‘O that I might have my request,
and that God would grant my desire;
that it would please God to crush me,
that he would let loose his hand and cut me off!
This would be my consolation;
I would even exult* in unrelenting pain;
for I have not denied the words of the Holy One.
What is my strength, that I should wait?
And what is my end, that I should be patient?
Is my strength the strength of stones,
or is my flesh bronze?
In truth I have no help in me,
and any resource is driven from me.
There’s old expression about “the patience of Job,” as in, “She must have the patience of Job to live with that old goat!” In the verses above, Job isn’t showing much patience, and I can understand why. Job was righteous and without fault in his trials, yet everything worth clinging to in life was taken from him. He is in grief, sorrow, and unrelenting pain—yet his greatest challenge is waiting on God, who seems to be absent and uncaring. He would rather that God would “crush” him than endure this waiting.
Don’t most of us find waiting to be hard? Whether it is for the birth of a child, the arrival medical test results, the grade on a final exam, the coming of spring, or the removal of stitches; waiting is harder than most other things. Even when what is expected is a bad thing, we’re likely to say, “Let’s just get it over with.”
The season of Advent is a practice of the discipline of waiting, watching and praying. A discipline is a hard thing, from which we gain growth. During Advent, we intentionally wait and practice being still. Christmas can wait, spring can wait—there will be times to break out the trumpets and open all stops on the organ, but let’s leave time to rediscover the exhilaration of expectation. We proclaim in the past, present, and future tense, “Christ was born, Christ is risen, Christ will come again!” Like a dog sitting with a Milk Bone on its nose, waiting is hard, but it’s good training, too.
Have a Blessed Advent Season.