by Keith Harrell

Dear God,

I want good things from life. A close family with moral strength. Good health. Friendships that are rich and meaningful. I want to grow in depth and maturity; to show more and more of Your love to my children. I want my marriage to be rich, for my wife and I to care for each other despite our sin and differences. I want to be able to forgive quickly, to put things behind me and get on with Your work. To have victory over these periodic bouts with despair. I want my metabolism to speed up so I can button my pants without lying down. And by the way, I'd like all of this right now or maybe in the next few weeks. And if for some reason, God, you should choose not to grant these requests, then I would appreciate some sort of explanation.

Love, Keith

This journal entry reflects something of my impatient posture toward God; my unwillingness to wait. And yet there has been a stirring in my heart, because I've known for some time now that waiting is essential to love. I've known that love is patient; that it doesn't seek its own way; and it bears and endures all things. And I'm smart enough, I suppose, to know that these virtues, by their definitions, require that I do without. That I suffer.

But I hate problems that won't go away. I hate to watch people change so slowly or sometimes not at all. I hate those temptations that seem chronic and unyielding. And so I struggle to be one who waits.

I must admit my hesitation to write on the subject of waiting. Because now, perhaps more than ever, we live in an age of apathy. Christians and non-Christians alike are so easily conformed to our decaying culture. It's rare in this day to find individuals who are truly troubled by the sin that thrives both within them and around them. Bad things, it seems, just don't bother us all that much.

I can't tell you how many times I've marveled at someone's ability to remain in an unhealthy relationship. "What patience!" I've thought, "what endurance!" Only later did I realize that what looked like patience was in reality, apathy. The willingness to remain in an abusive environment was actually due to an unwillingness to feel the full impact of the abuse. Patience had nothing to do with it.

Waiting is a form of restraint. And therefore, it involves suffering. If I choose not to eat my favorite dessert, I have chosen to suffer; to do without what I feel would satisfy me. The person who is patient longs for those things that will satisfy now. But he is willing to wait. The disillusioned wife will long for her husband to be kind and gentle. The sexual addict will long to know God in a way that frees him from his cravings. Longing and waiting walk hand in hand.

When we wait, we choose God's way. The way of joy. The way of suffering. We have resisted the strong, seemingly irresistible urge to act, and in so doing we have chosen to feel weak. A friend speaks ill of us and we choose not to retaliate but to endure the embarrassment, praying quietly for the restoration of our friendship, and all the while we look foolish for doing so.

Waiting is a quiet but active posture. A disciplined movement toward, not away from both God and others. It is not passive or weak, although others often see it this way. It is a lonely place. But we can rest knowing that we are in good company.

The disciples spent three years with Jesus, and in many ways they seemed more petty when He died than when they first met Him. So unaware of Jesus were they, that they couldn't even stay awake with Him when His pain was most unbearable. And yet Jesus waited, knowing that His life would end before they would love Him.

The person who waits offers life to others. He is a standing invitation, a light that is always left on.

Copyright 2000 by Keith Harrell, All Rights Reserved