Worth the Wait

"Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you."

 

~ Matthew 7:7

 

 

You’ve been on a long, strenuous journey. Each step is a battle as your body cries out in pain. Your heart grows heavy when you examine the vast expanse of barren land stretching out to taunt you. But then, you see it- the faint outline of a house in the distance. As you grow closer, you see that there is a gleaming light radiating from the windowsills. At first, hope flickers inside you like the glow of a fitful lightning bug, but from there it begins to grow. It glimmers with all of its eager brilliance and illuminates the most dark and desperate chambers of your soul. It’s the hope that maybe, just maybe, some compassionate spirit in that house will open his doors, take you in, and give you a place to rest your weary eyes. He’ll give you something to satisfy your emaciated stomach. He’ll help you find the hope you’ve been looking for all along.

 

The very thought is enough to turn your burdened gait into a rejuvenated sprint. The bitter wind eats at the nape of your frostbitten neck, but you push against it with everything you have. Finally, with a pounding heart and bated breath, you find yourself on the doorstep of this house, this fortress- an ornate mansion that towers over you in greatness. Anxiously, you pound on the door with your trembling fist. Nothing. You knock a little harder- furiously, even.

 

“Please, sir. Let me in,” you mutter desperately. “I know you can hear me!” Silence. Earsplitting silence. We don’t know whether to be more persistent in our plea, or to dejectedly walk away.

 

Isn’t this how we feel with God sometimes? We’ve come so far. We’ve knocked so hard. We’ve waited so long for Him to bring us into His embraces, to offer us peace and rest. But it seems as if He’s remained silent. He’s left us out in the cold to grovel in our despair. He must be the callous mansion owner watching over us from His lofty place of warmth and comfort; He must be mocking us in our agony. Believe me. I know the feeling. I know what it’s like to feel as if my fervent prayers somehow disintegrate into all of God’s incomprehensible breadth. I know what it’s like too feel like I’m so low on His priority list that I’ve just been shoved to the bottom of the stack. I know what it’s like to feel like His pawn in some sick, twisted game. I’ve been there. We all have, at some point or another- whether we’ve never been able to muster a prayer or whether we’ve prayed the same one 1,000 times.

 

And in the midst of it all, we are challenged with a word, a command, that arouses torrents of overwhelming frustration: “Wait.” Wait for things to get better. Wait for reconciliation in that relationship. Wait to find what you’re looking for. Wait for healing Wait for peace. Wait.

 

“Wait, God? Are you freaking kidding me? Do you know how cold it is out here? Do you know how lost, hungry, and hopeless I am? Why on Earth do you want me to wait!?”

 

I know that nothing can be said to relieve the temporary affliction that accompanies periods of prolonged suffering. But I can offer a few eternal promises: your perseverance will strengthen you; it will conform you to the image of God: “For we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance character, and character, hope. And this hope will not disappoint us because God’s love has been poured out to us through Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 5:3-5). You will be renewed and your steps will be refreshed; you won’t just walk- you’ll soar: “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they’ll mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not become weary; they shall walk and not become faint” (Isaiah 40:31).  You will yield a reward far greater than what seems imaginable: “Be patient, therefore, brothers, until the coming of the Lord. See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and the late rains. You also, be patient, for the coming of the Lord is at hand” (James 5:7-8). Greater things are coming. Greater things you will find if you seek them earnestly, no matter how long and strenuous the journey may be. No matter how long you’re waiting on the doorstep.

 



 

            And while you’re waiting? By no means do you have to like it. By no means do your prayers have to be “nice.” It’s perfectly okay to raise your voice with God; I don’t think He minds. It’s okay to knock harder- put a hole in the door, if absolutely necessary. God will see your persistence. Into your persistence, He will pour His incredible power. Others will see your faith, and they’ll be stunned. (Or maybe they’ll think you’re crazy. That’s okay too.) Your renewed spirit will shine bright enough to illuminate a thousand nights. And when the time is right, the bitter winds will shift. The horizon will brighten. A benevolent man with scarred hands and a compassionate gaze will come down to greet you. You’ll find that in His house are many rooms, filled with broken, imperfect people. All along, He has been preparing a place for you. It offers shelter. It offers hope and healing. It offers reconciliation. It offers satisfaction and peace. And it’s far greater than anything you ever could have imagined. You rest in this man’s embrace and thank Him for hearing your cry. He commends you for not giving up.

 

            So don’t give up.

            Keep on asking- because the life you receive will be abundant.

            Keep on seeking- because you might be surprised at what you find.

           

            Keep on knocking- because when the door finally creaks open, what lies beyond the threshold will be worth the wait.

 

 



Shining in the Night

"Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into the light."
~ Helen Keller

 

 

Faith. The glimmering ray of hope that permeates the darkness of human fallibility. Since the beginning of time, confidence in something greater has illuminated the path of mankind across lofty peaks and through dusks of despair. But in the midst of overwhelming obscurity, the rays of faith are often depleted of their light. Endless nights of depravity, desperation, and despondence have the power to deprive even the most fervent individuals of their most blazing beliefs, and many succumb to the blackened depths. 

It is no mystery that we live in a world ridden with pain and suffering. Disaster strikes. Relationships crumble. Our precious plans fail. A lot of the times, my faith isn’t just challenged by my own distress. It is challenged by the affliction of those I love and care about, and those I wish I could save. I see tears falling from the eyes of my friends, and I wonder why God won’t wipe them away. I turn on the news and hear stories of violence and bloodshed, and I wonder how a loving God could allow such terrible things to take place. A gleaming beacon of faith no longer brightens the sky above me as I look for the answers within its vastness. Instead, the silent, infinite panel above mocks me in my doubt. From a place of pride and anger, I cry out to God much like David did: “Awake, Lord! Why do you sleep? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever. Why do you hide your face and forget our misery and oppression?” (Psalm 44:23-24). We wonder if God has abandoned us and all of His creation. We revel in the futile mutterings of another unanswered prayer. As we ask ourselves if the somber skies will remain silent forever, faith’s fire is often extinguished.

Whether we realize it or not, the effects are devastating.

When all hope and assurance are lost, wallowing in the darkness often leaves us swallowed. Faith propels us towards a brighter tomorrow. It allows us to go to bed each night knowing that even though the waters roar and the mountains quake with their surging, we have refuge and strength. When this hope taken from us, our steps lose their joy. An immense void opens up inside. It overwhelms us with a darkness more impenetrable than any other. As the flame of faith flickers, we often become stranded in the utter absence of light.

Am I saying that you should never doubt? That you should never question your faith? Absolutely not. I would even venture to say that periods of uncertainty can lead us into more unshakable certainty. Consider the story of Job. Job was an incredibly Godly man, but his faith was shaken tremendously when suffocating blackness impends upon him. He loses his wealth, his family, and his physical health. His response is relatively human: “What strength do I have, that I should still hope? What prospects, that I should be patient? Do I have the strength of stone? Is my flesh bronze? Do I have any power to help myself, now that success has been driven from me?” (Job 6:11-13). Job’s friends, despite their honorable intentions, end up doing more harm than good. They blame Job for things he has no control over. They tell him that he should have more faith. But at the end of this remarkable narrative, we discover that perhaps his faith was being strengthened to a degree far greater than that of his friends because God was living and active in the midst of his suffering. As Job 40:6 declares, “Then the Lord God spoke to Job out of the storm . . .” He is then brought to an intimate place of faith and repentance. “Then Job replied to the Lord: I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’ I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know” (Job 42:2-3). God used ineffable curses and turned them into abundant blessings of strong mettle and refreshed faith.

You do not always have to like your circumstances. You do not have to simply sit around and wait for the dawn. You can find beauty in the night.  Believe this, and let it penetrate the most opaque chambers of your life. As Paul so beautifully pens, “We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces endurance, endurance character, and character, hope. And this hope will not put us to shame because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us” (Romans 5:3-5).

May you always fight the good fight. May you let the grace of God manifest itself into glorious fruits, even in the dry desert land. And may you always keep your downtrodden eyes fixed upon the glimmering ray of hope shining in the night before the light yields to the darkness on the horizon.