This is nothing new. Nothing that hasn’t already been said a thousand times before. Nonetheless, I’d like to share a bit of my experience with wanting and waiting…
For almost as long as I can remember, I’ve been fascinated by countries and cultures. I remember as a small girl playing with a globe, spinning it over and over trying to find new countries, all the countries, and wondering about the people there. I was still fairly young when I realized God had placed a passion for the nations in my heart and began to think, wonder, hope that passion might translate into becoming a missionary.
As a twelve year old kid, it’s pretty obvious you have to wait for the fulfillment of some dreams. Moving to a foreign country definitely falls into that category. So as I waited I tried to learn as much as I could about countries, the problems facing other people groups, missionaries, organizations. And as often as I could, I would go. Anywhere and everywhere, just as long as I was going. Going satisfied the wanting just enough to ease the waiting… for a little while at least.
Fast forward a few years into adulthood and I hit confusion full on. What I had always thought would be and the things I had always planned turned out not to be my reality. Funny thing about life, sometimes those left turns are obscured until we get right at them.
So I embarked on more waiting, all the while still wanting the same things. Knowing this nomadic heart had been called to the nations, but not sure how to move beyond my own backyard.
Then came the moment. The one instant when it became clear. When suddenly my natural self knew what the spirit had known all along. The wanting intensified so I wrongly assumed the waiting would now be brief. Hmm… no such luck.
The calling I had received, the thing I wanted more than anything, required much of me… training, shaping, pruning, reshaping, development, even more reshaping. To submit to that process requires submitting to waiting. So I waited. And every single time I thought I was close to walking through an open door… BAM! Not today.
Until the day the door didn’t close. The day I was faced with a wide open door that was thrilling and terrifying and more than I had ever expected.
So here I am, six weeks away from walking through that open door. As I look back, I realize the waiting hasn’t been so long after all. There has been more joy than frustration. There has been peace through the perseverance.