On Waiting

In seeking to follow the Lord, a friend* told me to stop stepping back to analyze the signs and instead to step in, deeper, and listen to what the Lord was saying, now.  Another** asked how to know when to stop waiting.  This is a prayer that merges the two thoughts, written on a walk today.  Bit of a ramble, but so was the walk, though neither as much as you'd think.
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Lord,

I am moved.  I'm not sure why. I feel attentive.  I feel more aware, awake, more curious.
I desire certainty, of course, and of course there is none.  And I worship you.

I wait for you.  But for how long?
Do I wait for something?  Do I simply wait
upon you, breathe in you, listening for your all-speaking silence?

Oh Love that will not let me go,
I cling to your fingers.
Point, but only if it will not loosen Your grasp on me.
Speak to me, Lover of my soul.
Father of my desires,
make them burn as the pyre of all fleshly thoughts.
Do I yearn rightly?
Let me burn brightly,
My yearning true and hot,
that I would know myself better,
that I may better give myself to thee.

The glimpses of beautiful things
lead me to the bend
and to an intersection, a division, a fork,
leave me breathless, hopeful, and wonderfully unanswered, un-assured and secure.
I breathe deeply, for any smell, and trace, any taste;
I look deeply.
A decision to be savored.
A question worth waiting upon, instead of an answer worth waiting for.
Breathing in, listening as its crevasses respond to my searching, listening ears.

How wide, deep and long; the space to be
filled, the room to be furnished
slowly, in pieces, as each is found abandoned and broken,
salvaged and repaired,
pieces of one into the other
to make one whole and strong,
scarred, sacred, weathered and resigned to beauty;
a beauty that worships Creator and Redeemer and Sustainer,
A guaranteed beauty, of hands and care and love,
of a never resigning Carpenter, a never sleeping Caretaker-
One who walks in the garden.

I am moved by you, Lord of heaven
and earth.
I am moved by your voice, by your presence, your creations.
I worship You.

The Healer unifies, the Healer repairs;
Was not My Spirit in this all?
I wait on you, I wait on You.
We wait, give weight, lean and dance.
You wait on me, and take my weight, all weight,
all wait, since in the beginning of time You knew,
and waiting, breath baited, to draw me in
and dance.  To wait, to breathe, to rest and look, to run.
Glorious indecision: the tension that pulls
into bend and swing, sling, slung into motion.
Lord, you lead, and I wait, and pull back,
and lean,
to be brought forward into greater things.

And I will be moved,
And I do not know;
Yet I am acquainted with your ways,
and am in relationship with the tension,
and I worship You.

Decision sprouts, and clarity grows
from nothing, to nearly nothing, to slightly less than something,
sharp moments of distinction-
death to life,
leaf or blade,
climb or crawl, or reach, stretch,
amidst waitings and hopings and unsureties.
I pray, Lord, I wait, as watchmen for the morning.

What life do you bring me,
as light from the dawn reaches through tree and through window
to wake me?
I am awake, aware, attentive.  I am waiting.
I am moved, moving, resting and walking to the Battery.
Order my steps.
Lead me in the way everlasting,
the wait everlasting;
the worshipful tension
of waiting upon you
forever.

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*Ben Thompson
**Lizzy Willingham