The Straining and the Waiting
I’m sitting outside as I write this. Here in Georgia, Summer takes its time. The trees are still full and strong in stature showing a vibrant green, and the air is still laced with thick humidity.
But every so often, you can catch a glimpse of it. Maybe it’s a quick breeze that carries that distinct, fresh smell of Autumn. Or in the midst of all the green, you spot a young tree who just couldn’t wait any longer and is showing its beginnings of yellows and oranges. Or the slow realization that the day keeps slipping faster and faster away to night. Fall is coming!
There’s just something about transitions that excites me. The beautiful tension of what was and what will be, struggling and straining under all the change that surrounds. It’s a time of waiting, and sometimes of longing.
When I was in Kyrgyzstan in July leading a week of refocus and refreshment for a group of World Racers on their 11 month mission trip, I witnessed a transition that still stays with me today.
I woke up pretty early one morning. This happened frequently during the week as my body was still in the throes of serious jet lag. I grabbed my journal, bible, and pen and walked outside. The valley lay silent in the early morning stillness. No light yet. Like I said it was early, people! I could just make out the path that led around the house and that wrapped around the base of the valley and eventually up past the yurts off in the distance. I found a boulder and climbed up to sit on the top. The perfect spot to journal and be silent before the Lord.
As I waited and invited God to invade my space, I began to notice that morning was approaching. Because of our position in the valley, I could make out the beams of light coming from behind the ridge of the mountain to the East of us. As I turned around, I saw the light pierce the sky and hit the mountain to the West. It was pretty incredibly. Picture a soft yet steady beam of light overhead, but all where you reside still shrouded by the night. When I glanced back to the Eastward mountain, I saw the peak of the ridge straining to hold the light in, all the while seeing more and more beams slowly beginning to make their way around the ridge.
The valley stayed silent, waiting for the dawn to arrive. I shivered. It was cold in the shadow of the mountain. Especially sitting a cold rock. But all across the valley, the air filled with anticipation of what was about to be. Soon the dawn would break, causing a stir of life to everywhere the light invaded. And I got to watch.
It wouldn’t be long now. The tip of the ridge glowed with a white haze. I wanted to jump up and grab the sun from behind the mountain and put it in the sky where it belongs! But the dark outline of the mountain could still be seen against the bright glow of the coming sun. And unlike me, the valley patiently waited, anticipated, and hoped for the presence of the morning.
With all the strength and stability a mountain represents, nothing could stop the light from breaking free off the top of that ridge. And as soon as it cleared, the beam that was at one time was overhead moved directly in my vision, so much so that it blinded me, and I had to look away. Instantly the sun brought warmth, sight, and order. Everything became clear around me, and the wild horses that roam the valley whinnied with welcome.
As much as I loved that moment of breakthrough when light finally skipped off that top the ridge into the valley below, I can’t shake the feeling of being in those moments right before. The waiting, the anticipation, the hoping. I can’t quite explain all that I felt in those moments.
Transitions aren’t easy. Things get missed. Perspectives shift. Old habits can’t look the same. And dang, that’s hard. It takes guts to go head first into a transition. Chances are you’ll probably stumble around in the dark a bit or experience a chill or two. Maybe even become impatient and want to grab the reins yourself. Take those moments in stride, and practice humility. Because when the sun does break through (and it always does, did you know?) you will have learned what it means to wait on the Lord, to anticipate all the He will reveal to you, and to hope with the Lord.
The waiting time in the valley
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing [through the experience of your faith] that by the power of the Holy Spirit you will abound in hope and overflow with confidence in His promises. – Roman 15:13 (Amplified version)
I closed our fiscal year (the end of September) fully funded for this past year working with Adventures in Missions! Thank you!! As we begin our new fiscal year, I’m looking for 3-4 more monthly donors to join my support team! Please let me know if you would like to join me in serving the nations through my job at Adventures.
