Ramblings and Wisdom

Patience in Gethsemane

There you are. You know what you heart hungers for. It tears at you from the inside. It is a constant companion. You know something needs to be done to feed this desire. You try to distract yourself. For a time, the pains disappear. A cure? No, the hunger is worse. You hunt for relief. There is none. You seek help from others. You ask them for food. They don’t know what you are talking about. You are starving. You have no choice. What you need can’t be taken. It can only be given. You wait. 

And waiting is miserable work.

This act will require infinitely more of you then action ever could. It will test you in unforeseeable ways. It will be painful. Truly painful. It will ask you to give up all your precious control. It will bring up feelings of unworthiness, of anger, of injustice, of self-pity. It will be a battle. I repeat, it will be a battle. You will become overwhelmed. You will look to others for help. They won’t understand. They will all give you the same advice. The only advice that they can give. You should just do something. Anything. If you are a Christian. You must give God something to work with. A lie. It doesn’t cure. It hurts. They see God as small. You as big. They say you are broken. You know you are chosen.

And waiting is miserable work.

Someone will mention the men and women of faith. Moses. David. Mary. Jesus. They all waited. God still moved. He still did great things. A divine pattern. An archetype to superimpose. It doesn’t make the waiting easier. It does make you more willing to trust. To soldier on. To love. To hope.  

And waiting is miserable work.

Years pass. Slowly. Crawling forward. Hope differed. Filled with discomfort. Long suffering. Frustration. Yearning. It changes you. Tears become your language of choice. Releasing prayers. Molding you. You become gentler. More patient. More merciful. You become more like you. Others notice. They mock you. They hate you. They push you. They pull at you. They really just want what you have. You point to the wait. They are unwilling.

And waiting is miserable work.

More rungs to the ladder. I know nothing of. Look to the wisemen. They talk of a promised land. A second Jerusalem. An escape from the waiting. They say it comes unexpectantly. The gift long delayed. Almost forgotten. When it arrives. You can’t believe it. You almost don’t want to. As your hunger leaves. Satisfaction. Bliss. Peace. Lasting only a moment. It feels eternal. It is enough. They say it always was. Are they trustworthy? What other hope is there. Our hearts continue to break.

And waiting is miserable work.

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