The Art of Waiting

 

I glance at the title I chose for this piece and I smile at it almost mocking my choice of words “The art of waiting” is no art at all I say to myself, if anything waiting right now feels messy, it feels painful. But then again most of my art feels messy anyway.

I know waiting is never fun (unless and maybe if you’re mega patient) but sometimes more than others, waiting literally hurts. And right now I’m hurting.

This morning I had a good chat with God (a real heart to heart) I told Him I was scared of the next couple of months, and that I was afraid of asking Him directly and clearly for what I wanted, after all who am I to demand something? But then out of nowhere this sense of peace overwhelmed me and I felt Him saying, “Ask Me” and it felt… nice, but it took inviting Him in on these fears to hear from Him.So often I see myself placing my relationship with God so far away, almost untouchable.

And I wonder how much that hurts Him, to see this girl He created treat Him like a stranger.  To see me so scared to ask for what my heart desires, after all the one thing I do know is that He cares.  I read about it daily.

(Matthew 6:26)

So why is it so hard to ask?

Honestly, I think it comes down to our human interactions.  We’re used to hearing answers to our questions even if they’re not always what we want, but we don’t usually wait in silence for hours, days or even years to hear back.  I think that’s what makes waiting for the unknown so hard.  I say I trust this beautiful God who has so frequently seen me through things in my life (whether I’ve acknowledge it or not) but every time I have to sit and wait, I panic.  I get scared and I stop trusting.

I so quickly want to help Him out because I obviously know what’s best for me. -Note the sarcasm-

I want to lay out the best action plan to get me to where I think it’s best, and in doing so, I limit Him. Thankfully God doesn’t work like that, His timing if anything is perfect, and He knows me better than I know myself.

His view of my life is greater than I will ever be able to see, and comprehend.

Instead I’m trying to approach this season a little different, and just like my morning conversation I want to invite God in on my worry, and be honest with Him about my hardships even if that hardship means accepting that I have trouble trusting Him with every second, and in every area of my life, because I like to think He cares about that as well.  And that in my worry there is healing, there is growing.

That in my worry lies an opportunity to learn from Him, and His love for me, that rather than having the answer that my heart desires the outcome is a chance to better understand the plans God has for me, and to use them for His glory.

I’m sitting here wondering how much of my life I have spent and will spend in a season similar to this one, where the future is so unknown, a season where life seems fragile, like if I were to touch, move, or even breathe; something, everything will break.  And the truth is I probably will encounter seasons like this again, and so will you, but I want to encourage you the same way I encourage my anxious heart to hold on to His Promises, to hold on to His words and His truth, and to invite Him in.

Look back at your life and realize the moments He’s been there so clearly, so vividly, and breathe.