Author: <span>Christine Lindstrom</span>

Psalm 27:14 (ESV)

Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage;wait for the Lord!

Waiting is hard. Even waiting for something good and exciting is hard. Think of kids counting the days until Christmas or their birthdays. Preparing and waiting for major life events such as graduations or weddings can be full of anticipation. The longest waiting minutes of all might just be reserved for the last few weeks of a pregnancy, when you don’t even know exactly how long the wait will be. 

It isn’t any easier to wait for the difficult things in life. Waiting for the doctor to call with your test results… sitting in the hospital waiting room while a loved one has surgery… waiting for the inevitable as an earthly life draws to a close. 

Waiting is the stuff of life. From the mundane things, like waiting in a checkout line or for frozen pizza to cook in the oven, to life’s most important moments, so much of life is spent waiting. 

With so much practice, you’d think we’d get better at it. In a culture of TV on demand, microwave cooking, and same-day delivery, it seems that our tactic instead is to avoid it whenever possible. Like a microwave burrito – it’s convenient, but is it good for us? Will we end up regretting it?

“Good things come to those who wait.”

This old proverb has been used in everything from poetry and literature to ketchup commercials. It usually implies that the good things are waiting for us at the end of the waiting, like a reward for our patience. But what if the good things come in the waiting – regardless of the outcome?

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
    the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
    his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
    and to him who has no might he increases strength.
Even youths shall faint and be weary,
    and young men shall fall exhausted;
but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
    they shall mount up with wings like eagles;
they shall run and not be weary;
    they shall walk and not faint. (Isaiah 40:28-31)

Waiting is hard, and it can drain us of our energy and rob us of our strength. Young or old, we can become weary and exhausted. But both the psalmist and Isaiah refer to finding strength in waiting for the Lord. Strength sounds good to me. I need some more of that. So what does this really mean? How do I wait for the Lord? Isn’t that just more waiting?

I don’t have complete answers to these questions. But I am currently in one of those hard waiting seasons and there are a few clues I’m drawing from these texts.

Wait = hope? Many translations of Isaiah 40:31 use the word wait but several prominent translations choose the word hope. It turns out that the original Hebrew word implies both. It’s only in language that we have to choose between waiting and hoping in the Lord. Our hearts can do both at the same time. When we do, we find our strength renewed. 

Let your heart take courage. The Holy Spirit within me knows how to wait on the Lord and can guide my heart in receiving the strength it needs from him. I would prefer a tidy 3-step plan that I can follow that keeps me in control of how and when I receive this strength. On demand. Immediate delivery. Ready in 30 seconds at the push of a button. What I get instead is an opportunity to let the Spirit take control, and I need only to allow myself to receive. It’s a “close your eyes and hold out your hands so I can give you a gift” kind of taking, not a “rally the army and storm the hill” kind of taking. 

Waiting is such a standard part of life that it feels safe to assume that you are also in some form of waiting period as you read this. May your strength be renewed as you wait with hope in the God who can do all things, and may you receive courage from the One who never grows weary.

2 Corinthians 12:9

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Ours is not a culture that is comfortable with weakness. This is true of many cultures around the world, of course, but as Americans, it’s kind of our brand. If you’re not sure if you agree, just pay attention this weekend to the ways we celebrate Independence Day. Strength is a big part of our national identity, and it has shaped us as individuals more than we sometimes realize.

To begin with, we are never quite sure how to respond to the weakness of others. When someone casually asks, “How are you?” as a kind of greeting, have you ever answered the question honestly? “Actually, I’m having a rough day, and my back hurts, and I yelled at my kids this morning.” Chances are this answer would be met with wide-eyed silence followed by a stuttered awkward apology and an excuse for a quick exit. Usually it’s better to stick with “Great, thanks. How are you?” 

Uncertainty and discomfort in the face of weaknesses and need is what causes us to look away and ignore the man on the street who’s asking for money, to silently judge the purchases of the woman in front of us in the grocery checkout line who is paying with food stamps, or, dare I say, find reasons to be angry with members of an oppressed people group seeking justice in a public demonstration. 

The deeper issue, though, is my discomfort with my own weaknesses, which often borders on denial that these weaknesses even exist. You know that question at every job interview when they ask about your weaknesses? We’ve all been coached to answer that in a way that turns even our weaknesses into strengths. “My weakness is that I work too hard and I don’t know when to stop and take a break.” I wonder if we haven’t gotten so good at selling that that we’ve bought into it ourselves. 

Sure, I have weaknesses – but they’re not so bad really and you could even look at them as strengths. This is not what Paul meant when he wrote about boasting in our weaknesses:

Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:8-10)

I come back to this passage over and over again. Words like boast gladly and delight are not words I would naturally use to describe my weaknesses. If I’m truly honest, I despise my weaknesses. They offend my pride and force me to acknowledge that I am not sufficient on my own. 

I love Jesus, but I don’t want to need him.

I would like to keep Jesus as an accessory rather than the main thing. I prefer to keep Jesus in a drawer and pull him out for the big stuff, like an illness or a natural disaster or something that I obviously can’t do anything about on my own. But for the everyday stuff, I would prefer to be self-sufficient, thank you very much. Doing it on my own – that’s what I can boast gladly over. I delight in my own abilities and stubborn determination. 

Then I get in over my head. I am not meant to pursue the life God has called me to on the strength of my own power and abilities, so every time I try I will find myself drowning. My pride needs to be put to death over and over and over again. Not only is his grace sufficient, but his power is made perfect in my weakness. In the upside-down Kingdom of God, I am strongest when I am able to accept just how weak I am, because it is then that he does his work in and through me. 

In a season of hardships and difficulties, it is time to stop resisting and avoiding them and learn to delight in them – for the joy of seeing what Christ will do.

Mark 7:15

“There is nothing outside a person that by going into him can defile him, but the things that come out of a person are what defile him.”

Can you remember a time when you were more aware of the spread of germs than you have been in the last several months? Things that we didn’t give much thought to before – handshakes, door knobs, shopping carts – no longer seem so innocent. This virus is very contagious, but we know how to lower our risk of being infected. Washing our hands often and for a full 20 seconds, wearing a mask in public, and staying home more are all ways to help protect ourselves and others. Flatten the curve, social distancing… we know the routine by now. And if we somehow manage to forget, the reminders are posted everywhere. From the door of the grocery store to signs on the highway. Even the kids get reminders from Baby Shark before streaming a PBS show on Prime Video. Wash your hands, doo doo doo doo doo doo.  

In reality, there has always been a risk of contracting a virus from touching a door knob. We were simply willing to take our chances with catching a cold as we went about our lives. Most of us succumb to a few each year, and it’s annoying and uncomfortable, but something we accept as a normal part of being human. So the difference lies in how we perceive the danger of this particular virus, not only to ourselves but to the people around us. When something is this dangerous and this contagious, the whole world takes notice and does whatever is necessary to stop it. Right?

Maybe not. 

The Pharisees that Jesus met in Mark 7 were pretty concerned about hand washing too. They had no concept of germ theory and had never heard of a virus, but they were well acquainted with the idea of contamination. In their tradition, certain things would defile you and there were specific rituals for becoming ceremonially clean again. So when they noticed that Jesus’ disciples weren’t following their rules, they confronted Jesus about it. Jesus responded that they were a little too focused on what was coming into them and not concerned enough about what was coming out. 

The disciples were confused about this little scene, so they asked him about it later. Jesus explained to them what they should watch out for:

He went on: “What comes out of a person is what defiles them. For it is from within, out of a person’s heart, that evil thoughts come—sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and defile a person.” (Mark 7:20-23)

Has anyone else noticed that most of the things on this list are getting pretty free rein lately? In the media, from our political leaders, from our faith leaders, from our friends on social media, and dare I say, from my own heart? My hands are not clean.

I don’t mean to suggest that any of these things are new. Jesus was pointing them out 2,000 years ago, and they weren’t new then either. Sin is sin, and human beings have always struggled with these things. But sin is also contagious. We have spent so much energy in this season defending ourselves from the external threats around us that our defenses seem to be down when it comes to the threats from within. Or perhaps we simply don’t understand how dangerous these threats really are. 

Several of my friends have posted on social media lately with similar sentiments: I am free to post whatever I want on my social media feeds and if you don’t like it you can either scroll past it or unfollow me. This is true of course, but I think that Paul would write to us what he wrote to the Corinthians:

“I have the right to do anything,” you say—but not everything is beneficial. “I have the right to do anything”—but not everything is constructive. No one should seek their own good, but the good of others. (1 Corinthians 10:23-24)

Harsh words are contagious. Slander is contagious. False ideas are contagious. Arrogance and folly are definitely contagious. If those are the things coming out of us right now, maybe we need to take precautions to avoid spreading them, such as staying off of social media or venting those things in a journal that no one else will read. Just like we wear masks primarily to protect the people around us from any germs that we may have, maybe we need some masks and social distancing to while God helps us sort out some of our current struggles. Ultimately he is the only one that can heal this disease that we each have inside of us.

The good news is that positive things can also be contagious. Encouragement is contagious. Beauty and truth are contagious. Humility and wisdom are also contagious. We have the opportunity to spread these things in our own circles of influence and watch them widen like ripples on a pond. May the followers of Jesus Christ be known for elevating the tone of our discourse and for our willingness to give up our rights for the benefit of others. And may it bring glory to God.

Mark 10:14-15

“Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.”

We visited the Grand Canyon when Emelie was 3 and Peter was 11 months old. I had never been there before, and I had always wanted to go. I remember being filled with awe at that first sight of the canyon – the enormity of it and the way the colors shifted in the changing sun angles. Pictures can never do it justice because a picture can’t give you the feeling of being there. 

If I’m honest, though, the feeling I remember most from those few days at the Grand Canyon is fear. Little Peter didn’t walk yet and sat happily in a stroller or a hiking backpack most of the time. Emelie, on the other hand, was very physical in expressing her joy at the beauty of this place. She wanted to get right up close to it at every chance she got. She was completely fearless at that age and at times I was honestly not sure she would survive that trip. I just couldn’t relax and enjoy myself. I was so grumpy (and one of the days I split my new hiking pants and spent the whole day with my jacket tied around my waist, but that’s another story). My memories of the Grand Canyon are completely overshadowed by that fear.

I kept trying to make her understand the dangers of going too close to the edge. I tried to convince her to enjoy it from a safe distance. She would have none of it. The beauty of it called to her and she made no effort to resist it. We hiked a trail along the rim. At the edge of the trail, a stone wall that was about 3 feet high protected hikers from slipping down over the edge of a drop-off and also helped prevent the trail from eroding. Emelie insisted on walking on top of that wall. At first we let her, when there wasn’t much drop on the other side. As it grew steeper, however, I wanted her down. She held my hand and said, “I can’t fall Mamma! You are holding me!” 

For nearly 8 years, this has been my image of what child-like faith and trust looks like. 

We both knew that if she slipped up there, I would do everything in my power to keep her from falling. She trusted that that would be enough, and I knew it might not be. My hand was getting sweaty from holding hers for so long – she could just slip away from me in a second. So she had no fear and I had nothing but fear.

But when I read Jesus’ words about receiving the Kingdom like a little child, I picture receiving the Grand Canyon like a fearless 3-year-old. Can I approach the Kingdom like an encounter with something so beautiful that I’m willing to throw myself off a precipice to be a part of it? Does it call to me, drawing me ever closer? Am I hanging over the railing longing for more?

Or am I happy to enjoy the view from a safe distance? Do I hold it at arm’s length and see only the dangers? Am I willing to let my fears spoil the experience of something that deep down I am longing for?

It is hard to approach the Kingdom like a child. When God is calling me to walk the beautiful trail along the rim, too often I’m content to walk on the road instead. The road will lead me to the same destination eventually, but I miss so much beauty along the way. It’s safer on the road, so I’m content to only catch glimpses of the spectacular view between the trees. The trees that feel like they’re protecting me are actually blocking me from experiencing the fullness of where I am. God seeks me out from my hiding places and reminds me that he will hold my hand on the trail. 

Courage, my child. I am here. Come walk with me.

When I watch my kids I notice that their response to fear depends less on their circumstances than on who is with them. Last summer, a dog knocked Micah down on the beach and ate his snack, so now Micah is pretty shy of big dogs. But when he sees a dog, he doesn’t run away from the dog, he runs to me or Staffan. He wants to be with us, even if where we are is right next to the dog.

We are free to hide from our fears and turn down Jesus’ invitation to experience more of his Kingdom with a child-like trust. He won’t force us to leave the security of the treeline. But prioritizing safety in God’s Kingdom is like driving to the Grand Canyon but refusing to get out of the car in the parking lot. You’re there, but have you really experienced it?

I want to hold God’s hand and walk on the wall. Who’s with me?