Everyone is waiting

My lovely friend Tanya Marlow has a new book out: Those Who Wait: Finding God in Disappointment, Doubt and Delay. Her first book, Coming Back to God When You Feel Empty, was a thought-provoking study on the book of Ruth, centering on the experiences of the main characters, Ruth and Naomi. Tanya’s writing is excellent – clear, honest and insightful – so I’m looking forward to reading the new book, in which she says we “enter into the minds of four ordinary saints who had to wait”. I’ve also heard it’s “Beautiful, helpful and, most of all, encouraging” and “creative, engaging and timely”. Sounds good to me.

Tanya knows a bit about waiting. She has suffered from ME for several years and experienced all the frustration, longing, hope, and disappointment that goes with chronic illness.

My blog post today is part of the synchroblog on waiting, to celebrate the release of Those Who Wait: Finding God in Disappointment, Doubt and Delay. See more here and link up to the synchroblog here.

When I saw Tanya’s announcement about the synchroblog, my second question (after wondering what on earth a synchroblog was) was whether I would have time this week to write a whole blog post.

The answers: first, a synchroblog is when lots of people write blog posts on the same theme and link them all up, and second, no, I didn’t have time.

But Tanya herself had written a poem, and that reminded me about a poem I wrote a few years ago. It’s about waiting for God to reveal himself, wondering if I was doing the right things or waiting in the right way. So here it is, as my contribution (three days late, but some things are worth waiting for, right?):

Waiting

In the silence I believe;
by faith I hold on.
I wait to receive
but my strength is near gone.

I need nothing less
than your living word.
Could I look somewhere else?
No – there’s no other God.

I can’t turn away,
So I stare at the cloud.
Will love find a way?
Am I just too proud

to see into the place
where your glory hides?
Will you show me your face
if I humble my pride?

I long for this
(as I look for dawn’s light):
To be waked with a kiss
from this soul’s long, dark night.

 

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