Often a journey requires you to wait. Sometimes waiting on more information to allow you to know how to proceed. Or a tool or provision you require. Or we sit in some place of transfer, waiting on the plane, the boat, the rental car, the bus that will take us to the next place we want to go.
At this point in the Lenten journey, I often grow impatient. My high hopes for the journey show my tendency toward idealism and I must adjust. There is a stirring that wants to hurry along God’s activity, to press God toward revelation, instead of experiencing the seemingly slow and boring path of obedience and gentle unfolding.
Wait.
Waiting is a bit out of fashion. Even waiting for known periods of time is difficult. We now have clever programs that tell us how long before the next train arrives, or how long your hold time will be on a phone call or when our packages will come to our homes.
We see waiting as a necessary evil or waste of time. But what if the waiting is more significant than the arrival? What if the most meaningful work done in us is when we must wait?
Below is a Psalm for us in our waiting and suggestions on how we might hear God’s invitation.
Take a moment to come fully into the present. Sit comfortably and alert, close your eyes, and center yourself with breathing.
1. Hear the word. Read the passage a couple of times aloud to yourself. Listen for a word or phrase from the passage that stands out to you. Take some silence and repeat it softly to yourself.
2. Ask, “How is my life touched?” Read the Psalm again to discover how this passage touches your life today. Consider the possibilities or receive a sensory impression as you sit in silence ( I hear, I see, I sense.) Another option is to simply identify one word to sum up the feeling you get from the text.
3. Ask, “Is there an invitation?” Read again and listen for a possible invitation, for this day and event into the next few days. Ponder it during several minutes of silence.
4. Pray
-
I waited and waited and waited for GOD.
At last he looked; finally he listened.
He lifted me out of the ditch,
pulled me from deep mud.
He stood me up on a solid rock
to make sure I wouldn’t slip.
He taught me how to sing the latest God-song,
a praise-song to our God.
-
Nothing and no one
compares to you!
I start talking about you, telling what I know,
and quickly run out of words.
Neither numbers nor words
account for you.
6 Doing something for you, bringing something to you—
that’s not what you’re after.
Being religious, acting pious—
that’s not what you’re asking for.
You’ve opened my ears
so I can listen.
-
Now GOD, don’t hold out on me,
don’t hold back your passion.
Your love and truth
are all that keeps me together.
When troubles ganged up on me,
a mob of sins past counting,
I was so swamped by guilt
I couldn’t see my way clear.
More guilt in my heart than hair on my head,
so heavy the guilt that my heart gave out.
13 Soften up, GOD, and intervene;
hurry and get me some help.
-
But all who are hunting for you—
oh, let them sing and be happy.
Let those who know what you’re all about
tell the world you’re great and not quitting.
And me? I’m a mess. I’m nothing and have nothing:
make something of me.
You can do it; you’ve got what it takes—
but God, don’t put it off.