Sunday, July 6, 2014

The Waiting Is the Hardest Part

The red lights in front of me would not budge, so I stepped on the brakes firmly. All I could do was pray and trust. My Hyundai screeched and skidded and finally came to a stop, inches from the car in front of me. My brakes had done their job. But the moment of relief was short-lived, and I felt the impact of the car behind me, and then seconds later another jolt, as a third car ran into us both. With the last crash, my car spun, and I found myself sideways on the highway, staring up at an approaching semi.

Thankfully, it was only the machines who lost on this day. Every person involved in the accident walked away. For the rest of last Thursday and in the days since, I've been thinking a lot about timing. What if that 18-wheeler had been just a fraction of a second ahead of schedule? What if I had left the house just five minutes later or five minutes earlier? What if I had stopped for gas before driving to work, or what if had decided to work from home that morning? And then I began to wonder about all the ways God adjusts my life's timing—ways that save me from harm that I'm not even aware of.

And it's not just the accident that's got me thinking about God's timing. Every since last October when we found out we would be having our first child, Laurin and I have been fiercely awaiting July 1. That was the day, according to our doctors, that Jonah was due to be born. And while we've known all along that not every baby is born on his due date, July 1 has been our focus. As I write this post, Jonah is 5 days late. (I hate being late to things, so he must get his tardiness from his mother.)

God is good, so even though I don't know why my Thursday morning ended in a crunched car or why Jonah is "late," I'm trusting in His good purposes. As God is teaching me patience (admittedly my least favorite flavor among the fruit of the Spirit), I am seeing just how rushed and hurried I normally am. 

These past few days, Laurin and I have been able to slow down a bit. Since we were expecting to be adjusting to life with a new baby this weekend, we've got little on our to-do lists. There's not much to do but enjoy this calm before the storm. We spent time with family, celebrated the Fourth, even took time for a picnic at the place where we got married last year. It's been a nice change of pace, but I think this is how God expects us to live all the time. Since He is sovereign and has timed everything for our good, we are supposed to rest in His shalom, His perfect, immeasurable peace. As James says, "You do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes . . . You ought to say, 'If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that'" (James 4:14-15 NIV).

This talk of mist is a bit deceiving. On the surface, mist is unimportant and inconsequential. It would be an insult to tell another person that his life was nothing more than a vapor. But when compared to God's plans, our lives are nothing more than a mist. God is the One writing the story we're all living in—and James reminds us of that. But there's another side to this mist talk. Like mists that breathe up off of a lake in summertime, we ought to spend our time living within the pace of life that God has set before us. He has not asked us to live in such a hurried manner. We can only move as quickly as the breeze will take us. 

So I don't think Jonah is "late" after all. He's just living in sync with his Creator's timing. And it is me who needs to adjust. 


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