The Intentional Wait

King David had to wait twelve years from the time he was promised the throne until the time it became his. During that twelve years, he was hotly pursued by a man whose jealousy of David had driven him to utter, murderous madness. Still, he waited. He could have amassed an army with the sole intention of killing Saul and seizing the throne of Israel. Easily. What was the song? "Saul has slain his thousands, David his tens of thousands"? Yeah. Pretty sure he could've taken the throne at any moment. But he waited. He knew that God was going to give him the throne, and he agreed to have it no other way.

I remember, when I was about 19 years old, telling someone just how badly I wanted to be married, how everything in my life just had to be building up to that, and I would just die if it didn't happen soon. She said something to the effect of, "You know, David had to wait a dozen years before God made him king." I nodded intently, I might have even murmured a reverent amen. And in my mind, I thought, You.are.crazy.lady.

Well, it's almost twelve years later...

Funny how a little conversation I had over 4,000 days ago is suddenly smacking me in the middle of the forehead. Holy mackerel.

The weekends have been difficult lately. We run and run and run during the week, so I don't typically have much of a chance to look around and think about what - if anything - may be missing from our already-blessed life. But the weekend...when everything slows down, and I'm in charge of our days, things get quiet. And my mind starts ticking off the questions. What if I had...why hasn't it...when will it...what did I do...what am I missing...how did it become...why? Why hasn't He done this yet??

I told my mother, I wish I had the luxury of thinking that my prayers were bouncing off the ceiling. Trouble is, I know He hears me...I know He sees me...I know He feels what I'm feeling...I know He knows. I just don't know why He won't do anything about it. Right this minute. Because obviously, that's the schedule I'm workin' on here.

So last Saturday, I dropped Liv off with my grandparents and headed back to my house to get ready for a girls' night with Robin. Cute clothes, dinner out, catching up...it really doesn't get any better. Robin showed up at the Briar around 6:30, along with the news of nine super-cell thunderstorms and tornado predictions - everywhere. Awesome. Thankfully, I do my very darnedest to keep a well-stocked kitchen, and she does her very darnedest to eat whatever I cook for her, no matter how random. We're a good fit like that. But then, most all of my girlfriends indulge my culinary experimentation. Rather, they indulge themselves on my culinary experimentation. Either way, really. Anyway, I digress.

On my way back to the house to meet Robin, I just had to start talking. This thing was too heavy, and I needed to say it and hear it being said in the hopes that at least the catharsis would buy me some time until I could figure out what to do with the rest of the questions. I felt this crazy urgency to pray...and even though things were hurting and icky, the sense of being drawn to my Father was a comfort, as it always is. So I prayed. And I cried. And I got stuck in the middle of the questions, just like I always do. I plowed on through and prayed a little more, before getting home and spending girls' night with Robin watching KTHV radar and following the #arwx hashtag on Twitter.

Fast forward to Craig's sermon Sunday morning. The topic, you ask? Unanswered prayer. You know, that place in the middle of my forehead is getting a little sore from all the smacking. But I listened. And I'm going to have to listen again. And probably a couple more times. Sometimes I feel like this is completely frivolous. Barren women are crying out to God for a child. Unemployed men are pleading with God for a job so they can provide for their families. Abused children are imploring Jesus to intercede on their behalf. And here I am...with a gorgeous, amazing daughter, a fantastic job, a family that supports and deeply loves me, a home, wonderful friends, a healthy body, an active mind...and I'm whining about not having a husband. But see, the thing is, to me, a husband is Hannah's Samuel. It's the jobless man's career. It's an abused child's rescue. And why do I feel like that is wrong and melodramatic?

For some reason, we've taken Paul's teachings on marriage and interpreted them in such a way that marriage becomes this completely unnecessary side-bar to the Christian life. If you've got it, spend it wisely, and if not, by all means, don't rock the boat because good GRIEF does that ever make it harder to keep your sanity and your faith. Am I allowed to either disagree with that or say: even so...yes, please? Chances are, I'm not. Liturgically speaking, anyway.

But I do have a choice. And right now, that choice is to wait.

To wait for the Lord.
to entrench oneself...to dig in
To be strong and take heart
to set one's face, to act manfully
To wait
in hope, in eager expectation
For the Lord.
for the Lord.

So I wait.