Wednesday, December 5, 2012

mum.

"I’ve played the waiting game. Finding a job, waiting out a junky one. Trying to connect, to put down roots that take. Some days with small kids are an exercise in being present, in not just waiting until their dad comes home or bedtime or tomorrow’s new mercies, Sweet Jesus, please.

I want to learn the discipline of waiting well. To not wish away this day or season for my imaginary ideal that doesn’t even exist. I don’t want to miss today’s hallowed joys waiting numbly for tomorrow’s.

...

I wonder about the landscape of faith between testaments, during those four hundred years of scriptural silence. The Bible is mum, but surely God moved. His prophets kept no records, but wasn’t every common bush afire with God? Didn’t the mountains and hills burst into song and the trees of the field clap their hands?

Even now, spring lies waiting beneath winter’s dormancy...

Can I trust God at work beyond all that I see, hear, and touch? Can I glimpse glory within familiar circumstance?

...

They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth.

Blessed are we who wait and mourn. Who believe and serve. Who proclaim the promises fulfilled and hold out hope for those to come."

...

Beautifully written, first posted here.  Mulling over what the ideas of endurance, hope, and waiting mean for me, in my own life.

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