HELLO!

Have you ever found yourself waiting…waiting for a phone call with important news, waiting for a decision to emerge after a lengthy time of confusion and disorientation, when you are not sure what is the right way forward? In those moments, that day, throughout the week, what do you do, how do you pray? Do you try to distract yourself, pray harder and more intensely, or just let the day come to you?

I hate waiting. I am not a complainer, nor do I imagine, “it’s all about me”, so line-ups are not occasions for me to feel anger. But knowing others are waiting too does not change my frustration with what I deem wasted time. If I see a line up, even for something I desire, I will move on. No resentment, no lingering regret, I let go. Still, I rarely find myself waiting and when I do, it is challenging. I usually make mental lists, what I will do when the waiting is over. I tend to think of waiting as a gap. A void. An empty, useless space between where I am and where I want to be. Like a waiting room. You just sit there. Staring at a five-year-old magazine. Doing absolutely nothing. But what if spiritual waiting isn’t passive? What if waiting on God isn’t a delay in your story…what if it’s a crucial chapter of your story? What if it is the most profoundly active thing you could possibly do? Most often, when I am waiting, I go for a long and vigorous walk. But more recently, when I am waiting on something or someone I go to the Muskoka chair Kim bought for me, on our back deck. And I pray.

See, when the scriptures talk about waiting on God, it’s not about making lists. It’s not about spiritual resentment. It’s about tension. Think of a seed buried deep in the dark, heavy dirt. From the outside, it looks like nothing is happening. It looks abandoned. It feels like the gardener forgot all about it. But beneath the surface? Everything is happening. The shell is breaking. Roots are desperately reaching and digging deep into the soil. True, sustainable growth is occurring. You cannot get the massive, unshakeable oak tree without the dark, quiet, excruciatingly slow work of the seed in the dirt. It’s in the waiting that our false idols are slowly stripped away. It’s in the waiting that our faith stops being a neat little transaction with the Divine -“I do this for you, God, so you give me that”- and starts becoming a real, breathing relationship. We finally discover God isn’t a vending machine. God is presence.

Sometimes, the most profound gift God can give us is the uncomfortable silence that forces us to pause, stop rushing, and start listening for God’s purpose, intention, truth. The discipline of waiting isn’t about ignoring reality; it’s about anchoring yourself deeply in the goodness of God. It’s active trust. It’s rebellious hope. So, if you find yourself in the waiting room right now—frustrated, tired, wondering if God lost your file – consider leaning into it. Because the soil is doing its work. I leave you with three questions to chew on. Let these sit with you. Ponder them:

1. In our moments of discouragement: When we’re exhausted and ready to throw in the towel, we can ask ourselves what if life is a continuous pathway, a journey, to build a deeper, more resilient reliance on God’s Way rather than our own (We>Me)?

2. In our season of endless searching: When we are desperately looking for the next right answer, are we willing to sit in the uncomfortable, quiet mystery of “I don’t know yet” and trust God’s presence is enough for today?

3. In our messy time of transition: In that terrifying, beautiful space between what was and what will be, how can we actively tend to the soil of our soul today, instead of frantically rushing toward tomorrow? Something more to ponder today.

Peace, Kevin

PS This photo of Muskoka chairs was taken by my friend Brian who recently has been attending church with us at Woodlawn with his wife Heather. When Brian is waiting, he wanders the streets with his camera ready to engage God’s presence. He sends me nine such photos every Monday morning. I send these to a list of people who have requested to see them. If you would like to be included, please let me know.