the waiting.

It’s coming up on five months now, which you’d think is plenty of time for news like ours to sink in.  But sometimes I still lay in bed and feel shock wash over my entire body, feel like I’m drowning in the ocean of what’s happened.

How is this possible? How did our entire long-worked-for, much-prayed-for, short-lived life in South Asia just end, in the blink of an eye?  And how did it just end over my health?

On my best days, I’m incredulous.  On my worst, I want to sink into despair and shame.  It was a nightmare of mine, you know.

I remember, newly married, sitting down to dinner with a couple who had to leave Pakistan, later learning that the cause of their leaving was the wife’s depression.  I could tell, years later, they were still reeling from the shock of it.  The pain was raw in their eyes, especially in hers.

Across that table, I thought, If we ever have to leave the mission field over my health, I’ll die.

And now, ironically enough, I’m living that nightmare, and all I can tell you from the middle of it is: God’s grace is enough for the nightmare.  Some days I have wanted to die, but He has let me live.  That’s a gift.  He’s let me be loved and hugged and He’s let me learn that this whole story is bigger than me.  More gifts.  I’m here in this world for His glory, and somehow, right now, He wants to show His glory through one small family having to leave their dream and . . . waiting.

This morning the four of us headed downtown for breakfast in our favorite coffee shop, and saw a friend from college.  She asked how we were doing “in the transition.”  We shared and she shared, and then she said, “I know this is weird, but it’s good to see you guys in transition.  I don’t think the Church always knows what to do when people are in transition, how to love them and also to let them struggle through it and question God.  It’s good to see your honesty and to see that you’re holding onto faith.”

She’s so right: waiting makes people uncomfortable.  I don’t know how many times in the last several months, friends have said, “Just wait and see; God had you guys leave South Asia because He has a way bigger ministry for you.  Some day you’ll look back on this and understand.”

I know they speak from their love for us–and I think also out of their faith in God, but what I want to ask is: But what if God doesn’t have a bigger ministry for us?  What if it’s a smaller ministry, a struggling, thankless ministry–or a ministry not doing exactly the things we’re passionate about?  Or what if David goes back to work at Starbucks?  What if we never understand why God let this happen?

Is He obligated to give us something better than what He took away?

Is He obligated to explain Himself to us?

Will we keep trusting only if it all ends up making sense, if we can wrap all the disappointment and sleepless nights up in a nice story and share it as a testimony one day?

And how often do I say the same thing?  How often do I listen to a story of waiting and transition from a friend and want to problem-solve for them, want to make it hurt less and end quicker?

Do I ever just encourage them to talk to Jesus about their disappointment and anger?  Do I point them to the brutal honesty of the Psalms?  Do I pray for God to be enough for them today, or do I just pray for Him to end the struggle?

I’ve mentioned this before, but I’m beginning more and more to love the space in Scripture given to people who complain against God.  David.  Job.  Jeremiah.

On October 2, I started my journal entry with these words:

God has wronged me. – Job 19.6

He tears me down on every side till I am gone;
He uproots my hope like a tree. – Job 19.10

Job said it, not me.  But it certainly describes how I feel some days.  And God is okay with that.  He invites it.

There’s freedom in honesty before God.  There’s freedom in not trying to imagine the happy ending, in not saying, “Everything will work out.”  Everything might not work out.  My heart could break into a thousand pieces.  Again.  There’s freedom in saying, “God, I don’t know what You’re doing here and I hate waiting and I’m scared to enjoy this house because every day the question dogs me: When will we have to leave it?”

I know that many of you are waiting too.  It seems like far more people than not, from all the conversations we’ve had.  Which makes me think, When we’re done waiting for a new job, won’t we start waiting for something else?  A difficult relationship to mend?  A child to adopt?  A close friend to come to faith in Jesus?  A less-exhausting year as parents?  A less-exhausting year at work?  A dry season in ministry to fill up with joy?

Listening to your stories of waiting, I’m sobered by just how much waiting there is in life, but I’m also filled with hope.  I’m determined to keep being honest about waiting.  It’s hard, friends.  Some nights David and I just turn on the TV and zone out so we don’t have to keep thinking about it.  Sometimes we take the stress out on our kids and yell at them for no reason.  Some days I’m eaten up with worry because my husband left a ministry he loved and may never get to experience that joy again.

Yes, it’s hard.  I think God wants us to be honest with one another and with Him about the hard-ness.  I think He wants us not to sugarcoat the ache in our hearts or to put on our brave face each Sunday at church or to shield non-Christians from the truth of our disappointment with Him.

But in the waiting, I think He also wants us to fiercely seek the joy of knowing that He’s enough today.

Our God is so generous.  He doesn’t work in the ways we expect (e.g. giving us a job right now, giving us _____ right now), but He works in the ways we least expect (e.g. placing a guard on my gossip-tending tongue, delighting in a friend who’s making different decisions than me instead of judging her in my heart, revealing an area of sin against my husband and bringing repentance, giving me an honest conversation with a neighbor who’s relieved to learn that I’m a Christian and don’t have it all together).  A job is a piece of cake.  These things are the real victories, aren’t they?

I don’t want everything in life to go my way so that I won’t fall apart and get anxious and frustrated.

I want to have repentance and peace and joy when nothing is going my way, and I want to give thanks to God for being big enough to change this stubborn, selfish heart.

So while we’re waiting, let’s keep seeking joy together, shall we?  Let’s look hard for the tiny, everyday victories–the ones God wants to shower all over us, and let’s celebrate these victories with all our hearts.  Let’s cheer each other on and together ask God for more freedom in the waiting.

This most generous God who gives seed to the farmer that becomes bread for your meals is more extravagant  with you.  He gives you something you can then give away, which grows into full-formed lives, robust in God, wealthy in every way, so that you can be generous in every way, producing with us great praise to God.
– II Corinathians 9.10-11, The Message