Wait

“I don’t want to. Let’s get on with it,” I keep saying, but even though there are days I pretend not to hear it, Jesus keeps putting his hand on my shoulder, and saying, “Be still. For just a minute, I want you to stay right where you are.  I will tell you when we’re done here.” 

I’ve been here before, so I should know not to complain.  I’ve walked down a vaguely familiar road, but perhaps not with the same insight that I have now.  I have grown since then, at least I hope so.

Back then, you would have seen me, struggling and flailing, as I tried with all of my strength to keep going.   It was not graceful, and it was definitely not pretty.  And the worst part was that it took so stinking long for me to realize that God did not want this for me.  He never intended for me to be smacking my head against a wall all by myself, crippled by fear.  He had a purpose, but to be brutally honest, I did not trust Him.  That sounds so harsh, even as I type that phrase, but it’s the truth.  I was afraid, because I really did not trust God’s plan.  I believed mine was better, and I fought hard to hold on to it.

Somewhere along the way, with tears streaming down my face, I looked around and realized that God gave me something to focus on in the waiting.  Him.  It was pretty convenient, because He was the only one there with me.  Once I quit trying to force something that had always been out of my control, I sat down next to Him, got comfortable, and discovered so much.  Security, identity, joy- these were just a few of the treasures I found.  When He was sure that I had set down all the extra stuff I was trying to haul with me, He was ready to lead me on in this journey.  And as I took His hand, I was surprised when that urge to dig my heels just a little bit deeper into the ground had vanished.

This afternoon, as I walked my kids up the stairs for nap time, I had such a moment with God.  He speaks to us every single day in so many creative ways, and we get to hear from Him if we’re paying attention.  As Jake and Lilly approach two, they are now walking up the stairs with lots of assistance from a nervous, nail biting Momma.  Lilly, who thinks she needs absolutely no help whatsoever with anything, was the first to start her ascent.  Jake was having a hard time parting with his new, special toy (an apple juice container I fished out of the trash), so he was behind in his climb.  Lilly continued on quickly up the stairs, without my help.

When she reached the landing, about six stairs from where Jake was, I asked her to wait.  Usually when we hike up the stairs, I have one on either side of me and I walk holding each one’s hand or sometimes I walk directly behind them.  Neither one is ready to climb independently, or maybe it’s just me who’s not quite there yet.  Since Jake took a tumble down the bottom three when he was younger, stairs make me sweat.    I don't allow them to drag blankets behind them or anything else that could trip them up.  I always make sure that they each have two empty hands.  When their hands are empty, they are able to hold on to me with one and the banister with the other.  We travel light, I guess you could say!

As I watched my daughter on the landing, her reaction surprised me at first.  But then, I recognized the tears.  She did not understand why I told her to wait.  I tried to explain that she could continue on once Jake and I caught up to her.  I tried to tell her that I was looking out for her safety.  She didn’t understand why she had to wait for us to catch up, since she was clearly ready to go all by herself.  When I say that she did not grasp any of these concepts, what I really mean is she lost it.  She didn’t just whine.  She didn’t just sniffle.  She engaged in the most desperate sob-fest I have ever witnessed.  All because I asked her to wait. 

Psalm 46:10 says, “Be still and know that I am God.”  During a past season of waiting on God, this verse became my anchor. I purchased a wooden plaque several years ago with these sweet words painted across it to help me to remember to do exactly what it says.  It sits on the top shelf of the bookcase in our living room.  When I read this simple, brief verse, I can’t help but exhale. 

Today, I still struggle with waiting.  I want to be moving, not standing still.  The word “still” means motionless or tranquil. Stillness is peacefulness.  It means to possess a quiet knowing as we humbly focus on God, not ourselves or the situation we're facing.  It means acknowledging who He is and who we are not.  What strikes me as ironic, though, is that the state of being still only seems like the absence of action.  To remain still and wait on the Lord requires tremendous work.  It takes concentrating on His goodness, even when life is not good.

As I scooped up my daughter and wiped away her tears, I realized that even if I have no clue why God is telling me today to be still and wait, His reasons are good enough for me.  And I am willingly emptying my hands so that I can hold onto Him and His promise that He will tell me when to take the next step and that He will walk with me.