To all those who are waiting…
I see you. I feel you. I am right there with you. Waiting sucks, doesn’t it?
We are all waiting for something. To meet a special someone, for a baby, for a promotion, for enough money, for a new opportunity, for a new house, for a new job, for a fresh start, for answers, for healing, for wisdom, for answered prayers. Regardless of what you are waiting for you, you are not alone.
In this winter season we find ourselves in, does the waiting seem harder to you? It seems especially hard to me. As we are stuck inside waiting for the snow to thaw, the roads to be plowed and for spring to come, I can’t help but be reminded of all the other things I’m waiting for. And as another snow storm barrels towards us this week, I’m reminded yet again of all the waiting I’ll be doing.
In today’s society of instant gratification, we aren’t bred to wait. Waiting is hard. Waiting is painful. Waiting is confusing. Why not me?
There are all these sayings that swirl around us. “It’ll happen in the right time.” “It’s all for the best.” “It must not be meant to be.” I choose to believe they are well intentioned but that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to swallow.
In the waiting,
There is pain.
There is sadness.
There is uncertainty.
There is confusion.
There is frustration.
But in the waiting,
There is growth.
There is healing.
There is wisdom.
There is preparation.
There is enjoyment.
There is purpose. There is purpose in the waiting.
But goodness gracious, waiting is hard.
Sometimes the waiting doesn’t make sense. Sometimes the waiting is just one more thing that isn’t going right. Sometimes the waiting sends you down a rabbit hole of self-pity and lots of wine.
And that’s ok!
It’s ok to long for something. It’s ok to wonder why. Its ok to wonder why me, to compare yourself to others, to ask why her?
But don’t forget that waiting has purpose, even if you can’t see it now. And if waiting is easy, it wouldn’t have nearly the same effect now would it?
We are all waiting for something.
Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried;
Quietly, patiently, lovingly, God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate . . .
And the Master so gently said, “Wait.”
“Wait? you say wait?” my indignant reply.
“Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is your hand shortened? Or have you not heard?
By faith I have asked, and I’m claiming your Word.
“My future and all to which I relate
Hangs in the balance, and you tell me to wait?
I’m needing a ‘yes’, a go-ahead sign,
Or even a ‘no’ to which I can resign.
“You promised, dear Lord, that if we believe,
We need but to ask, and we shall receive.
And Lord I’ve been asking, and this is my cry:
I’m weary of asking! I need a reply.”
Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate,
As my Master replied again, “Wait.”
So I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut,
And grumbled to God, “So, I’m waiting for what?”
He seemed then to kneel, and His eyes met with mine . . .
and He tenderly said, “I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead and cause mountains to run.
“I could give all you seek and pleased you would be.
You’d have what you want, but you wouldn’t know Me.
You’d not know the depth of my love for each saint.
You’d not know the power that I give to the faint.
“You’d not learn to see through clouds of despair;
You’d not learn to trust just by knowing I’m there.
You’d not know the joy of resting in Me
When darkness and silence are all you can see.
“You’d never experience the fullness of love
When the peace of My spirit descends like a dove.
You would know that I give, and I save, for a start,
But you’d not know the depth of the beat of My heart.
“The glow of my comfort late into the night,
The faith that I give when you walk without sight.
The depth that’s beyond getting just what you ask
From an infinite God who makes what you have last.
“You’d never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that My grace is sufficient for thee.
Yes, your dearest dreams overnight would come true,
But, oh, the loss, if you missed what I’m doing in you.
“So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see
That the greatest of gifts is to truly know me.
And though oft My answers seem terribly late,
My most precious answer of all is still . . . Wait.”