It’s early morning. Other than the usual noises that accompany these surroundings there’s a stillness in this hospital waiting room. My second born lies behind closed doors waiting for her labor to bring forth her sweet little girl. Babies are born in their own time. No matter how much you long for them to enter your world they come, for the most part, when they are ready. We have yearned for this day to come and even though we are a step closer, we sit here waiting, the hours ticking by.
I think it might be the hardest part of this life sometimes, waiting, that is.
In the quiet I feel the anticipation and the longing for the hours to speed by. I ache for this season to be over, for a new life to begin. But to everything there is a season…a time to be born, a time to die, a time to rejoice, a time to mourn. Why is it that these seasons seem to take forever?
What is it that makes the waiting so hard? Is it the anticipation or is it the longing that yearns to be birthed? Is it the weariness of the trial I face, the hopelessness that taunts my soul? It tries me to the core sometimes. In those moments its easy to wonder if things will ever be different. Why do I have to yearn for things and to only be put on hold to wait? Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength, it says. They shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall walk and not faint.
Sometimes I feel like life is one big waiting room. Oftentimes I ache with the longings that wait to be birthed. Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life Proverbs says. Everything has its season. Fine wines become delicacies while sitting on a shelf. Appetizing cheeses are aged in cold cellars.
I’ve never been one that sits still easily as I anticipate things to come. Yet in the midst of these holding places God seems to use these places to age things to perfection in me. In the uncomfortable, cramped places magical things happen inside such as caterpillars becoming butterflies.
Waiting seems to be a thing with God.
Joseph waited in prison, falsely accused. David waited in hiding, anointed as king, yet on the run. Noah waited for God’s promise to show up while building a boat, taunted by people around him. Abraham waited from tent to tent for 25 years. John waited on an island. Jesus waited in obscurity for 30 years. Seasons of waiting have their perfect work.
In these places where I yearn for things to be different the impeccable work of the soul finds its place. There’s something supernatural that happens in the process that often isn’t made known until the day dawns. It’s then I can often see a glimpse of what was going on in the unseen places where things were being aged in me.
Joseph woke up one morning in prison. The warden came to his cell, unlocked the doors and set him free. He walked into Pharaoh’s presence to interpret a dream. Pharaoh recognized that there was something different about him. Once the dream was interpreted the Pharaoh said to Joseph there was no one as wise and discreet in all the land as he.
Something happened to Joseph in his waiting room cell. Something happens to me in mine. Lost places that hide away in my soul make their way out into the light as God becomes the one I desperately need. I find my heart yielding to trust Him as I realize that without Him I am nothing. I begin to find the sweet spot of His embrace. This place where time seems to stand still begins to have its perfect work in me.
He brings me out of these seasons of life when all is set in place, when what is needful has been done. New life unfolds before me. I am emptied of the strength that has carried me on its own. I find Him there, meeting me with His. I find that I can run and not grow weary. I can walk and not faint. For in this waiting room of life His power has been made perfect in my weakness.
©copyrighted: 2011; Julie L. Todd