Waiting

Last night I was gifted by a friend with the opportunity to see Amy Grant in concert. Though she personally moved me with her approachability and comfort in her own skin, a young man opened for her that I also enjoyed very much.

Caleb Chapman exudes the "real-ness" that his father, Steven Curtis Chapman, has come to be known for. After sharing the story of tragically losing his younger sister, he sang a song about waiting—in the good times and in the bad.

Seems like everything I see is talking to me about waiting lately. I'm drawn to Sanctus Real's lyrics from "Whatever You're Doing:"

Whatever You're doing inside of me
Feels like it's chaos, but somehow there's peace
It's hard to surrender to something I can't see
But I'm giving in to something heavenly

Hmmm. I'm waiting in a host of ways, glued to the place I am by circumstances I can't control. I have fought it for awhile, but I'm tired now and don't want to fight anymore. Like Joni Eareckson Tada, I'm finding that God is still with me in my paralysis, maybe even moreso because of my inability to move.

To borrow a picture from Ken Gire, I have been like a cornered kitten, fighting and spitting to avoid being grasped by the giant hand coming for me. God's hand can be pretty intimidating. But as I've fallen forward in exhaustion, God has wrapped His huge, soft fingers around me, and I have felt comfort, peace and safety.

What are you fighting? Are you willing to lay down the sword and just wait? Not that we don't need to battle real and valid enemies, but can we recognize and admit when the enemy is us? Can we simply wait and not try to manipulate things to fit our perceptions of success? Our perceptions of our families or spouses? Our perceptions of spirituality? Our perceptions of God?

Maybe finding God is simply about sitting still long enough for Him to catch us. We're not so good at that anymore, but we can learn.

That's what I think I'm doing. I'm learning (again) to wait.