Reason #124

“Don't you know anything? Haven't you been listening? God doesn't come and go. God lasts. He's Creator of all you can see or imagine. He doesn't get tired out, doesn't pause to catch his breath. And he knows everything, inside and out. He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts. For even young people tire and drop out, young folk in their prime stumble and fall. But those who wait upon God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles. They run and don't get tired, they walk and don't lag behind.” – Isaiah 40:28-31 (The Message)

I broke my arm when I was 5 years old. A tragic tumbling accident fractured my little bone. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that tragic. It was probably more of a weird landing than anything. But you better believe that when my dad showed up to take me to the hospital, crocodile tears fell from my eyes as I dramatically explained the excruciating pain running through my arm. We headed to the hospital for x-rays to see what damage had been done. I remember laying my arm on the cold table as they snapped a picture of my bones. The doctor read the x-ray, diagnosed it as a sprain, and sent me home with a sling and a set of arm exercises. He told us that I needed to do the exercises to aid the healing of the sprain, and that the more I moved my arm the sooner it would feel better. Well, it just so happened that we were leaving for vacation, so off we went with an achy arm and a little blue sling. While on vacation, my mom highly encouraged me to keep moving my arm as much as I could. I remember telling her it hurt, but she reminded me that it wasn’t going to get better if I just held it still. Doctor’s orders. So we spent a few days bouncing around theme parks only to get home and find a message on the answering machine explaining that the x-ray had been misread and my arm was, in fact, broken. So back to the hospital we went for a cast. And we headed home with a plaster-covered appendage and 6 weeks of waiting. A fragile little bone, too weak to be used in its current state, had to wait. And in that cast, covered with Sharpie well wishes, the bone began to fuse. A weak arm slowly regaining its strength as it waited encased in a protective shell. We knew the end result would be good, we just had to keep still and wait a bit.

And as I dried my hair this morning, I kept thinking about the process of waiting. I hate waiting. I am so impatient. Really, I hate waiting in line, I hate waiting for the holidays, I hate waiting to receive a package in the mail, I hate waiting in the doctor’s office, I hate waiting for my nail polish to dry… I am not a good “waiter.” But the Lord has been teaching me to wait. Making me wait. And as I thought about the words of Isaiah 40, I came to realize that maybe the reason I hate waiting so much is because I’m in the wrong waiting room. I’m not waiting upon the Lord. But how does one wait upon the Lord? Upon-into complete or approximate contact with (dictionary.com). “Those who wait [in complete contact with] God will get fresh strength.” But I stand, impatiently tapping my toe and looking at my watch. So, it seems as if my time in the waiting room is being drawn out longer than I’d like. But maybe if I waited upon the Lord, got into complete contact with Him, quit tapping my toe, and took off my watch, I wouldn’t be so irritated. And I thought about my little arm that sat in a cast and waited to be healed, to regain its strength. I was only 5 at the time, so a cast wasn’t as much of a bother as it would have been today, but I remember that we had to treat my arm special. I had to be careful with it as I waited. I watched it closely, making sure that it didn’t get bumped. I didn’t want to interrupt what was happening during the waiting period. I remember keeping my arm raised when I took a bath so that it didn’t get wet. I remember sticking pencils down my cast to gently scratch the covered skin for relief. I remember being cautious with the things I did to make sure that my arm was safe. My waiting caused me to be careful, mindful. If I wouldn’t have been patient, pulled that cast off and gone about life as normal, my arm would have never regained its strength and been fully functioning. And when that cast came off, I remember looking at my pink arm that I could now use again. Thankful that in the waiting, my strength was regained because my body had been given the time to do what it needed to do, fuse a little bone back together. I was now ready to return to tumbling, but ready with a cautious mind set.

So the Lord must wait for you to come to him so he can show you his love and compassion. For the Lord is a faithful God. Blessed are those who wait for his help. (Isaiah 30:18) As I’ve been trying to be patient in waiting, I realize that broken bones are not the only thing putting me in the waiting room. It’s me. My selfishness. My impatience. I toe-tap myself right into waiting because I don’t wait upon the Lord. But the Lord, He is faithfully waiting on me. Waiting on me to wait upon Him. Waiting on me to let go of it. To admit I can’t do it. To turn to Him. To bring it to Him. To give Him my weakness and let Him strengthen it. And the Lord is so good at waiting. He doesn’t grow tired of waiting on me. So I’m trying. And maybe, just like my 5 year-old arm, the waiting is exactly what needs to take place. What’s best for me. A wait that, although is a little irritating and inconvenient, is keeping me safe. A wait that causes me to be careful, mindful, cautious. And as I wait upon the Lord, He strengthens me. Prepares me for what’s to come after the waiting. And I know that when the waiting is over the end result will be good, so I just have to “be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act.” (Psalm 37:7)

#124 – Because He strengthens me in the waiting.

“Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in him.” – Psalm 62:5