Silently waiting

As the year advances and Paul and I are still waiting (endlessly, it seems) to know for sure where we'll be in the fall and what this next year will look like, it's been hard for me not to be anxious or impatient. So I found in this verse both encouragement and peace:

"Truly my soul silently waits for God;
From Him comes my salvation.
He only is my rock and my salvation;
He is my defense;
I shall not be greatly moved." - Psalm 62:1-2

That first line in particular stands out to me, and I think the word "silently" is especially important. What it implies is that in our waiting (for God's direction and timing), we ought to stop all the complains and questions that rise up in our minds, and to put an end to the anxiety and impatience that dwells in our hearts. Then, when we've cleared all that away, there is space and energy left to genuinely trust God with the peace and calm of a little child.

Honestly, it's rather liberating to trust in this way. The little moments I manage to actually trust, instead of just stuffing the worries deeper inside or pretending that everything will be work out exactly the way I want it, are really awesome, because it lets me out of the confinements of my own fears and uncertainties into the full breadth and depth of God's faithfulness and sovereignty. Instead of hearing only my own anxiety or impatience going around in my head over and over again, my heart in its quietness can hear the truth and love God speaks to me. He is my rock! When all else is unknown and uncertain, He is who He is, unchanging and eternal.

Waiting in unknowing inaction

Sometimes beauty and peace come from waiting, from hidden times of refining and maturing, from taking the long road through desolate places - from passing through the darkness and the pain instead of skirting around it. On the other side, one finds that there has grown within him a new depth and strength of character, a patience and endurance he never had before, and with that endurance new reserves of hope and faith.

We never want to wait. The months of engagement before a wedding, though full of joy and excitement, can be almost tortuous at times because of the heights of anticipation, the constant pushing forward as though by sheer will power the days can be made to go past more quickly. When we have had an interview for a job or a school or a scholarship, the time spent waiting to know what the decision will be is charged with impatience and anxiety - as we say, we can't wait to hear back. Whether we want something or fear something, the time before we obtain our desire or before the dreaded moment arrives seems unendurable. Even if it ends with bad news, we want it to be over, so we don't have to wait any longer, so we don't have to wrestle with worries and dreams, hopes and fears: so we can know what is to be, and act accordingly.

Waiting feels like inaction. Passivity, helplessness, lack of control, inefficiency - all these words describe how it feels to be forced to sit back and wait. There is no more preparation to be done, no more actions to take; all that is left is to wait. And so we wait fitfully and uncomfortably, even angrily, chafing at the bit. But maybe waiting can be a blessing and a gift, despite its unwelcome appearance. Because waiting demands inaction, a cessation of all our frantic planning and activity, it offers us a chance to rest. Because it holds us captive in a state of unknowing, it gives us an opportunity to learn to trust the God who does know what the future holds. We can choose to wear ourselves down with worry, or we can choose to wait with patience, to endure the pain of not knowing and not being able to do anything about it, and in so waiting to deepen our trust and strengthen our character and our faith.

An armor of peace around my heart

Either I am rapidly turning into a worrier or I have always been one and am now just starting to realize it! Whichever alternative it is, it is rather annoying...

I feel that, in some sense, worry is antithetical to trust and faith, and one of the central facets of being a Christian is having trust and faith in God. For instance, if I am trusting God with my feelings of self-worth and identity, then I shouldn't be worrying about what the people around me think about what I'm wearing, or what the other church-goers will think about me having to raise my hand to ask for a Bible when I forget mine. Those things truly will not affect who I believe myself to be if I am defining myself in faith based on what God has declared to be true about me! So the worry and the trust aren't exactly able to coexist, at least not without a struggle.

On the positive side, if we are willing to take a step towards faith and away from worry, God lets us know how and accompanies it with a pretty awesome promise:

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." - Phil. 4:6-7 

That's probably a familiar verse to most of you, and it is to me as well, but let's not allow its familiarity to diminish its power and impact in our lives! I see here a wonderful promise: that if we take action against against our worry by taking our requests and anxieties to God with prayer and thanksgiving, we can be assured that our hearts and our minds will be defended and protected by God's own peace, in Jesus. And from what will they be defended, one might ask? Primarily they will be guarded from anxiety itself, I believe - but I also think that God's peace will work to defend us against many of the emotions and sins that accompany worry: fear of rejection, for example, or the need for the approval of others, or an inability to speak the truth boldly. These are different for each person, but the common thread is that they, entering our hearts on worry's coattails, attack our faith in God and consequently threaten our actions of obedience to God.

So let us go forth into the stress and anxiety that the holiday season can engender (or let's face it, if you're anything like me, that any season of life can engender) full of prayer and thanksgiving, that we may build in Christ an armor of peace around our hearts and our minds!