When to Stop Waiting

A friend asked a great question of me this weekend.  She asked, how do we know when to stop waiting.  When should we stop being alone, by ourselves?  At what point do we say, well, this isn't working, and try something else?

Great question, and one I've wrestled with.  A dangerous one.

A year or two ago, I was so frustrated with trying to walk with God, in every way I could think to walk, that I was tempted to simply walk away.  The season lasted for nine months or so-  what kept drawing me back was the beauty of creation, namely fireflies and Paris Mountain.  I couldn't walk away from the goodness, the beauty, that God put in front of me.

But a question like this may have lead me there.  I have spent most of my life approaching God for something.  Usually, it wasn't for anything more than assurance, or direction.  I wanted to hear His voice, feel His presence.  I spent much time trying to experience the Spirit, in whatever way I thought I could at the moment.  Which is fair, and a good pursuit.   Often, scripture discusses the experience of God.  The book of Acts mentions 'times of refreshing' that will come 'from the presence of the Lord', in line with the 'blotting out of sins' and the return of Jesus as the threefold result of repentance and faith.  David wants to be a bird in the sanctuary, to build a nest and stay there.  Countlesss theologians, mystics, and everyday Christians have experienced the presence of God, some once or twice and others regularly.  'Pursuing the presence of God' is attested to, then, by scripture and the 'cloud of witnesses' flitting about.  And by my experience as well.  I have felt moments of overflowing joy, of deep deep love, some out of nowhere and some with cause.  I have felt a gnawing excitement, as though something desired to be expressed but could be contained with no words.  I've been shocked and moved and challenged and drawn by experience, and that is a good thing.

The danger comes when we seek the experience of God over God Himself.  Imagine a date, meticulously crafted, five course meal and candles and flowers and all the trappings.  And then imagine your date focusing exclusively on making sure the date runs smoothly.  Continually asking you how everything tastes, checking the oven, taking the temperature of the chicken, lighting more candles, moving the candles around, asking how you like the candles, taking pictures, taking notes on how to do it better next time-  obnoxious, right?  Because the date happens whether everything goes perfectly or not, regardless of the 'experience'.  And really, the point is not the feeling of romance, but the presence of love towards the other person, sometimes manifest simply by sitting together.  Perhaps even in silence.  How many of us have said, at one time or another, how much we diesire someone just to sit with, to read a book next too.  There is intimacy in that, in waiting with eachother, that does not rely on any 'accomplishment'.  Because it's not about achieving, but about being.  Or, more accurately, about being with.

So it is, I think, with God.  Are big production dates bad- no, of course not.  Are feelings wrong, or inferior, or of no importance- of course not.  But they are not the point.  The point in intentional time together is the being together, whether that looks like speaking, listening, mutual enjoyment of something else, or simply being silent.  God is good, and beautiful, desirable and experientially present.  But we do not need a 'new' experience of that to prove it to us again and again.  At some point, we must worship, be in relationship, in faith, in trust, in remembrance of who He is and (you guessed it) what He has done.  Waiting may be best termed a call to remembrance, or to meditation, to slow savoring of the beauty that we know.  Because we do know it. And an opening to whatever else the Lord may have.  Because sometimes He does have something new.

God did not reveal himself to me emotionally for the better part of a year (with little exceptions here and there) to teach me to pursue Him, not the experience.  I tried everything I could think of to kindle a flame, but each seemed to fail to achieve what I sought.  Now, when I wait on the Lord, I try to sit not in expectation of some new experience, but in faith of a present God, Emmanuel, waiting with me.  Expectation not of something new, or surprising, but of something that has always been there.  The loving presence of God.  Is that easy for me, no, not a chance.  But it's good for me. I still yearn for a new experience, as I think I always will.  And, with an infinite God, there will always be new.  But the old is no less valuable, no less beautiful, no less real, if the new is not present as I'd like it to be.  The truth of God remains, His spoken word continues to reverberate in His creation, and His beauty is not in jeopardy.  We seek, knowing we have already found Him, and so in peace.  We listen, knowing He has already spoken, and so in satisfaction.  We love, and we wait, and we sit with Him.  And that is enough.

That's not very practical, but opens up some conversations, I think.  I want push back and challenge on this one, dear reader.