Psalm 130
Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord;
Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
to my cry for mercy.
If you, Lord, kept a record of sins,
Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness,
so that we can, with reverence, serve you.
I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
I wait for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Israel, put your hope in the Lord, for with the Lord is unfailing love and with him is full redemption. He himself will redeem Israel from all their sins.
As our Caravan enters the homestretch on its way to Jerusalem, Mt. Zion has grown on the horizon and the Holy City is closer than ever. But we are not there yet. We've left the wilderness behind and have begun to see more villages and towns-- more smiling faces. Our hearts are beginning to swell with anticipation. But we are not there yet. We begin to imagine what it will be like to walk through the crowded streets and markets at festival time. What it will be like to stand in the temple courtyards as our sacrifice is presented by the Priest before the Lord of all creation. What it will like to then dine in the candlelit homes of distant relatives over meat and wine... love and laughter. We can see it, smell it, taste it. But we are not there yet.
We are waiting. "I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits..." the Psalmist says.
Waiting is hard. There's no way around it. These days it feels like the goal posts keep being moved. Many of us hoped we'd be back to normal by Easter. Now it looks like we'll be living this way until at least the end of April (probably beyond). We all have plans and projects that have frozen in place. And we are waiting. We anticipate a time when this will all be over and we will be in each other's company once more. We can hear it and see it when we close our eyes. And smell it and taste it because, man, are we gonna have one big potluck! But we are not there yet.
We know we are one day closer but we don't know when we'll get where we're going. So we wait. These past few weeks, we've used this metaphor of a caravan making its way to Jerusalem. I like this metaphor because it's all about a kind of forward movement. This idea that even though we're not going anywhere, we're getting somewhere. Know what I mean? I think that's what it means to wait for the Lord. It's not staying frozen in place until he acts, but being faithful... making progress toward the destination.
It's the kind of waiting you do at a theme park. If you want to ride the new ride, you can't just pick a bench and wait until someone invites you to ride it. You have to get in line. Sometimes for a long stretch... inch by inch... minute by minute... making progress. You have to have patience in the monotony. You have to resist the urge to turn back when you walk through a door thinking you're there but you discover another room filled with turnstiles and switchbacks endless lines of people waiting. You have to calm your own nerves when you start thinking about the ride and start to wonder if you'll be able to handle all its ups and downs. This kind of waiting takes faith. Faith that the payoff is going to be worth the time spent waiting.
This is the sort of waiting we're called to in this moment. We may not be going anywhere but that doesn't mean we can't get somewhere. We can deepen our prayer life. We can search areas of scripture we've neglected for inspiration and truth. We can reach out in safe ways to our neighbors. We can garden, take up piano, journal, fix that thing that's been broken for over a year... We can spiritually prepare ourselves to reenter life with a deeper appreciation for the simple things we took for granted. We can patiently... inch by inch... minute by minute... make progress. And when we don't seem to be making any at all, we can find the faith to believe that God will make up the difference.
I once heard about a Native American rite of passage. In this tribe, before a boy could become a man, he had to go stand out in a field for an entire night alone.It was a test of courage and endurance. Imagine him. This frightened young boy being led out to the clearing surrounded by forest and left there. See him standing stoically as the sun sets and the whole world darkens around him. Look through his eyes as he scans the dark all night for danger... afraid of every moving shadow... every snap of a twig.... Is that a wolf? A bear? The enemy?
Now it is dawn and the sun is beginning to rise. You see at the edge of the clearing, a figure. First you think it's an animal. But then you get a little more light and you see that it's a person. A little more light and you can make out that the person has a bow and its drawn and pointing at you. Your heart stops... Just a little more light and you see the face of the man holding the bow. It's your Father. He's been there all night long ready to strike anything down that would do you harm.
We wait for the Lord... more than watchmen waiting for the morning... more than watchmen waiting for the morning...
I know this time is scary and it seems dark. But I also know that dawn is just around the corner. So let us wait for the Lord together... And I'll see you when we get there.
Lord, We are impatient and fearful. Give us courage as we faithfully wait upon you. Help us to continue to grow spiritually and as human beings in these weeks and months. Protect us from depression and anxiety as we wait. Amen.
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