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.
