my three genie wishes to be an end to waiting. Let's have have it all now - all the answers, all the blessings. The tragedies too? Maybe. Better firm earth beneath my feet on which I can fall faint than a net in which I lie tangled and held captive.
God, who of course us not anything akin to a genie, does not share my distaste for waiting. He draws me to find purpose and meaning in the wait. As I read through the Psalms this summer, I am constantly faced with this word I hate - wait.
"Indeed, none who wait for you shall be put to shame." v.3
"Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation, for you I wait all te day long." v. 5
"May integrity and uprightness preserve me, for I wait for you." v. 21
All of these references come from Psalm 25 alone. I was struck by this emphasis, as I long to know what is coming next and rush through this season of temporary jobs to get to the "real stuff" that I've been dreaming of. All of these "waits," however, are in reference to waiting for Jesus. There is an ultimate, overarching wait that will last my entire life. This is the wait to be in the presence of Jesus.
I think of how I wait for the things of this life - my cheeseburger, my internet to start working again, a spouse, my opportunity to travel the world. Do my thoughts regarding the return of Jesus come as consistently and fervently as my impatient thoughts for my next meal or the end of the work day?
Disheartened, I gaze at my own humanity and smallness. Inspired, I dream of what wonders should overwhelm all other visions for my future. For a moment, I can catch the splendor of this particular wait - knowing exactly what I will be gaining and yet having so hazy a view of what such intimacy with Jesus would look like. Surely, if lesser dreams can occupy my thoughts for days and years on end, the mystery and assurance of this future should capture my imagination and fill me with giddy anticipation and impatience at all times.
Surely.
But sadly, they do not.
Not only do I dismiss dreams for this future. I even ignore time with Jesus here in this body, while He is absent physically but very much ready to communicate with me at any moment.
Like a scorned admirer, I forget that he called. I forget to thank him for the many splendid gifts he gives each day. I refuse his invitation to dinner as I pine away for everything else - people, jobs, significance in my work, answers, money, things, places.
It's absurd. I'm absurd. Thankfully, God does not respond like a human lover would.
He continues to plan extravagantly for our bright future and takes delight in each moment I choose to forget all other waiting as I wait for Him.
