The air is stagnant. Little light reaches this dull place. The chairs are old and worn. People sit and wait. Some know what they're waiting for, others don't. But they all wait. They just sit wearing the dim paisley thinner. A sigh escapes. A sliver of light exposes a shower of dust particles. Cracked clocks tell the wrong time. But no one seems to notice. They wait because they don't want to choose.
I used to think waiting was the absence of choice. We wait because we can't, or won't, choose. We wait by default.
I now know different.
Waiting is a choice I make every minute of every hour of every day. It's an active surrender. I don't wake up, and find myself sitting in God's waiting room. I wake up and I choose to wait on the Lord. It's not my default mode. In fact, it goes against the grain of my nature to wait.
So often, I just want to know! I want to act, I want to choose. But I'm finding, that waiting is knowing. It is acting and it is choosing.
Waiting is knowing that Christ knows my every need and desire. It's acting in Christ's strength not my own. And it's choosing to be surrendered to His will.
This waiting is breathing, living, acting.
In every season of life I'll be waiting for something. And right now, I can practice the choice of waiting. I can practice following God, fully surrendered.
I wait for a letter. I wait for a time to speak.
Grey clouds cover the summer sky tonight. They take the sunset and wrap it up tight. But they're moving clouds. Shifting, churning. I can spot slivers of pale blue showing. I wait for stars to peek out.
I choose to wait.