Thoughts from the waiting room
We sat together in the hospital waiting room this week. Waiting on progress reports from the surgeons. Waiting for any kind of news. Waiting. And it occurred to me that most of us hate the waiting room.
We avoid the waiting room. Because, well, we don’t like waiting. We want things to happen sooner. Now, preferably. The irony wasn’t lost on me as I sat there with family members who like to get things done, who like action, who like going places. And we were all waiting.
Waiting reminds us that we’re not in control. It reminds us that there are forces we can’t understand. It reminds us of our creatureliness. Because of this, the finest feature of the waiting room is that it forces us to pray. To turn our attention toward the Creator. To be reminded that we do, in fact, have a loving and all-powerful heavenly Father. To take our eyes off the present (and the mundane?) and be reminded that something bigger than me, something bigger than us is taking place. Waiting can be instrumental in restoring us to a flourishing “Creator-created” relationship.
There’s no better time of year for this either. The arrival of Messiah was the culmination of centuries spent in the waiting room. The waiting room of earth was finally filled with the joyous sounds of a newborn King. Tears of joy. Shouts of excitement. “For unto us a child is born, unto us a Son is given.” Simeon was “waiting for the consolation of Israel.” (Luke 2:25) And from the waiting room he uttered this words:
My eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all nations: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and the glory of your people Israel. (Luke 2:31-32)
You may be stuck in a waiting room in some area of life. But Christmas is the annual reminder that the wait is over. So this week, let the joyful noise from your waiting room fill your life.