The Art of Waiting

I had a lovely breakfast date with a friend this morning, and as my mind lingered over our shared words about times of transition and being 20-somethings, I started to think about waiting.

Everyone I know is waiting for something.

Waiting to meet the right person.

Waiting to get engaged.

Waiting to have a baby.

Waiting to adopt a baby.

Waiting for a promotion, a raise, or the right job to begin with.

Waiting for clarity, direction, purpose, or fulfillment.

Our 20s, especially, are chock full of waiting and transition. But I also think there's something about waiting that is common to man.

A couple of months ago, as I was preparing to teach at our Sunday night service, I met with my friend and "coach" Mike for a pre-service pep talk. (You know, the kind of coach's talk that makes you more nervous, in the best way possible.) As we chatted about the passage at hand--Exodus 32 on the Golden Calf--Mike made a suggestion: Maybe the word for our people is about waiting. "It was while they were waiting for Moses to come back down the mountain that the people sinned," Mike pointed out.

Yes. 

It was a powerful word. Not the one God had given me to share that night, but a word from my pastor and friend, and one that was not only for me, I think. I've been chewing on it ever since.

Moses had hardly been gone a month when the people went the way of their pagan neighbors and erected the golden calf. Just like the Israelites, it is in these moments of waiting when we can become fretful and disheartened. In our impatience we go our own way, devise our own schemes, make idols for ourselves. We forget God's goodness and His words to us. We neglect the covenant. We compromise.

But there is one who perfectly trusted in the Father's timing.

In our John Manuscript study tonight, we dissected Chapter Seven, in which Jesus observes the Festival of Booths. One of the remarkable things that rose to the top of our rather clumsy interpretation was Jesus' repeated words about his time having "not yet come" (John 7:6, 8). Just as God sent His Son at just-the-right, appointed time, so would He send him to the cross at the exact moment He ordained. Jesus knew this, so there was no need for him to rush into things. The Father who sent him from heaven would cause His plans to unfold in perfect timing.

Interestingly, the Festival of Booths, or Sukkot, looks back to a season of waiting. The Israelites were nomads, wandering the desert, looking for the Promised Land. I don't think it's any coincidence that in this passage with so much to say about God's perfect timing, Jesus observes this feast of waiting outside in tents.

How much more joyful our experience of life would be if we learned the art of waiting! If we settled into uncertainty, refusing to compromise in the in-between times. If we asked God to still our hearts and willingly walked with Him into the unknown.

After all, the Apostle Peter reminds us that our waiting is not just for a new job or a baby. Ultimately, we are waiting for the return of our King:

But according to his promise we are waiting for new heavens and a new earth in which righteousness dwells. Therefore, beloved, since you are waiting for these, be diligent to be found by him without spot or blemish, and at peace (2 Peter 3:13-14).

Your waiting will not end a moment later than God intends. He has designed it to bring you closer to Him, and also to bless you with a thousand graces that remain yet unseen. Will you trust Him?

myMISSIONfulfilled Bible Studies, Part II

The second part of my two-part Bible study for myMISSIONfulfilled has just aired. You can read it here. (Read Part I of the study here.) Writing Part II was a convicting adventure for me--I hope the passage challenges you as well!

Thanks for reading and for supporting the site!

With love,
Chelsea

Bible Studies for myMISSIONfulfilled

This month marked my first shot at writing the Bible studies for myMISSIONfulfilled.com, and it was a truly worshipful experience! The first one hit the site today and you can read it here. Stay tuned for the second one, to appear later this month.

Thanks for reading!

Sweeter in Tennessee

There is a little mountain--well a foothill, really--here in Nashville that always reminds me of God's faithfulness to me while I've lived in this city. A little background is necessary here, I suppose.

Two years ago upon my return from Italy, I received the news that I was no longer welcome at the church in Richmond where I had served prior to my stint overseas. It was a devastating blow. (Read more .) That night I picked up my Bible reading from the place I had left off the night before. And God, as He so often does in these pivotal moments, lent His eternal Word to my present situation:

"Observe therefore all the commands I am giving you today, so that you may have the strength to go in and take over the land that you are crossing the Jordan to possess...The land you are entering to take over is not like the land of Egypt, from which you have come, where you planted your seed and irrigated it by foot as in a vegetable garden. But the land you are crossing the Jordan to take possession of is a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven. It is a land the LORD your God cares for; the eyes of the LORD your God are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end" (Deuteronomy 11:8-12).

I cried my eyes out that night, but I also took God at His word, believing that He would faithfully give me a new land (read: ministry), and that it would be (spiritually) richer than the place I was leaving behind and entrusting to Him.

Fast forward two months. I arrived in Nashville for a visit to Forest Hills Baptist Church, where I was being considered for a summer youth internship. Cognitively, I was weighing the decision heavily against another church in Kansas City, but my heart was already tied to Nashville because of several connections here (not to mention my love of Southern cities). As I drove South on Hillsboro Road with a church employee that Saturday afternoon, I remarked at how beautiful the foothills were. She agreed and told me about Moores Lane, a little mountain in Franklin that she loved to drive on. Suddenly, the promise from Deuteronomy came rushing back to me:

"But the land you are crossing the Jordan to take possession of is a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven. It is a land the LORD your God cares for; the eyes of the LORD your God are continually on it from the beginning of the year to its end."

"Surely not God?" I hesitated to accept the words; they seemed too literal. Perhaps sub-consciously my selfish desires were manipulating my thinking. But as I looked into the beautifully rough Tennessee landscape, my heart did a little somersault. And as I continued to pray about the decision those next couple of weeks, I couldn't get the words from Deuteronomy out of my head...a land of mountains and valleys...a land the LORD your God cares for...

Needless to say I took the job. I drove into town late in May, and headed straight for the Tims' house, where I would stay for a week before moving in with the Harpers. Surely it's Providence that to get to the Tims' you have to take Moore's Lane. It was a perfect sunny spring day, and as I approached Moore's Lane, Bethany Dillon's song "Exodus" started playing on my pod:

Come, come fallen ones
Dance in the healing stream
He has faithfully kept you
Brought you out of captivity

Rejoice, rejoice with all your hearts
Sing Him a new song
That’s heard high on the windswept mountains
It will resound

And the song in my heart must have resounded from that windswept mountain...er...foothill; because as my SUV automatically switched gears to make it up the hill, the most delightful rain started to fall. The sun was still shining, but it was raining (a phenomenon Hawaiians call "liquid sunshine.")

I couldn't believe it. I cried a little and then laughed through my tears..."a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven...a land the LORD your God cares for." Suddenly I knew deep down in the depths of my heart that this would be for me a place of God's provision and rest.

From an e-mail home that night: "I'm sitting here tonight trying to finish up tomorrow's talk about the Old and New covenants, trying to wrap my mind around how faithful God is to us even when we are so lacking in faith, and I am just in awe of this personal covenant He has made with me for this summer."

Move, move your feet
Dance before the Lord
On to the Promised Land
On to your reward, sing

Lead, Lord, with unfailing love
Those that You have ransomed
And we will sing out as we go on
Our God is faithful
Our God is faithful

I drove on Moore's Lane last night on my way to pick up Chick fil A and watch LOST with Matt. And my heart caught in my chest, and I was overwhelmed at God's gracious provision for me here in this city. I'm heading out this weekend for an interview in Charlotte, preparing to potentially leave Nashville and the sweetness of Tennessee behind. It is a welcome change in many ways; I'm so ready for this dang cloud to move! But it is also bittersweet as I remember the goodness of God to me in this place, this land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven.

Gracious Uncertainty: Lessons from the Pillar of Cloud

For several years now I've been challenged by the story of the pillar of cloud. My freshman year of college, I had been praying fervently about spending some time ministering in Japan, and things were uncertain. Plans for my trip had fallen through several times, and I found myself questioning if God was shutting the door on my going or if I just needed to push through some opposition from the Enemy. That semester, I was reading Shadow of the Almighty, a book about missionary martyr Jim Elliot, written by his wife, Elisabeth Elliot. (If you've never read any of Ms. Elliot's books, I commend her to you as an incredible writer!) In one of Jim's college journal entries he wrote:

"Guidance for Israel in their [sic...] wandering was unquestionable (Numbers 9). There could be no doubt if God wished them to move. Shall my Father be less definite with me? I cannot believe so. Often I doubt, for I cannot see, but surely the Spirit will lead as definitely as the pillar of cloud. I must be as willing to remain as to go, for the presence of God determines the whereabouts of His people. 'Where I am, there shall also My servant be.' Very well, Lord--what of this summer?"

"Surely the Spirit will lead as definitely as the pillar of cloud"...Those words were like water to my soul during a time when the only thing clear was my inability to make things happen. And "I must be as willing to remain as to go"...a challenge to open my hands as I waited to see what was in store. As I, too, asked the question, "What of this summer?" the Lord ministered to my heart in regards to the clarity He promises those who call upon Him. He showed up in a powerful way, opening every door to allow me to go to Japan (see photo above of time spent in Kobe) and affirming His ability to accomplish His purposes regardless of circumstance.

Three summers later, a college graduate with no job, Numbers 9 is again the meditation of my heart; only now I am saying, "Very well, Lord, what of the rest of my life?!" While not having a job has certainly had it's perks this summer--like having time to go to weddings and to get settled in a new city--there have also been plenty of days when I'm discouraged by my unemployment. I have to say I never thought that as a college graduate I'd be excited about a job at the mall...it is a humbling thing, really. But even on those difficult days, I'm reminded of how God provided for His people in the desert by sending them manna (Exodus 16) and quail (Numbers 11), and by causing water to gush from the rock (Numbers 20). In similar fashion, the Lord's sweet blessings have "gushed" out in my own life this summer--He's provided a wonderful family for me to live with, He's met my needs through supportive parents and a meager income working a few hours of retail, and best of all He's lavished me with an amazing community of friends here in Nashville. I'm trusting that just as He guided the Israelites through the desert and into the land of the promise, He will "establish the work of my hands" (Psalm 90:17) in due time. In this case, I must be as willing to go as to stay!

I'm reminded of a quote from Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest:

"Certainty is the mark of the commonsense life…gracious uncertainty is the mark of the spiritual life. To be certain of God means that we are uncertain in all our ways, not knowing what tomorrow may bring. This is generally expressed with a sigh of sadness, but it should be an expression of breathless expectation. Leave everything to Him and it will be gloriously and graciously uncertain how He will come in, but you can be certain that He will come!

With breathless expectation!



*and for a humorous take on this subject, check out my good friend Josh's blog post:
http://lifewithusthree.com/archives/34