Since I was about six years old I
dreaded going to the doctor -- not so much for the actual visit, but because I
really hated waiting rooms. Sitting in a sterile and drab office lined with
uncomfortable chairs and stacks of old magazines gave me a hemmed in feeling.
Depending on how long I’d have to stay, my patience would give out and I’d
start to panic, somehow thinking I’d never get out.
As a Christ
follower, I’m often in a similar place – only it’s God’s waiting room. I can’t
just cancel the appointment or leave when I’m tired of waiting if I want to
experience the blessing of His peace and presence. I’m there until it’s time to
move on, which usually means learning important life lessons and developing a
deeper level of trust and dependence.
Like all
waiting rooms, spiritual ones require special grace and patience. I believe
this is true for several reasons.
They don't
tell time. Uncertainty
about how long I’ll be in a place I do not want to be waiting for God to break
through with deliverance is uncomfortable to say the least. God uses these
ambiguous situations to test my faith, challenging me to grow and mature to
become more like Christ (Jas 1:3-4). When I enter a season of waiting, my
initial response is to look for a way of escape, much like the Israelites did
(Ex 32).
During our
first year in Korea, I was often tempted to doubt God’s wisdom in leading us
there. I'd wake up many mornings convinced we had somehow missed God’s leading
and come to the wrong place. As a result, I developed a back-up plan for
bailing out and returning to the states. I fell into a pattern of rehearsing our quick escape -- how we
could pack, book tickets, move back into our house, and put the girls in their previous
school with an almost seamless transition. The more I dwelt on this, the
less I was able to trust God and more miserable I became.
My husband knew
from experience that running from the uncomfortable was not a good idea, and he
challenged me to trust the Lord and wait on him. I slowly began to see that making
a rash decision to leave would mean forfeiting God’s grace, which led me to
repentance. By finally acknowledging that his ways were higher than mine, and
his thoughts far greater than my own, I begin to come into agreement with the
mindset of the Spirit that I was where I was for purposes beyond my understanding
(Rom 11:33-36). This mindset led me to submit to God and present myself as his
living sacrifice, willing to do what he called me to do and wait as long as he
called me to wait (Rom 12:1-2). As I
exercised the gift of faith in his goodness, he began reminding me that his
plans for my life were good and designed to make me mature and complete,
lacking nothing (Jer 29:11, Jas 1:4).
They're
restrictive. Waiting rooms leave us feeling hemmed in or trapped, and this at
times can lead to panic. I like to do things quickly and move on, which
obviously isn't the pace of waiting rooms. Instead, the interval can feel long
and tedious. I’m always free to go, but running ahead or from God is never the
right choice. He wants me to wait patiently so He can prepare me and others for
the next step.
One of my
overused lines while we were in Korea was, “I no
longer have grace for this.”
My husband would give me a look that said, “Oh really?” He didn’t have to say any
words because I knew what he was thinking – that if and when it was time for my
season of waiting to end God would let us both know. And until that time I DID
have grace, but I had to choose by God’s gift of faith to stand in it.
I remember
going to the local Korean hospital for tests and had to wait a long time to see
the specialist. When I walked into the room and saw it was filled with people
my heart started pounding with a sense of panic about being hemmed in a room
with so many people speaking a language I could not understand. Even though I had no idea how
long they had been waiting, the room felt tense and unwelcoming.
Though my gut response was to panic,
I remembered one of my students who usually sat with his eyes closed while he
was waiting for class to start. His face always looked calm and peaceful, which
spoke volumes to me. Because he was a Christian, I assumed he was practicing
resting in God’s presence through prayer while he waited.
As I thought about him, I sensed the
Lord nudging me to try sitting still and praying. I found a seat in the back of the room
where I reluctantly plopped down, closed my eyes and went over the Lord’s
Prayer and as many verses as I could remember. I had to wait almost an hour,
but by focusing on truth instead of my frustrating situation I endured it with
a lot more grace that I had in the past.
I realized God was giving me a
snapshot of what resting in a place of uncertainty looked like so I would start
applying it to more of my life – no matter how long I had to wait. I also
realized that the same peace I was experiencing there was mine for the longer
duration if I’d learn to trust in God’s timing and refuse to fret.
They test
our hope for deliverance. In the
waiting room of a doctor’s office there’s a high probability that I’ll see the
doctor and leave at some point in the day. With God, I realize that the timing is
not so clear, which often leaves me wondering how long I’ll have to wait. I
know from experience that it could be a day, months or even years.
I prayed for
five years as I waited for God to bring Mark into my life. During this time I
cried a lot and even started praying several times a day that God would send
the man he wanted for me. Some days and weeks dragged on to the point that I
didn’t think I could wait any longer. I would meet someone, think they were
God’s answer, and start moving forward in the relationship only to hit a wall
of disappointment when it did not work out. Then I would return to the waiting
room, where I had to continually learn what it meant to be still and know that he
is God, not me.
Twenty seven
years later, I’m more thankful for that time of waiting and preparation than
any other season in my life. For one, I’d never have been ready to marry until
I matured some more and dealt with severe pain from my past. Plus, God used
that season for me to study and learn about his character as I was pursuing a
master’s degree in theology. When we met, I was spiritually and emotionally
ready, not perfect, to commit the rest of my life to marriage and having a
family. I cannot say that I would have been able to persevere through some of
our challenging trials if I had not learned what I did while I was waiting on
God.
They expose
stubbornness. As a child,
I used to have melt downs in waiting rooms, begging my mom to get me out. Even
as an adult I’ve left doctor’s offices before my appointment because the
waiting was taking up too much time. Instead of giving thanks, seeing the time
as a chance to recharge, read and have some quiet, I would grumble.
My relationship
with God is incredibly similar. For the past many years I’ve been in one
season of waiting after the other: waiting to get married, to have children, to
see them mature and grow up; waiting for friendships to flourish, for
relationships to heal, for greater wisdom and understanding to live in a way
that honors God.
Our last year in Korea was another
time of intense struggle as I weekly pleaded with God, often on my face with
cries of desperation, that He would open the door for us to return to the
states. With our son in Alabama and both girls in college in North Carolina,
the distance carved a hole in my heart that seemed to expand and
ache more each day. I came to a new end of my ability to press on in my
own strength and began clinging to God for moment by
moment grace just to get through the day.
When I
chose on some days not to trust His timing and pushed Him away, I immediately
fell into a pit of anger and despair (a miserable place to be if you haven’t
experienced it). After wearing myself out wrestling with God, I would come back
to a place of surrender, trust and thankfulness. It’s there that I found peace
and assurance in His unchanging goodness and promise to deliver me at the right
minute – not a second too early or late.
He finally
did open the door for us to come home to be with our family. As I look back on
those years of waiting, I can see how He used them to radically change me in
ways that never could have happened otherwise. Through some painful and often
seemingly unbearable times I am learning to trust God more, to
persevere in His strength instead of my own and to rest in His
timing, knowing that He’s in charge, overseeing my life with tender care and
compassion.
“Wait for the Lord; be strong, and
let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” Ps 27:14
