by jphilo | Feb 27, 2015 | Daily Life
Friday on this Gravel Road means it’s time to dig through the archives for a past post worth another read. This one hails from February of 2013. Reading it was a bit discouraging, as it showed my impatience hasn’t increased much in the past 2 years. Anyone else suffer from this affliction? Leave a comment R-I-G-H-T N-O-W so we can start a support group pronto!
This past Wednesday was not a good day.
First, I was supposed to meet a friend for coffee in the morning and because I’d written the time down wrong, got there a half hour late. Being an impatient person, I hate to keep others waiting.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
After working on a blog post for over almost two hours, it refused to come together the way I wanted. Impatient people like me don’t have time to waste spend almost two hours on a single blog post.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
The google chat audio feature was malfunctioning on my computer, so I missed an online meeting in the afternoon. Impatient people have no patience with technical glitches.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
A publisher rejected a piece I wrote for a devo Bible being compiled by a friend. Not only that, the publisher wanted extensive citations (including book page numbers) for a half-dozen quotes for other pieces I’d written. Impatient people don’t enjoy skimming long books to find page numbers.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
Hiram spent all afternoon trying to file our income tax with Turbo Tax. He’s usually pretty patient, but after several hours of online chats with Turbo Tax experts and two phone calls, he was a little cranky. Impatient people like me think we’re the only ones with a right to be cranky.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
The cold Hiram’s been fighting for two weeks came back with a vengeance that night. He ran a temperature again and coughed all night. Which didn’t sit well with a woman who needs plenty of sleep in order to be patient.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
The worst of it was this. I woke up Thursday morning and realized impatient people like me spend all their time looking at gray skies. We are so focused on the gloom, we don’t even see the gap in the clouds and the sun streaming through.
Impatient people like me forget they have
friends to visit,
blogs to write,
a computer that functions flawlessly 99.9% of the time,
writing projects to complete,
income tax refunds to file,
and a husband whose job provides sick leave and excellent health insurance.
Yes, that’s the worst of it.
Dear Father, forgive me for not slowing down to look for the gap in the clouds. Forgive me for focusing on the gloomy clouds and missing the joy of the Son. Please teach me to be patient…as quickly as possible. Amen.
by jphilo | Oct 6, 2014 | Church Newsletter Columns
How long, O LORD, will I call for help, And You will not hear?
I cry out to You, “Violence!” Yet You do not save.
Habakkuk 1:2
I do not like to wait. To be perfectly clear, I am not to blame for this character flaw. Part of the blame I attribute to my mother, who is equally impatient. Some of it rests with the managers who schedules too few checkers at the stores where I wait in line. A teeny-tiny bit of blame belongs whoever programs red lights to be way too long at intersections. And a little of it belongs to modern technology, which has trained me to expect instant gratification with every computer click.
But most of the blame, the way I see it, belongs to God. After all, the moment I recently became aware of a difficult matter dear to my heart, I did what Christians are supposed to do. I started to pray a really good prayer. It was full of sentiments about accepting God’s will, whatever that might be. Packed with praise for God’s sovereignty and the goodness of His ways. Filled with snippets of Bible verses acknowledging all of the above. Stating my intent to wait upon the Lord until, in His perfect timing, He answered my prayer as He saw fit. Ending with big, fat, juicy, emotional “amen.”
About five seconds later, things started to fall apart. Not because I was impatient or anything. But because God did not immediately respond to my perfectly constructed, perfectly Christian prayer as expected. Instead, His answer was to wait. Which as has been mentioned before, is not something I do well. And I’m in good company. The Bible is full of impatient people who, while they couldn’t blame store managers or traffic light programmers or computers for their character flaws, they did occasionally blame God. And maybe their mothers. Though there’s not so much biblical evidence on that front, so let’s not go there.
However, the Bible is full of stories of people who blamed God for making them wait. Who did the people blame while they wandered for 40 years in the wilderness? God. Who did Jonah blame for his 3 day stay in the belly of a whale? God. Who did Elijah blame for the need to hide in a cave for days on end? God. Who did Habakuk want to blame when the kingdom of Judah was about to fall? God.
But Jesus, who laid aside His heavenly powers and come to earth, didn’t blame God when He waited and walked among us for 33 years. He didn’t blame God for hours of agony on the cross or for lying dead in a tomb for 3 days. Instead of blaming God for making Him wait, Jesus trusted His Father as He waited. The waiting was hell, but Jesus trusted God’s promise of the glory waiting for Him–and for us–on the other side.
When waiting is hell for you and me, we can do better than blaming God or store managers or technology, for our impatience. Instead, we can lean into Jesus. We can ask Him to show us how to wait and how to trust our faithful Father. With Jesus holding us up, we can look beyond the wait to what’s waiting on the other side–glory, wholeness, restoration, and rejoicing in the presence of God. An eternity worth waiting for, don’t you think?
Photo Credit: Stuart Miles at www.freedigitalphotos.com
by jphilo | May 2, 2014 | Church Newsletter Columns
So we have the prophetic word made more sure,
to which you do well to pay attention as to a lamp shining in a dark place,
until the day dawns and the morning star arises in your hearts.
2 Peter 1:19
Waiting. I’m not very good at it, as the slow retreat of the winter of 2014 made very clear. Much as I wanted spring to come, nothing could be done but to wait for the snow to melt, the grass to green, the temperatures to rise, the trees to bud, and the flowers to bloom.
So wait I did. Impatiently. Eagerly. Quivering with anticipation for the daffodils to spread their sunshine, for the lilacs to release their fragrance, and for the fawns to creep out, knock-kneed and wonderful, from the underbrush. I waited and waited, all the while asking, “What’s taking so long?”
Now, the wait is over. Each day new sign of the changing seasons creates more joy and gratitude in me than they ever did after easy winters. Everyday, I cherish the beauty of spring, I delight in it more than in the years where the cold was so fleeting there was barely time to anticipate better days to come.
During the cold weeks of March that dragged into April, while waiting for spring and Easter to arrive, my thoughts turned often to those who loved Jesus and witnessed his death on a cross. His followers knew plenty about waiting. After his death, they waited without hope. After his ascension, they waited for the promised power of the Holy Spirit to descend. After Pentacost, they waited for Christ to come in glory and fulfill the promises foretold in Scripture.
For that great and glorious day, we still wait. Impatiently. Eagerly. Quivering with anticipation for Jesus to spread Sonshine over this fallen world, for the fragrance of Christ to be released, and for a new creation to emerge and fill us with wonder. We wait, and we wait, asking over and over and over again, “Lord, what’s taking so long?” But he doesn’t answer.
Or perhaps he does. Perhaps his answer comes, bit by bit, with each day of this long awaited spring. With each cardinal song made more precious by long months of silence. With each ray of dawning light that pierces the darkness a little earlier each morning. With each tulip colored brighter by our hunger for beauty. With each caress of a soft breeze on cheeks once frozen by cold.
Perhaps he is saying that, just as we count a spring slow in coming most precious, so the future return of Christ grows infinitely more valuable through long waiting. Perhaps he is saying that the longer we wait for the glorious day of Christ’s return to dawn, the brighter it will shine. The greater will be our joy. The happier will be our tears. The longer we will dance. And the louder we will sing when the morning star arises forever and for always in our hearts.
by jphilo | Mar 25, 2014 | Top Ten Tuesday
10. Snow this late doesn’t stick around long.
9. The white stuff spruces up the dinginess of March.
8. Snow this late doesn’t stick around long.
7. Springtime snow = an extra week or two of soup weather.
6. Snow this late doesn’t stick around long.
5. Spring clothes last an extra year or two.
4. Snow this late doesn’t stick around long.
3. Snow in October riles kids up. Snow in March is an antidote to spring fever.
2. Snow this late doesn’t stick around long enough for this reason to be repeated again.
1. Snow on a late March Monday makes a late March Thursday trip to sunny southern California worth every penny!
by jphilo | Dec 3, 2013 | Top Ten Tuesday
10. “Jo, could you bring me the afghan my ma made. I’m cold.”
“Okay, Mom. Do you want the brown, orange, or cream-colored one?
9. “Is it time to go to bed yet? I’m tired.”
“It’s about 7:30. Can you make it until 8:00?”
8. “Jo, what do you have to eat around here?”
“Bananas, oranges, dried apples, cashews, or I can make some popcorn.”
“Oh, popcorn sounds good.”
7. “Here, Jo. Since you’re going to the kitchen, I’ll let you take my popcorn bowl to the
sink.”
“Okey-dokey.”
6. “It’s time for the weather/The Price is Right/Jeopardy/Judge Judy/Wheel of Fortune/Antiques Roadshow. Now, how does this remote work?”
“Hmmm…I can’t figure it out either. Let’s ask Hiram.”
5. “Mom, do you want to play Skippo?”
“I guess I can, if you’d like to.”
4. “Mom, would you like to play Uno?”
“I guess so, if it’ll make you happy.”
3. “Uno!”
“What do you mean, Uno already Mom?”
“I’m out, Jo. Eh-eh-eh!”
“How long have you been practicing that evil laugh? It’s kinda creepy, Mom.”
“Eh-eh-eh!”
“Dorothy, I’m going to record it and make it the ring tone on my phone.”
“Eh-eh-eh. Don’t even think it, Hiram.”
2. “Okay, Mom. It’s 8:30 if you want to go to bed. Sleep tight. I love you.”
“I know you do.”
1. “Both my mother and mother-in-law were really good cooks. You take after them, Jo.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
How does/did your mom say “I love you”? Leave a comment.
Photo Credit: www.freeditigalphotos.net
