Good morning…
We hate to wait.
We hate to wait for sunrise.
We hate to wait for pain to pass.
We hate to wait for seeds to sprout.
We hate to wait for needs to be met.
We hate to wait for results to return.
We hate to wait for healing to happen.
We hate to wait for discomfort to dissolve.
We hate to wait for clear answers to come.
We hate to wait for a new normal to mature.
We hate to wait for fears to loosen their grip.
We hate to wait for depressed grief to be lifted.
We hate to wait for the birth of God’s blessings.
Yet as we wait still in the dark, long hour after long hour, we notice slight changes. We gradually sense ourselves shedding control, shedding expectations, shedding our pre-planned agenda. We start to see ourselves live into a soulful prayer: “If not my way, my time, my desire, God, help me to surrender to Your way, in Your time, according to Your desire.” As we wait through seasons of divine darkness, not seeing, not feeling, not knowing our way forward, over time we sense our puny plans falling away to make space for God’s expansive more and more and more.
After surrendering his earthly life to die on the cross, Jesus waited in the deep darkness of the tomb, waiting…waiting…waiting, before emerging into God’s immeasurably more. He was supreme in the beginning and—leading the resurrection parade—he is supreme in the end. From beginning to end he’s there, towering far above everything, everyone. So spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding. Not only that, but all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe—people and things, animals and atoms—get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured down from the cross (Colossians 1:18-20, MSG).
…Sue…
