How do we wait with hope? December and January Blog theme: Waiting.

The blog theme for December and January month is…wait for ittttt…(nod to Shawn and Gus from Psych)…waiting. The featured books are Waiting Is Not Easy!, What’s Coming for Christmas? and Winter Dance.

Waiting can be painful, boring, and hard. Like most people (and definitely like Elephant in Waiting Is Not Easy! ), I don’t like waiting. And yet, unfortunately, it’s part of life. Long ago, Abraham and Sarah waited 25 years for the fulfillment of God’s promise that they would have a son. The nation of Israel waited 2000 years–with many prophecies in between–for their redeemer, Jesus. Waiting is inevitable in a broken world, and it’s also frequently part of God’s plan (2 Peter 3:9).

I’m one of those people who tends to see trees rather than forest, who can buckle to the seeming reality of the present rather than remembering that this moment does not necessarily tell the truth about the future. So my question is, how do I wait with hope?

In Romans 8:22-25, Paul writes, 

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

More often than not, I find myself in the groaning. This past month or two I have been more aware of my own impatience in the face of slow change within myself and those around me–and then a quick sinking into hopelessness when answers and change aren’t immediate. I can easily get discouraged as uncertainty persists, and prayers for clarity or provision don’t seem to be answered. 

This uncertainty can trigger crippling anxiety. At the height of my anxiety, in the midst of thought spirals so tight that it feels like life has stopped, frozen into the unending present of nothingness, the following verse–one of my favorites in all of Scripture–has comforted me. 

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. (Rom. 8:26).

The Spirit knows God’s heart, and my heart, and he acts as the interpreter between both. I can be sure that God will act in a way that is deeply knowing of who I am and also in my best interest; He can see beyond the matted thoughts and the narrow dreams I have for myself.

I can be sure that God will act in a way that is deeply knowing of who I am and also in my best interest.

And so I find hope in this:

• With the Spirit in me and by His power, I can experience life and peace amidst struggle and death.
  • “The mind governed by the flesh is death, but the mind governed by the Spirit is life and peace.” (v. 6).
  • “But if Christ is in you, then even though your body is subject to death because of sin, the Spirit gives life because of righteousness.” (v. 10)
• The Spirit intercedes for me. (v. 27)
• The Spirit intercede for me according to God’s will. (v. 27)
• God’s will is that I become more like Christ, and He will use any and all situations in my life to accomplish this goal. (vv. 28-29)
• No situations–including great hardship, or long waiting–can separate me from God’s love. (vv. 38-39)
• Full redemption is coming–for the groaning earth, and for the bodies, minds, and souls of those who trust in Jesus. (vv. 20-21)
• The gift of the Spirit assures me that more is coming–there will be a fulfillment to my hope. (v. 11, etc.)

Like Elephant, I’m impatient. Perhaps it’s because I can’t fathom or anticipate what’s on the other side of the waiting, just as Elephant didn’t see the meaning in his waiting till he glimpsed Piggy’s surprise–a huge expanse of star-studded sky. Because I’m too caught up in what I can see, feel, or experience in this present moment, I’m blind to the good that God is working. 

So how do I wait, patiently? How do I wait with hope? 

Like the fox in Winter Dance, I know the answer to the discomfort of waiting is not to borrow deep into a muddy river bed, curl up and hide in a log, or fly away to a warmer clime. Waiting with hope means becoming more attuned to what is happening in the present–not less. Instead of changing himself, speeding up time, or escaping his situation, the fox embraces his uniqueness, finds a friend, and begins dancing–right where he is. 

In What’s Coming for Christmas? everyone could sense that “something was coming,” and yet no one had eyes to see the slow changes taking place, the quiet preparations. 

Hope that is seen is no hope at all. So in one sense, hope is not about seeing, or certainty, but about trust. On the other hand, hope is about seeing–choosing to see the good. Perhaps waiting with hope has to do with one’s gaze–what we choose to look at, to look for. Are we celebrating the small victories? Are we looking for the good, instead of the negative?

Perhaps waiting with hope has to do with one’s gaze–what we choose to look at, to look for.

Sometimes my focus is in the wrong place, while all around, almost-imperceptible changes are taking place.

Perhaps my gentle Shepherd is calling me–like the fox–to embrace the here, the now, to dance with Him, the Creator of the Universe, in the midst of winter. To live connected to His Spirit, to His love from which I can never be separated. Perhaps he is calling me to train my eyes to see the blessings around me, to notice the newly-laid hay, or the “star above the horses’ stall” (Winter Dance). Perhaps He is beckoning me to trust Him, like Elephant had to trust Piggy, that the waiting will be worth it. Though I can’t see the starry sky–though darkness may gather with no sign of breaking–His light is sure to penetrate at the right time. Redemption is coming. 

Perhaps my gentle Shepherd is calling me–like the fox–to embrace the here, the now, to dance with Him, the Creator of the Universe, in the midst of winter.

I hope you’ll be encouraged by this month’s stories about waiting. Perhaps they will help us to look into the snowy barnyard for the star set over the horses’ stall, dance in the snow, or wait with hope for the surprise of a starry sky.

Feel free to share in the comments–how are you trusting God in waiting periods? How are you training your eyes to see Him at work, or how do you strive to see the positive things happening around you?