Sunday, August 19, 2012
August 19, 2012
In the past I have casually used the phrase, “Just waiting.” In this experience, however, there is no “just” about any aspect of the waiting I am doing. While there are times when the vigil is filled with physically motionless hours, the experience cannot be described as “just waiting.”
I understand only in part this time and the life changes that it brings. I sense clearly the great motionless stillness that sometimes comes. But I also sense that there are no mindless moments unmarked by living significance.
Increasingly I know this waiting as a noun, not a verb. Waiting is the place where I am, rather than something that I do.
This waiting place forms an unboundaried space. Time has a strangely fluid quality here independent of clock and calendar. I do not do—I just am, and presence fills the waiting space between Beth and me. Love is the language of the silence that threads between us.
One day Beth drifted in and out of a far world that touched only the edge of my experience, but this waiting space enfolded us both. Once she turned her head as though she sensed my presence. I touched her cheek, and smoothed back the damp hair on her forehead. She made no sound, gave no evidence of wakefulness. But in that waiting space the relationship that we share bloomed warm and vitally alive between us. Waiting made the space in which presence together—Beth with me, and I with Beth—could happen. I was with her and she with me in this waiting space, and in this shared presence we knew love.
Several times David instructed God’s people to wait on the Lord. Psalms 27: 14 is a good example.
I've been rethinking that phrase from Psalms these days and find that I’m paraphrasing it for myself somewhat like this:
"Make a time-unboundaried space in which the presence of God may bloom into a reality beyond substance or language, and relationship form an untethered bond of love.”
Thinking with you this week about the ways in which relationship prospers when there are waiting spaces through which it may flow, a silent place in which love can be known and learned.
Thinking with you too about the ways in which our relationship with God flourishes when there are waiting spaces through which the Spirit
flows, a stillness in which His love can be known without coercion or constraint. And I am increasingly aware of the ways in which I can encourage or inhibit the development of such spaces in my life.
I am enroute back to Kansas for a few days. Lori will share with you next week.
Blessings and peace,