Next to the floor to ceiling windows banking a row of seats, I stand in line waiting for communion, quietly hugging people as they walk past, wafers and wine fresh on palettes. Our missing a couple of Sundays obviously doesn’t matter, the smiling countenance on faces and loving embrace reveals they are caught up on the latest.
Can I tell you how much it means to me when someone says they wait up for my blog posts to slide into their inbox? How much it means to know people are praying for us even when we don’t ask?
I used to think our move to London was the fulfillment of a long held dream of living in a city bustling with cultural diversity that speaks my language, a hallowed returning to where my ancestral roots began. Of fulfilling a compulsive yearning for the company of lifelong friends with whom I share a sense of belonging. To cultivate new friendships where there resides an unexplainable affinity.
Mostly, my heart clings to the palpable presence of the Holy Spirit among cohorts doing work for the Kingdom in London. Infused with the Message of hope, I daily dream of being a small flickering flame for those trapped in darkness, dying without knowing it.
But it is presumptuous of me to believe I know how that should look. It is presumptuous to insist on a time table for following Jesus.
I used to think I knew until God offended me by saying wait.
And wait some more.
And then more waiting.
What I initially assumed as cruel silence from an ambivalent father when God kept pushing our move back, I now recognize as a dimly lit room of sanctification.
Because God cares more about our holiness than a well-planned road map for happiness.
I’m looking in the mirror now and asking, “Who are you?”
And that, my friends, is a miraculous gift. Unless you ask at midnight and you’re tired, then it’s just annoying.
After church, we stand in another line going out. As H shakes the hands of friends and fathers who ask the same question, he repeats “It’s not a matter of if we are moving to London but when.”
Apparently, this blog is a public relations tool for me and not H.
The Son is rising slowly as we wait, illuminating undiscovered places in my faith.
Peace isn’t a place; it’s the Person of Jesus.
More than claiming a country and its people as an expression of calling, I claim the God of wonders whose ways are beyond my comprehension and better than I imagine.
In every true prayer there are two hearts in exercise. The one is your heart, with its little, dark, human thoughts of what you need and God can do. The other is God’s great heart, with its infinite, its divine purposes of blessing. What think you? ~Andrew Murray
I consent not to know what, when and how God will choose to orchestrate my future but I expect it to be altogether godly and miraculous when the details finally come together.
Not only does He want you to know he loves you, He wants to prove it with supernatural grace. An outcome worth waiting for, wouldn’t you agree?
I won’t be sharing my posts on social networking channels daily because who wants to see that much of me, really? If you want to follow our adventure to London subscribe to the blog in the side bar and posts will slide quietly into you inbox. Start from the beginning of the series here.
My mother used to say that life was about choices and changes. Looks like you have it all. Blessings.
It seems the older we get, the more wisdom we accrue David. I do have it all right now. One of the few times I might like a little less. Thanks for stopping by and letting me know you were here. I appreciate you.
Oh Shelly, your #31days series has been blessing my socks off! And today’s post? I know this place to well (in the last several years) and have read a little pamphlet/book by Andrew Murray called, Waiting on God. Because for the love, it draws out everything within me and more to do it. But the refining that happened amongst the furnace of waiting, well, it is worth its weight in gold. However, I prefer to avoid it whenever possible. Ahem, God. 🙂
Tammy, it’s nice to know you are reading/following along. I am reading that same book you mentioned, Jody Collins sent it to me. I’m savoring each reading because there is so much good truth, yes? I agree, what I’ve learned is priceless. Would I want to do it again? Not at all.
Tammy, I’m sleepy, and I first read that: “Worth its wait in gold.” But that’s true isn’t it? God’s waits are worth their weight in gold.
Wow, Shelly. This post brought me to tears–how you, your journey (waiting is one kind of journeying in place), and your writing are touching people. Could part of your wait even be this blog–how God wants you to share each and every stop and rest-stop that you encounter each and every day with your fellow sojourners? I’m thinking it is. Public relations, indeed, it is. Intimate and soul-enriching relations. And maybe part of the proving of His love for you is how He is calling you to wait, and then what He gives you will be all the sweeter because you have waited so long to receive it. You will know His love deeper, richer, far-er (is that a word?!), and higher, because you have waited–waited on Him. Rest in Him, dear one. He has a purpose in this more far-reaching than you can possibly know or imagine.
Your “waiting” muscles are surely getting strong with all this exercise. I’ve enjoyed (am enjoying) this 31 Days series.
Shelly, this series itself is a beautiful picture of how you’re waiting – expectant, believing that the miracle will come even though you don’t know how, daily putting yourself out there – london, london, london. Faith is costly and sanctification is costly, so prayers for grace to sustain you as you keep paying the cost of belief.
“…a dimly lit room of sanctification”, Oh my – never has a dimly lit room
shined so bright. Thank you for another stunning post. Filled with truth.
Hey Shelly. This right here: “What I initially assumed as cruel silence from an ambivalent father when God kept pushing our move back, I now recognize as a dimly lit room of sanctification.” —It resonates so deep. Stan and I have been waiting literally all. year. long. to move to Colorado. To partner again with the church family where we fell in love and got married. To be near Stan’s side of our extended family. We had a contract on our house back in July and it fell through. We’re under contract again but the contract has taken 4 months so far to come through and we’re still waiting…… Anyway. All of that to say – I connect with your journey. And I’m sorry for the pain of the waiting. And simultaneously I deeply value what Jesus has done inside me during the waiting, in all the longing yet to be fulfilled. Grace, grace, and more grace to you, friend. <3