On darkness.

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.

~Isaiah 9:2

Waiting.

None of us are very good at it, huh? I know I’m not. I know my kids are not.

Right now we’re at 23 days left. Not until Christmas, until a certain someone’s sixth birthday. Yes, it’s a big deal. No longer will the age fit on one hand.

He’s busting out into boyhood and both-handed age.

Along with the excitement of both-handed age, he’s anticipating a gift. A triple-floor Lego police station he’s been eyeing, drooling over, and praying for for quite a while. Thanks for generous grandparents the said station is already secured and hidden in a closet, waiting to be presented, but Dutch doesn’t know this.

He just knows his birthday’s coming and he is ridiculously loved by grandparents with ample resources: Good things are bound to happen.

This year–for the first time ever in 14 years of reading through the Bible each year–I’ve finished my Bible reading early. This means I have the entire Advent season–Nov 25th-Dec 25th–to slow, see, and savor the watching and waiting for Jesus. So this week I’ve just been meditating on Darkness.

When I think of seasons of my life that have been most dark, I think of seasons of waiting. Times of waiting, agonizing waiting, when nothing seemed to happen, when God was nowhere to be found. When I didn’t hear anything from Him, see ay of His movements, when I saw no answers to prayer. When it was just silent, still, darkness.

Israel experienced this for 400 years.

Between the Old Testament’s end and the New Testament’s beginning, 400 years of darkness elapsed.

Four-hundred years of darkness. Watching, waiting. Stillness, silence.

The entire earth held its breath.

Is it bad that my first thought is, “Oh I’m so glad I wasn’t born during that time!” It would be stinkin’ HARD to watch and wait for that long. To hear nothing. To see nothing. To just hold onto hope, trusting, trusting, trusting, trusting, year after year after year, your whole life. Generation after generation would pass along this hope, this waiting, waiting, waiting, hoping against all hope that the God of Israel had not forgotten them, but that He would do good on His promise and send Salvation.

They had no idea what this Salvation would look like, But they knew they were ridiculously loved by a God with ample resources: Good things were bound to happen.

In relation to this, my aching and waiting seems small. It is small. My waiting for a Publisher, my waiting for certain healing and transformation to take place in the lives of those I love. My waiting for answers to long-prayed prayers.

Sometimes it feels like weeks–months even–go by with nothing. Darkness. Stillness. Silence. And truth be told, I have no idea what my “answered” prayers may look like,

but I know I am ridiculously loved by a God with ample resources: Good things are bound to happen.

As we consider darkness, and watching and waiting for Christ, consider where else you are in”darkness” right now. Where else are you watching and waiting? Where else feels still, silent? Hoping for a baby? The return of a prodigal? The answer to that long-prayed prayer?

You are ridiculously loved by a God with ample resources: Good things are bound to happen.

~

{Just praying you know His love today. Watching and waiting, with you. Thanks for reading.}