Seconds seems like hours. Minutes pass like days. When someone who is so much a part of yourself is hurting, time goes so slowly. My heart aches. Prayers sometimes seem to be the most powerful thing in the world and in the next moment, I feel like they bounce back into my face like a really bad version of Pong. My soul can’t rest. I’ve tried distracting myself. I’ve tried checking my email approximately 72 times in a period of 5 minutes wondering if maybe I’ll get one that makes a difference. Maybe they’ll be okay. Maybe it will be better. Maybe God will have shown up in their lives and they’ll sit there elated with the fact that He loves them so much that He did… But alas, that email hasn’t come. Not even an email with a dancing hamster that could occupy my mind for a good 2 minutes and 43 seconds.
But this is life. I cannot make up anyone else’s mind. And as much as I have exploding volcanoes implanted within me of realizing how much He adores them and could change their life, I can’t choose for them. And in this moment, with no feedback and no indication and a whole bunch of no information, I have no idea if God is doing anything. It hurts. I want desperately to control this situation. And I swear to you my motives are good. Really good. Like coming from “Jesus changed life in this ridiculously awesome way” good. Like “I just found the fact that I don’t have to be a product of my past and I desperately want that for this person” good. Like “I am still messed up, but I don’t live in the constant hell-hole trap of constantly wondering if I’m good enough and trying to be funny yet not succeeding, trying to find meaning in the empty yet never enough approval of others, I’m free now” good. And I could keep going.
But this one’s out of my hands. This is between them and Him. And I hate it.
I totally wish that clever, here’s the perfect thing to say that changes everything and leads to tears and hand holding and kumbayah-ish feelings marinating in the glow of a campfire (and possibly s’mores) would come. But it hasn’t. There’s no script for this. This isn’t up to me.
And you know what? I’m scared. Really brutally scared. Scared He won’t show up. Like I literally want to do God’s job for Him right now because I think I could do it better-scared. And I’m thinking that’s got to be pretty warped. I’m thinking He knows them better than I know them. I’m thinking He had a pretty large-esque role in the formation of their toes and nose and eyebrows. I’m thinking there hasn’t been a moment that He hasn’t been there, watching them, (kind of like how I watch my kids and can’t speak because I’m so in love with them and a mere word would ruin the joy of watching them in all their beauty) loving them, waiting for them. And I’ve only been in the equation for a few years. I’m thinking He loves them more than I do, even though parts of me would want to wrestle for it. (have a feeling I know who would win. I’m just sayin’) And I’m thinking He’s faithful. I mean – I’m not gonna lie – I don’t always get what He’s doing, I sometimes take issue with what life seems to throw in my face or that of my friends, BUT if I look at the WHOLE of life, I see a whole lot of faithfulness going on. And He did say so Himself. A few times. I’m thinking He’s trustworthy.
So I’m still scared. But I’m starting to realize I probably shouldn’t be. And no matter what this friend comes out deciding or not deciding, I’m still gonna love them. There’s no way I can change that. And I’m betting God will still keep waiting for them, no matter what. And that comforts me. After all, He waited on me.