We’re waiting. We’re waiting for a baby, Joy’s baby, the number 10 grandchild. He (Samuel Jay) should arrive in about two weeks.
Waiting is hard—waiting for a baby, waiting for that deployment to be over, waiting to see if your house has burnt down in the Black Forest fire, as many of our friends are doing this day.
I didn’t walk yesterday; the smoke hugged the streets and settled between houses throughout our part of the city. The smoke plumes are continuous, and when we see a dark plume rising among the white smoke, our hearts sink and one of us says, “That’s a house.” And we wonder: Is it someone we know? We know so many who live in the Black Forest.
I think the hardest part about waiting is not knowing how things will come out. Sometimes it’s good; sometimes it just isn’t. Waiting is like putting all our theology to the practical, day-to-day living test. It’s one thing to say we believe God is in control and that He is good. It’s hard to live that in the waiting. At least it’s hard for me.
I walked today as the southerly winds carried off the smoke and increased the northern evacuation lines, and I thought about all those people waiting—waiting.
Once people know the outcome, they usually figure out how to carry on even in the most terrible circumstances. Secular people might call that the human spirit. I think, though, it’s something designed within us—something not totally lost in the great Fall in the Garden of Eden.
In C. S. Lewis’s Narnia book, the Beaver told the children that Aslan was not a tame lion. We know when we wait that the outcome is a mystery. God is so much higher than us and our world; we can’t always see the logic in His movements. It’s hard to be human and faced with being out of control of our life.
The Beaver did not end his statement there; he said, “but.” BUT—He is good.
We can trust an unpredictable God because He is good.
So, we wait this day. We wait for babies, for deployments to come and to end; we wait for so many things. And one day, when the smoke clears, we will march on. We can march on—regardless—because God is good.
Thank you, C. S. Lewis, for such a picture. I look forward to reading the Narnia books all the grandchildren, even number 10.