Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD. Psalm
27:14
I started a new job last week.
The nice folks at The Alpena
News decided to let me do some writing for them as an official,
honest-to-goodness reporter.
On the first day of work I got a
tour of the newsroom, Bill Speer’s moustache bouncing jovially as he introduced
my new co-workers. The first glimpse of my desk set my heart a-hoppin’.
A newspaper is such a lovely
thing, a window to see each other and a rope to reach each other and a
flashlight into the dark recesses where souls wait to be seen. That first day I
was ready to dive into an exhilarating existence as a teller of truths, a
transformer of society. Clark Kent, here I come.
Turns out you have to learn a
few things before you can put on the superhero outfit.
The first day melted into the
second as I learned the basics of my new job. How to conduct an interview. Where
to track down the best stories. Which buttons are broken on the microwave.
By the third day I figured I had
it all together and was ready to roll. I listened to Steve on the other side of
the cubicle wall, tracking down a story in his hound dog way. Darby’s easy
laugh carried across the room as she pulled together another interesting story
for the Lifestyles section. They were hard at work, and I longed to join them.
Fingers flexed, the keyboard
beckoning, I took a deep breath and prepared to change the world.
An hour later, the world had not
yet been changed.
My editor, bombarded by my
volley of exasperated sighs, stopped by my desk to see how things were going.
Slowly, that’s how they were
going. While my coworkers were scampering through their stories, I was clawing
my way forward one hard-won word at a time.
“It’ll get easier,” he said. “I
promise.”
He’s a good guy, my editor. I
can tell he’s not going to leave me to figure this job out on my own. He’ll be
there when I have questions or need a word of inspiration or can’t work the
microwave.
He made me a promise, and I
believe him. It’ll get easier. It’ll probably get great. Someday I might even
be able to bust out the spandex tights and cape.
Sometimes, if something really
good is coming, you just have to wait.
We tell the story of Christmas
night, the silent darkness broken by a baby’s cry. Rough sheep-herders talk in
subdued tones, angels fill the sky, and a young mother holds her small son.
Okay, but here’s the thing about
the Christmas story. That baby swaddled in the manger? The one that was also
God? It was thirty YEARS before He started telling people who He was.
That’s a long time to wait.
Picture the new mother, possibly
barely in her teens herself. She gazes at the tiny squinched face and looks for
a sign that this small human is the Messiah her people have been promised.
She waits…and waits. Through
toddlerhood, through those awkward junior high days, into adolescence and the
letting go years, she watches and waits for what she knows is coming.
She waits until she is nearly
fifty. Watching this man who is her son who is also her Savior, remembering
God’s promises of rescue, wondering…when? When?? When will what is waited for
arrive?
All mothers need patience. The
mother of the Messiah – I can’t even imagine the endurance required for that
job.
The serene tableau of Christmas
lets us breathe a moment. There is in the nativity picture a peace that sets
the rest of life in the background. Colored lights in a dark living room, scarf-wrapped
shoppers scrutinizing lists of loved ones, Pandora playlists that hum through
our ears with familiar words. A time away from the impatience of the daily to-dos
and the striving and running and pushing and falling.
After Christmas, though – we go
back to the waiting.
Waiting for change. Waiting for peace.
Waiting for the phone to ring,
for the hurt to go away, for the good to come. Waiting for the time to pass.
Waiting to change the world.
The mother with the baby waited.
She waited for a promise to be fulfilled, the promise of salvation for her
people.
And as she waited, the very Messiah
for whom she longed was right there by her side.
Day after day we strain toward a
hoped-for tomorrow that can be so slow in coming. But we do not wait by
ourselves.
The Savior who loves us does not
leave us alone in our longings. He’s not at the end of the journey. He is our
companion along the way.
The One who came into this
chaotic world just to be with us is within reach, hearing our questionings, inspiring
our footsteps, staying true to His promise to not leave us to fend for
ourselves in the darkness.
Change may be slow in coming.
Peace may lurk just out of reach. You might have to learn something before you
get where you want to go.
Wait. Take your heart in your
hand and stand strong and wait. It’ll come. And you are not alone.
First published in The Alpena News on December 29, 2018.
