The Waiting Roomby Doug Wysockey-Johnson |
to take some aspect of faith and chew on it a bit. |
As a pastor, I find myself frequently waiting with people in the hospital.
Sometimes we are alone, but often there will be other friends and family with
us. A few months ago I sat with a woman whose husband was having a tumor
removed. She was surrounded by friends, talking when she wanted to talk,
laughing at times, respecting the quiet when that was the mood. Mostly we all
just sat together. Waiting is Hard Work Waiting is hard work. Hard because there is no work to do. Students wait to
hear about grades, or admission to college. Adults wait to hear about the
potential job or relationship. People in transition wait for the house to sell.
Patients wait for the test results. The bereaved waits for the pain to subside.
Whether speaking of check out lines or deeper matters of the heart, it's
easy to see why we don't
much like waiting. We are out of control and powerless. Our fears expand within
us. If there was something we could do, we would. But we can't--so
we wait. Because the bible is about real life, it is filled with people waiting.
Abraham and Sarah wait for a child; Israel waits in exile, wondering if and when
they will return home. Hebrews
speaks of the distance race while the Psalmist puts the question directly to
God: "How
long O Lord? Will you forget me forever?"
Biblical characters know about waiting. Promises But their waiting is not empty waiting. It is waiting knowing that God has
made promises to them. Promises like that in Jeremiah 29:11 "For
surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare
and not for harm, to give you a future with hope."
To Abraham and Sarah the promise was for children; to the exiled Hebrews God
promises return. To the Psalmist, presence, and to Paul, enough grace to run the
race. So we do not wait empty-handed. We hold God's
promise of shalom--a day when we will be more whole. Still our waiting is hard. Excruciating at times. We need more than God's
promises--we need God's
people Waiting Together This past week my wife had minor surgery. There I was, once again in the
waiting room. I had downplayed the event with friends: "No
I didn't
need anyone to wait with me... I'll
use the time to get some reading done for work...
etc., etc." But I had forgotten about how hard it is to focus when the one you
love is on an operating table. So I fidgeted, leafed through magazines, prayed
distractedly and paced. A friend from church was wise enough not to listen to my "No
we don't
need anything" bravado. She tracked me down in the waiting room, muffins in hand. We sat
together a few minutes until I could go to the post-op room. I was grateful for
her persistence and presence. Waiting with each other is what we do in Christian community. To simply sit
together when the outcome is not clear. Sometimes encouraging and remembering the promises, other times laughing or crying. Bringing muffins, or sitting,
walking and praying with each other. Sunday comes, and the Sanctuary is like a big Waiting Room. In this space we
sit, the waiting people of God. On any given week the Waiting Room has sounds of
joy and laughter because there has been some new birth or healing. Other times
tears are shed, because the news is bad, or the waiting continues. When we cannot pray, we trust others to pray for us. Rather than leafing
through the latest copy of Newsweek, we sing from a hymnal and hear from the
Scriptures. We connect our story of waiting with God's promises. The Waiting Room is a hard place to be. But it is made easier by the presence
of each other. I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the
living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for
the Lord. Psalm 27:13-14 For Your Group Doug Wysockey-Johnson is pastor of Jericho Covenant Church near Burlington
VT.
A number of years ago my father had major heart surgery. So I joined my
family in
the Waiting Room. Leafing through the magazines. Superficial chatting. Wandering
down to the cafeteria. Praying in a distracted way. Looking up every time the
phone rang, wondering if it was our time to meet with the surgeon. My father's
by-pass operation is long past, but the experience of the waiting room is etched
in my memory.