When the Wait Is Long

Two weeks ago, I resigned from my job of fourteen years. It was a shock to all but the handful of people who have been privy to my dream of a smaller life, a more flexible life, a less busy life a not-8-to-5-Monday-through-Friday life. It’s a dream I’ve harbored for over a decade. Deep down, I never doubted that the time would come when some other door would open, inviting me to step into a different adventure. Through two pregnancies, two moves, and the strange climate created by the global pandemic, I occasionally probed the Holy Spirit, especially in times of stress or unrest. Is it time yet? When, Lord?

The answer was always, Not yet. You’ll know when it’s time.

Don’t misunderstand me–I have loved my work. I have loved the people I’ve worked with. Leaving isn’t easy for countless reasons. It does feel like a loss and a sacrifice.

The first move toward such change was simply a conversation with my then-brand-new husband as he applied to graduate school out of state with my full encouragement. After he graduated and had a job firmly in hand, it would be my turn to do something new. I was never perfectly clear what. I just knew there would be a time, an opportunity–and a feeling of peace that accompanied it.

This wasn’t my first experience with waiting a long time for something, but it might be the longest. I waited a long time to meet my husband. I waited a long time to become a mom. In all these seasons of waiting, I haven’t wasted my days. I’ve invested in good work, in relationships, in my own growth.

When the wait is long (read: years), it can feel like we’re living in slow motion or even at a standstill. When the wait is long, it can feel like we’re just killing time. When the wait is long, it can feel like nothing is happening. We just want to get going. On to the next thing, already!

Waiting isn’t all bad. In fact, it’s probably not bad at all. Sometimes it feels like a slog, yes. It can feel like December 26 when you’re a kid and the next visit from Santa is 364 days away. But after four-plus decades of living, I’ve learned that in the waiting is where we grow. In the waiting is where we become who we were meant to be. In the waiting is where God prepares us for the thing we are waiting for. These are all good things that happen to us in the waiting.

When the wait is long and I’m tired of it, I think of all the people in Scripture who waited a long time for God’s will and promises to come to fruition. Noah waited for the rain to stop and the waters to recede. Abraham waited for the unlikely birth of a son. The Israelites waited (forty years!) to enter the promised land. David waited to become king, rejecting every opportunity to do away with Saul and expedite the beginning of his rule. Simeon and Anna waited until they were old to meet the Messiah. Jesus’s followers waited what was undoubtedly an excruciatingly long three days for him to rise from the tomb. And Christians all over the world have been waiting their whole lives for centuries to see the kingdom come again.

My waiting, in comparison, is oh-so-small, yet I know God doesn’t view it as small. My life, with all its little concerns, means much to him. I know this to be true because he is always, always faithful. I have never waited in vain.

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