The idea of waiting seems like such passive, finger tapping on the table, empty space. But the type of waiting modeled by folks like Joseph, Martin Luther King Jr., Simeon (the guy who waited to die until he sees Jesus at the temple) or Rosa Parks (pictured above) points to the difficult paradox that God’s people deliberately practice a peculiar way of active waiting.
The Hebrew word for “to wait” - Qavah - is defined as “a binding together”. (Similar to the latin root of the word “Religion” also defined as “binding together”). That root definition in the Hebrew provides some helpful perspective for me to be reminded that amidst all the waiting that apparantly is so essential in growing up with God perhaps there is a quiet sacred union taking place… an intimate binding between me and the Creator of the cosmos.
Amidst betrayal by family, enslavement, and unjust accusation and imprisonment Joseph waited 24 years for his dream to connect with Pharoah and make any sense.
The padre of our faith waited 25 years between the initial promise that he’d be the patriarch of a big family and Isaac’s eventual birth. Abraham shows just how difficult it is to not screw around and get yourself in trouble during long periods of waiting.
Stories like that are not rare throughout the scriptures. You could randomly flip through the pages and drop your finger aimlessly on any page and it is likely you'll find a story of waiting. It is simply the normative life of God's people.
Just as the Triune God is bound and mysteriously united in a three-in-one relationship the action of waiting extends a continual invitation to be bound and intimately connected to the loving and creative source of all things.
So... what does the posture of this waiting-life practically look like?
Eugene Peterson's interpretation of Isaiah 30:15 goes like this...
"Your salvation requires you to turn back to me and stop your silly efforts to save yourselves. Your strength will come from settling down in complete dependence on me…”
From the Dance of Life, Henri Nouwen interprets the same text,
"By waiting and calm you shall be saved. In quiet and trust is your strength."
Settling down in monastic-like silence is a nice pious idea and all but the reality is it's also terrifying. I've been camping before when things have become so still and quiet and I've never found that intensity of silence to offer me much comfort.
In that silence I'm faced with the terror of myself -- my angers, lusts, and resentments. The real hidden stuff that my 4G, high-speed, twittered up, life allows me to seldom confront, pray about, or expose to my friends. The hard reality that comes with settling down in silence is... contrary to my imagination I am not in control of my life, my world, my vocation.
It is comforting, however, to think of a "waiting with" as in God is waiting with me in my letting go and in my letting go I actively wait with God which sets in motion that quiet unnoticed under the surface transformative attachment or bond that is Qavah.
And when I willingly and compassionately wait with others who are struggling such as the elderly who are waiting to die, homeless people waiting on a place to stay, immigrants waiting for their documents to be processed, single people who long to be married, and even toddlers waiting on the potty as they learn to wear big boy underwear, according to the Hebrew - Qavah - there is a mysterious deepening of solidarity taking place between me and the other.
Maybe this "waiting with" is what infuses true community and creates long-term redemptive relationships. Maybe in calmly yet actively waiting together with all of creation we'll surprisingly discover a new bond with each other and God. Let's wait and see.
Good post. I feel like this helps remove some of the passivity of waiting and makes it more active.
Posted by: Colter | June 08, 2011 at 03:10 PM
Gracias, Colter.
Posted by: Ryan | June 11, 2011 at 08:57 PM
Hey Ryan! This is Tim Bordeaux from HC... or HU. Love your posts, this one is great! Great insight into waiting. I'm gonna have to steal some of this!
Posted by: Tim | June 21, 2011 at 06:07 PM
Steal away, TB. Thanks for the encouragement. Means a lot.
Posted by: Ryan | June 22, 2011 at 11:58 AM