I still live here. This was definitely not the plan. This was supposed to be a quick stop on the way to my fourth, and sadly, not final move. If you have have been following me, you know that we have been moving—let’s just say—a lot. Guess what I don’t like? Moving! We are now basically serial movers. Honestly, if I had known this would be my life this last year, I don’t think I could have faced it. We are currently living in a tiny cottage; seriously, my step-mom built me a bigger dollhouse when I was a kid.

We were only supposed to live in the little minimalistic abode over the summer. I thought, this will be challenging, but I can do it. I would think of it like a vacation rental. We will mostly live outside anyway, so the yard will essentially be my living room. I can do this. We put almost everything we own in storage. No big deal, because once again, it’s only for the summer (perhaps into the fall); what do we need beside beach attire and my three favorite coffee mugs? I vowed to be content wearing the same outfits and writing in one journal.

What I thought would just be a season of waiting has turned into a year of longing.

What I assumed was a short layover has morphed into an extended period. Are you in a place of prolonged waiting? Did you think by now you would have moved out of your hometown or met the right person? Perhaps you planned for your business to be profitable by this point or that behavior issue with your child to have worked itself out. Maybe you are surprised by an on-going health issue or wondering why things don’t seem to be getting better in your marriage, even after counseling.

It’s one thing to go through a hardship, but it’s a whole ‘nother thing for that trial to linger on. Yikes! Have you ever gotten the hiccups for a prolonged time? At first you think, okay, it’s just the hiccups. I’ll just hold my breath a minute and it will be better; but, if they stick around it starts to get weird. You start to wonder if you will ever not have the hiccups.

Have you started to wonder if you will ever not have to wait for this season of trials to be over?

As you now know, I don’t like moving. Guess what else I don’t like? Waiting. It’s hard enough to wait for something good, like a package in the mail or a weekend trip, but waiting for something bad to be over? Sigh! That’s a different type of waiting. How long? Will this ever end?

We live in a age of impatience. We expect things to happen quickly, in fact, we need them to happen quickly. We have places to be and things to do. I went through a coffee drive-thru yesterday, and I thought I had plenty of time before school pickup. It was so slow, I barely made it in time. I had expectations of how long this coffee run should take and felt frustrated and annoyed when I found myself waiting at the window while the clock ticked down.

How often do we feel this way about our prayers? We place our order into the speaker and pull up to the window ready to be handed a lovely cup of answered prayer. Instead, we find ourselves sighing loudly when no one hands us our order. How long is this going to take? I have decisions to make, places to be; I can’t sit here all day. All week. All year.

Yet, waiting is so often an essential ingredient in life.

We wait for . . .

The bread to rise.

The wine to age.

The fruit to ripen.

What are we to be doing in the waiting?

Why does God still have me here? Or why am I here, again? Yet, there are so many rich lessons in the waiting. The biggest one is learning to rely on the Lord in all things. Do I trust Him to sustain me in the desert? There are many wilderness stories in the Bible. The Israelites wandered around the barren sandy wasteland for 40 years with only God to rely on for their every need. They (like me) tended toward grumbling and murmuring. They missed the lesson of learning to rely on the Lord, trusting He would meet their needs (not their wants—I mean, I love cucumber and leeks, too!). My needs are also met in the tiny cottage; do I want a place big enough to store cucumbers and leeks? Yes. But do it need it? Well, no. Do I want to complain about my cramped quarters? Again, the answer is yes. But should I? No.

Is there a lesson for you in your time of waiting?

Another flower in the desert is learning to be content in all seasons of life. Paul had much and he had little and yet he looked to his Saviour to provide in season and out. James tells us to take it even a step further and be joyful in all things. I mean come on? Content, maybe . . . on a good day, if I got enough sleep. But Joyful? Like I should be joyful that I live in a cramped house with a broken heater and washer? Seems like a stretch. We should be joyful when sickness is in our homes? When stife is in our relationships? When we are betrayed and hurt and let down? This can’t be a real ask, can it?

As it turns out, I have looked at this wrong my whole life. We aren’t to be joyful because these awful things are happening, that would be silly. We are to be joyful because of what they teach us. Dark times teach us to look towards the real light, not just for the healing or the fixing or the restoration or the justification, but for our only real and true joy. The answers to those problems are only shadows of joy. Sure, we fixed the heater and washer and life was considerably better or perhaps I should say, I was able to find contentment in having these things fixed vs. broken. But the real joy is only in what these hard moments teach our soul.

unanswered prayers — flower in the desert

Through the trying of our faith, we learn patience, which having its perfect work, you will want for nothing, according to James. And, “More than that, we rejoice in our suffering, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Rom 5:3-5) We do not delight in the trial, but in the result it could produce in us, if we let the the Holy Spirit have His perfect work.

In our suffering we wait for . . .

Endurance—so we can finish the race set before us.

Character—so we are of a quality to be used for the Lord’s good purpose.

Hope in God—the only hope we have in a fallen world.

Nobody wants unripen fruit or doughy bread; these things are only valuable in their possibilities. After fruit abides on the vine through fair and foul weather, it is sweet and overflowing with goodness (Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Ps 34:8). We don’t set a pan of dough on a sunny windowsill and hope it will bake. We shut it in an oven of immense heat and pull it out golden and crispy, ready to nourish those at the table. Christ’s own body was the bread and His shed blood was the wine, offered on our behalf. Our Lord abided on the vine (waiting) for the Father to mature Him in His flesh from babe to man, until the time of his ministry and ultimate sacrifice. He was our perfect hope, steadfast and sure. Because He endured the oven of affliction (crucifixion), the bread broken (His body) was the final and complete atonement, accepted in our place.

One thing I dreaded about staying the winter in the tiny cottage was that all the lush trees that kept it private and tucked away, like an oasis in the summer, would fall barren, making it feel exposed and ugly. One morning, I sat at my little kitchen window and felt the sun on my face. It took me a minute to realize why this had never happened before. I always sit at this little spot in the morning to do my Bible reading and had yet to see a sunrise. It hit me that it was the barrenness of the season that allowed for the rays of sun to come through the trees. All those lush leaves had fully blocked the sunrise from me in the summer months. That night, I stood at my living room window and realized I could also see the most amazing sunsets over Lake Michigan—all in this season of lack.

What is your time of character building allowing you to see that you would have otherwise missed? The kindness of others, perhaps? What is your endurance training showing you? A chance to help others in ways your never could have before? Is your trial producing hope or bitterness? Joy or sorrow?

Don’t miss the blessing in the trial—the growth is in the waiting; the joy is in the struggles. It is the hope of which we will not be ashamed. God’s love poured into our hearts. The sun through the trees!