"Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, 'This is the way; walk in it.'" Isaiah 30:21 (NIV)
Last week, I had one of those rainy days that consisted of me taking an entire tea pot of hot water to my room to consume it one tea bag at a time while I finished revising a poem I was working on. After I was finally satisfied with my attempt at poetry, I listened to Tal and Acacia’s “Drifting Away” about a million times as I played Mahjong tiles on my laptop. Not a bad day, but mostly a neutral day. Eight cups of tea and an entire package of Ritz crackers at least made it peaceful.
Life has been in sort of a drifting state for me lately; peaceful with many happy moments, but seeming to lack a general direction. Of course, because God is God, I know that my life really isn’t without direction; it is just that the direction is hidden from me at the moment.
It is kind-of like God is blind-folding me. At first, this sensation of being cut off from a clear direction made me fight against God. Who really likes being put into a completely dependent situation? I was and still am in the dark about what my future holds. But during one of those lucid moments when I actually bothered to be quiet and listen to God, my perception of my position changed (or rather, God changed my perception). Instead of viewing it as struggle against the darkness, God gave me the image of a father covering his daughters’ eyes. When the time was right, the father would lift his hands and surprise his daughter with everything he had been saving for her.
If we always knew what was coming, would we appreciate it as much? And if we were always in the light, how would we know that God can be trusted in the dark places? This applies to pretty much everything in my life right now: my singleness, my pursuit of a college degree, the fact that I am unable to get a job…the list goes on. Elisabeth Elliot described this in her book Passion and Purity when she said:
“Our vision is so limited we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in protection from suffering. The love of God is of a different nature altogether. It does not hate tragedy. It never denies reality. It stands in the very teeth of suffering. The love of God did not protect His own Son. That was the proof of His love-that He gave that Son, that He let Him go to Calvary’s cross, though “legions of angels’ might have rescued Him. He will not necessarily protect us-not from anything it takes to make us like His Son. A lot of hammering and chiseling and purifying by fire will have to go into the process.”*
Even though I cannot honestly say that I am “suffering” right now, the sentiment still holds true. But being in a dark place does not always have to be sorrowful. Instead, it can be filled with a wonderful sense of peace that God is with us in our waiting times. Our Father has cared enough to allow us to suffer a little so that we might trust Him better and appreciate the things He has in store for us when they come.
It is my intention that this will be what the Knot List is all about, making waiting something to be cherished instead of something to be scorned.
*Elisabeth Elliot, Passion and Purity (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Fleming H. Revell, 2002), 85.
