Hear, O Lord, when I cry aloud,
be gracious to me and answer me!
“Come,” my heart says, “seek his face!”
Your face, Lord, do I seek.
Do not hide your face from me.
Do not turn your servant away in anger,
you who have been my help.
Do not cast me off, do not forsake me,
O God of my salvation!
If my father and mother forsake me,
the Lord will take me up. …
I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
Wait for the Lord;
be strong, and let your heart take courage;
wait for the Lord!
–Psalm 27:7-10, 13-14 NRSV
Greetings to you and peace from God our Father, the Lord Jesus Christ, and the Abiding Holy Spirit.
We just heard in Psalm 27: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” More than we would like to admit, being the church, being a follower of Christ means that we are tasked with waiting. Waiting for God to come, for God to show Their face. For Christ to return to us. For Jesus to act. For the Holy Spirit to move.
We don’t like to admit that we, as a church, are called to wait because it feels so useless. What good does waiting do, but waste time and opportunities?
In our relationships, we spend large blocks of time waiting until we are able to return to each other once more. Good friends who live across the country that we see maybe once every year or two. College students returning home for break. The anticipation of a date night or family dinner.
In fact, the more important the relationship, the more poignantly we feel the wait. I watched a Youtube video once that calculated how much time children spend with their parents throughout their whole lives (presumably, in Western societies), and it estimated that by the time a child has turned 20 that they have spent roughly 90% of the time that they will ever spend with their parents already. And yet, many parents and children are still deeply connected to each other through the later years of their lives. Much of that connection is held together by waiting: waiting for the next holiday or family reunion or phone call. How meaningful that reunion is depends a lot on what the two people have been doing with their waiting. Parents and children get some space from each other so that they, together and apart, can experience the world more broadly.
Waiting also reminds me of one of my favorite books, The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, which tells the story of a woman who is married to a man with a temporal disorder. He is not properly anchored to his spot in time and can suddenly disappear as he travels somewhere and somewhen else. Through the fantastical idea of uncontrollable time travel, the book explored the tension between togetherness and waiting that shows up in all relationships. Even though this couple was fictional, the hardships that they faced in their marriage were surprisingly relatable. They missed each other in the busyness of their work-a-day lives, just as normal married couples do. I left my home this morning and will only get to see my husband for a couple hours today. We will go to sleep and then we will both leave again to go to work until we’re reunited again for brief moments Thursday evening and Friday morning. A huge piece of what makes a marriage work, including my own, is how well you can wait for each other until you are together again.
The same is true for God.
No matter what kind of pain or suffering or heartache has brought you here today, I think it is safe to say that we are all waiting on God in some way to act. To appear. To comfort us with God’s presence. To make it make sense. But I don’t want you to think that because you are waiting, that God has neglected you or rejected you. No, in fact, it means the opposite: you are waiting because God has already claimed you as God’s own, made commitments to care for you, and loves you wholeheartedly. The waiting, the missing, the longing for God to show up is a sign of the deep connection between the two of you. You are not forgotten – you are remembered every moment of every day. As the psalmist assures us, even when we lose the safety and support of our closest and most intimate relationships, God will help us. God will draw us in and keep us close.
In your grief, may you see the face of God and know that you are and have been and will be sheltered within God’s own house.
In your grief, may you wait on the goodness of God. Amen.
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