avocado: To Those Who Wait

It’s not a fun topic, but it’s one that’s burning in my heart to write about. At the Storyline Conference last month, I was challenged to keep sharing: “What will the world miss if I don’t tell my story?” Well, it doesn’t seem like the world will miss too much—after all, there is nothing new under the sun. I have no original thoughts to offer to the conversation. And yet. Yet my experience is unlike any other experience in the history of the world. Yet my longings are the same as everyone else’s. And that’s the point: my stories with my longings share a different perspective on the same story that’s been told for thousands of years. Not many will read this and I’m happy about that because most who do are friends and walking through this journey with me.

There have been a lot of conversations in the past few months about what’s next in life. One thing has become crystal clear: we’re all waiting for something. Some know what they are waiting for: an international move, purchasing a house, moving closer to family. Some are waiting for a relationship to start or the next phase of the relationship: waiting for the “right one,” meeting “the one” but waiting for a proposal, waiting for a wedding, or for a baby. Some are in employment limbo. Or some of us are lucky enough to have combinations of these events and not really know what’s on the horizon. (There is no sarcasm in my writing tone. Really. None.)

In fact, I am becoming more convinced that if any part of waiting has some notion that we are waiting for life to start or waiting for a reason to be happy, then we will die waiting. There will always be another degree, another certification, another test. There will always be more money to make. There will always be imperfect pets and children and family.

But you already knew this. You might have stopped reading because you’ve heard it all before. You say, “JoAnn, I know that I’m waiting, but knowing it doesn’t change anything.”

It’s true. Our awareness is just the first step—an awakening to the reason for our discontentment. I would like to propose that we continue to wait, but to wait with joy, with anticipation, even if this anticipatory joy is mingled with tears.

The Bible has 400 years between the Old and New Testament. Can you imagine? 400 years ago my forefathers never had a thought of America. In the song “Painting Pictures of Egypt,” Sara Groves sings: “If it comes too quick/ I may not appreciate it/ Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?/ And if it comes too quick/ I may not recognize it/ Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?”

While I have trouble waiting a week, a month and definitely years, I believe the longer the delay, the sweeter the fulfillment of joy. And in this season of Advent, we reflect on the waiting figures in the Bible we would like to emulate. Anna and Simeon and Mary waiting for the consolation, the solace, the salvation of Israel. They were oppressed people who were waiting with expectation.

Luke tells us: “Now there was a man in Jerusalem called Simeon, who was righteous and devout. He was waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah” (Luke 2.25-26). This righteous man was in some ways waiting to die, but knew it wouldn’t happen until his earthly eyes saw the Savior. What did he do on that joyful day in the temple when the baby Jesus arrived?

Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying:

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
    you may now dismiss your servant in peace.
For my eyes have seen your salvation,
    which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:
a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
    and the glory of your people Israel” (Luke 2.28-32).

The joy of Simeon must have been beautiful to behold. Mary and Joseph marveled at it.

For us, Henri Nouwen has many great points about waiting: “People are afraid—afraid of inner feelings, afraid of other people, and also afraid of the future. Fearful people have a hard time waiting, because when we are afraid we want to get away from where we are.”

I have struggled with waiting. There are a lot of things in my life that I thought would look very different than they do. I wasn’t afraid of the future, just curious how it would turn out. Everyone assured me there was nothing to worry about—follow your dreams, listen to the Lord, pray passionately, and love fiercely. All other things will come in due time. It’s true, I suppose. They didn’t tell me about the pain and tears involved with waiting on the Lord. I’m not as afraid of the inner feelings that Nouwen describes. My experience with this is that my honesty has made a lot of people uncomfortable. However, many have become dear friends because they have been looking for someone who not afraid to admit she is waiting.

Nouwen continues:

People who wait have received a promise that allows them to wait. They have received something that is at work in them, like a seed that has started to grow. This is very important. We can only really wait if what we are waiting for has already begun for us. So waiting is never a movement from nothing to something. It is always a movement from something to something more. . . .

The secret of waiting is the faith that the seed has been planted, that something has begun. Active waiting means to be present fully to the moment, in the conviction that something is happening where you are and that you want to be present to it. A waiting person is someone who is present to the moment, who believes that this moment is the moment. . . .

To wait open-endedly is an enormously radical attitude toward life. So is to trust that something will happen to us that is far beyond our own imaginings. So, too, is giving up control over our future and letting God define our life, trusting that God molds us according to God’s love and not according to our fear. The spiritual life is a life in which we wait, actively present to the moment, trusting that new things will happen to us, new things that are far beyond our own imagination, fantasy, or prediction. That, indeed, is a very radical stance toward life in a world preoccupied with control.

What do you think? Want to join me in radical waiting? Want to join me in believing that God’s love is not withholding anything good from us? I’m not where I thought I’d be in life. In fact, in many ways, I’ve hit a reset button. Ten years ago I met the first person I ever thought I would seriously date and just knew if we dated we would get married. But we were just friends and stayed that way. I graduated college and took a position in Asia. I came back confused about so many things, alone, living with my parents and a deep darkness took over my mind and it was difficult to see the light, an impossible thing to hope for joy. The days were battles but the war lasted years. Then healing came, slowly. I have scars on my heart, reminding me of the beauty of overcoming. Out of that season, I made beautiful new friendships, developed professionally and became forever acquainted with how to love someone in pain.

The years passed—dreams came and went. It looked like I might have another chance for all my dreams. I met someone and we were friends. Was this what I had been waiting for? Fervent, passionate prayers that the Lord would search me and know my heart and give me its desires. But the heart is deceitful above all things and no good thing does God withhold from those who love him. It was a false alarm—another just friends. But in the midst of that time, another opportunity arose to go back to Asia. All excuses were stripped away and it was time to go again, remembering the scars that had healed. It was a crazy time—the stimulation of a city with 16,000,000 people is difficult to ignore. I was alone. Yet, the Lord was mindful of the humble state of his servant and the blessings overflowed in my heart. It seemed so clear: this was what I had been waiting for. Hallelujah!

But sometimes our waiting means we are waiting for things to end. Even good things. And now, I am back in the room of my youth, working a job I could have had in high school and wondering if any of it is worth it. Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? I know it’s worth it. I know that Simeon saw Jesus in the temple. I know that the next thing will just mean I’m waiting for the thing after it. I will learn to wait with joy, to be content whatever the circumstance.

Even so, come quickly Lord.

“To Those Who Wait” –Bethany Dillon