I share two pieces on my podcast. You can also read them below, if you’d prefer. Major kudos to the readers.
What’s your waiting process?
You’ve gotta have one, right? Like when you go to the post office and there’s a line. Do you play Sudoku on your phone or check Instagram? And when your laundry is drying in a laundry mat do you read a book or text a friend?
Does anything about your waiting process connect intentionally with what you’ll do as soon as your wait is over?
I’m gonna guess that’s a No for most of us. There are a few of you really scheduled people who, before you’re head home with fresh smelling dry clothes, have mapped out your lunch menu which has helped you realize you’re gonna need to stop at your local grocer and pickup some ketchup.
You strange birds have a way of looking at the other side of your wait and planning for it. I bet that feels good, huh? I’m taking notes.
Waiting is as old as the Earth. There has always been a next thing, and time for anticipation, preparing for what’s coming on the other side. And waiting is a huge part of Advent.
I’ve spent a fair amount of time this week thinking and writing about the Advent wait. I actually plan to preach on it this Sabbath, pointing in part to how good it is for us to look at and learn from how others have waited through the centuries until that day when Jesus finally made his entrance into our world. Some people lost site of what was to come, the promise, the prophecy. They lost sight of who they were in relation to who God is. I think David would have lived a different life had he always been conscious of a coming Messiah.
Which leads me to wonder how my life can shift for the better by spending this season with a renewed sense of awe as I reflect on the wait and on the fulfillment.
You’ve been waiting for me to speak again. That was awkward. What did you do with that time? Unload the dryer? Brush your teeth? Did you return only to find that I was talking again, forcing you to click that 15 second rewind button twice?
Or maybe you sat in the silence, trusting that I wouldn’t end so abruptly.
We learn a lot about ourselves while we wait. Silence makes it harder. We fidget. We fill the air with something, anything. Or we imagine a better other side, we anticipate its coming, we grab a blanket so that when the silence is broken, we’re warm and cozy and a lot more attentive.
I’m only three days into this Advent journey. I’ve got a lot more to learn and I’m grateful.
Many years ago I began writing what I thought would definitely become a book. I titled it My Inanition. Inanition means a state of being empty. That’s all a long story for another day. I simply share that with you so that you understand the title of the piece I’m about to share which focuses on a particular time in my life when waiting was a tall order. I wrote this piece on June 30, 2007 and titled it “Inanition continues”.
Read the original post here.