Waiting Still...

Reflections on what we all have to do

I haven’t written a blog in a couple of months, and some of you have noticed. I’m glad, every writer hopes someone reads what they write. When I began two years ago it was as much for me as anyone else. I needed to process the aftermath of Covid’s destruction, work out what had happened to me, figure out how to adjust to a life that was radically different than I had expected, probe the depths of God’s involvement in it all. But there was more – as a pastor I knew that what I have gone through is experienced by all of us to some degree or another, and my hope was that my journey, my attempt to make sense of it all, might help others in their struggles. And so, with that I turn to my reflections in this writing, captured in these words from Psalm 130:5-6 in The Message, “I pray to God – my life a prayer – and wait for what He’ll say and do. My life’s on the line before God, My Lord, waiting and watching till morning, waiting and watching till morning.”

Waiting – we all do it. Waiting for the sunrise, for the anticipated visit with a friend, for the end of the work day, for our beloved’s embrace, for a good night’s sleep. There can be excitement in waiting, the relief of being accepted into the university of our dreams, the joy of finding our mate for a lifetime, the satisfaction of snaring that job we have been praying for. But we can also wait with concern for our doctor’s appointment, wait with dread for the results of our test, wait with a deep sigh, “O Lord, what’s next?” At times, like Psalm 130, our life is on the line. When that happens, Psalm 13 barges into the picture – “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long?”

Waiting. It seems like I have been doing a lot of that these past few years. When I got out of the hospital in 2021 with covid damaged kidneys, I was told it would get better, that my kidneys would kick back in. They didn’t. Physical therapy got me back on my feet. Between dialysis and what remaining kidney function I have (about 13%) I can keep toxins somewhat in check. My hunger has never returned but I eat enough to maintain my high school weight. No machine or careful diet can make up for what my kidneys were meant to do, and my entire body suffers for it. Early on in this journey I was told to get a kidney transplant – I even had some naïve medical advisors tell me that I would be at the top of the list, receiving a kidney in no time. It doesn’t work that way. Right now there are some ninety to a hundred thousand people waiting for a kidney. And it can be a long wait. For many, including me, a wait time of four to five years after starting dialysis before getting a kidney is a norm. I have been waiting more than four years now.

Twice a year I go through a battery of tests in the transplant center to make sure I am still healthy enough to survive a transplant. The tests all turned out fine this past month, and my coordinator told me that my name had actually begun to appear on the list for a kidney. I wasn’t at the top, and I probably won’t be for many more months, but it was just an indication that the time for a transplant may be getting closer.

So we wait. All of us. As a pastor I have waited with a lot of people during crisis times in their lives. I sat for hours in an emergency room with panicked family members, stood in prayer as the shadow of death closed the eyes of a loved one, sat quietly listening to the heartbreaking story of a shattered marriage. And so often I heard those words, “How long is this going to last!” “Where is God, why won’t He do something!” How long, O Lord, will you forget me forever?

I am grateful for passages like Psalm 13 and Psalm 130, they are two of what are known as the Psalms of Lament. We can join those ancients as they pray, notice how they cry out to God, no holds barred. We can join them, praying our sorrow and suffering, crying out when the wait seems too long, when grief and sorrow are overwhelming. In the process of praying so honestly, so authentically, the Spirit of God enables us to do what is so hard for any of us to do – to wait.

I am grateful for the Psalms, but I am also grateful that the Bible is so full of waiting. Abraham and Sarah waiting a quarter of a century for God to keep His promise. Moses up on the mountain for forty days, the thunder of God’s presence rattling his heart. The rebellious children of Israel in the wilderness, a reminder that we often bring the misery of waiting on ourselves. And, of course, the centuries of yearning for a Savior to come, for God to become flesh, for heaven to come down and glory fill our souls.

Waiting. There are those who say there is value in waiting, and I think that is often the case. We have time to pray – I mean, real time, stretched out, not for minutes but months. As we pray, our eyes pouring over the pages of Scripture, we seek meaning, direction, clarity, purpose. Psalm 130 begins, “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy.”

And we wait. Psalm 130 presents an interesting image. The Psalmist puts his hope in God’s word, and then confesses, “My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning” – what is that about? In ancient times a watchman would stand guard over a city, on the lookout for any danger that may come. He would watch so others could sleep, waiting for the morning – it is good to know someone is on the lookout! Eugene Peterson, in his book A Long Obedience in the Same Direction, talks about the years he worked as a night watchman. He confesses that, during that time, he never did anything real significant, never constructed anything, never made anything happen. He waited, he watched, and he hoped. But he did do more. From 10:00 pm to 6:00 am he would sit, read, doze, study, make his rounds. He was also the elevator operator in that tall New York City building, and he got to talk with all sorts of people who would stop in all hours of the night. He heard strange stories, like the failed millionaire who said a communist plot brought his demise, or the South American adventurer who was too old to tramp around remote jungles, or two streetwalkers who, on slow nights, would sit and talk about God and the worth of their souls. As Peterson waited, he hoped, listened with compassion, connected with others, and looked for the dawn to come.

“Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice. Let your ears be attentive to my cry for mercy… My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning.” While we wait what do we do? I have thought about that a lot with all the waiting I have done. Obviously with the Psalmist we pray. We try to set aside the insistent question of “why is this happening” even though the question keeps barging back in again. What more do we do? Here are some of the things on my list:

We ask others to wait with us, fellow Christ followers, not because they have answers for us or aren’t struggling with waiting themselves – no, we meet with others because we must not wait alone.

We immerse ourselves in Scripture, pay attention to others who have waited, some a lot longer than we have, with more grief, more darkness – and yet, when darkness turned to dawn the wait was finally over. Enter into Scripture – put yourself in the place of Paul with whatever thorn is in your flesh, asking God to remove it, but finding grace, God’s strength in your weakness. In all of this we permit ourselves to feel weary, to wonder if it is all worth the wait, but we keep on going.

We ask God, “What now? What is it you want of me?” When life has changed and it seems like all we are is a watchman waiting for the darkness to lift and dawn to come, there must be something we do. In a changed season of life where waiting is a way of life, we seek out that something, whatever God has for us, whatever we can give ourselves to.

And in it all we cling to Jesus, to His love, His promises, His putting up with the endlessness of questions that come while we wait. We seek peace, for ourselves, yes, but for others who are waiting as well.

And we wait… still…

I hope this writing was worth the wait!