The Waiting Place

You can get so confused
that you’ll start in to race
down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles cross weirdish wild space,
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place...

...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or the waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for the wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.
— Dr. Suess - "Oh, The Places You'll Go!"

Dr. Seuss's "Oh, The Places You'll Go!," which describes the twists and turns of life's journey, is so insightful. (I've linked to the whole thing here.) There's one stop on the journey I want to talk about today. It's the portion I excerpted above that describes that dreaded, "most useless" place — The Waiting Place.

Waiting can certainly feel useless, can't it? During long periods of waiting, not much seems to be going on in the way of our deliverance. Everything comes to a standstill in our world, and yet the world around us keeps moving on. The blessed keep getting more blessed, but we remain stuck.

That's how it can feel, can't it? But it's not true.

Everyone goes through seasons of waiting, and waiting on God is anything but useless. In fact, it's probably one of the most character-building experiences we can go through in this life. But how we wait is what will determine how peaceful or miserable our stay in The Waiting Place will be.


One of my favorite Scripture passages comes from Lamentations 3: "The Lord is good to those who wait for Him, to the person who seeks Him. It is good to wait quietly for deliverance from the Lord" (vv. 25-26). The Hebrew word translated as "wait" in verse 25 means 3 things in addition to waiting. It means "to expect, to look for, to hope."

These 3 verbs (expect, look, hope) show action on our part. So one thing waiting on the Lord doesn't mean is resignation: "Well, clearly God isn't going to give me what I'm asking for, so He can just do whatever He wants." Or, "I've been hoping for this for so long and still nothing. I need to stop hoping altogether so I don't get hurt even more." Resignation is what happens when someone gives up, but giving up is not an option for the one who actively waits on the Lord.

Instead, the waiting one should be like Habakkuk, who said, "I will climb up to my watchtower and stand at my guardpost. There I will wait to see what the Lord says and how he will answer my complaint" (2:1). Habakkuk wasted no time in climbing to the top of the watchtower to see how God would answer. He knew it was a matter of when, not if.

Each day as we pray for whatever it is we are waiting for, we should "bring [our] requests to [the Lord]," climb the watchtower to look for His answer, and "wait expectantly" (Psalm 5:3). We aren't waiting well if we aren't waiting with expectation, looking eagerly in the distance to see when and how God is going to answer our request.

In fact, biblical waiting requires expectation — if it doesn't have that, then it's resignation, not waiting.

Photo by ipopba/iStock / Getty Images
Photo by ipopba/iStock / Getty Images

And here's where hope comes in. Hope is what causes us to wait with expectation, to look eagerly — excitedly — on our watchtowers to see how God will answer us.

"Hope is a waking dream," as Aristotle put it. It's that wonderful feeling when you're wide awake that anything is possible. That sounds like wishful thinking to the one who has suffered disappointment, doesn't it? Like the voice of someone who hasn't been kicked around enough by life. Why would I keep hoping when my dreams have been dashed over and over again? we might think. I'm not a glutton for punishment you know! And on the surface this line of thinking sounds reasonable ... even responsible and practical.

But the funny thing about hope — biblical hope, which is real hope — is that it's actually birthed out of suffering and disappointment: "But we also rejoice in our afflictions, because we know that affliction produces endurance, endurance produces proven character, and proven character produces hope" (Romans 5:3-4). Suffering, in the end, produces hope. Naive, wishful thinking that hasn't gone through the furnace of affliction, then, isn't hope at all — it's just wishful thinking, and will remain so until it is sanctified.

But the hope produced in the furnace of affliction is a sanctified hope, a hope that the Lord Himself has placed in the heart of the one afflicted. It's a confidence that emerges from a trial and says, "I know the one in whom I have placed my confidence, and I am perfectly certain that the work he has committed to me is safe in his hands" (2 Tim. 1:12). In the furnace — in The Waiting Place — where we are tempted to give up hope, God is actually working hope in us for the future He has planned for us (which might be very different from the future we have planned for ourselves).

It sounds so backwards, but suffering, waiting, and disappointment are all necessary for hope to grow.


Although sometimes it can feel like the waiting will never end, it will. As Dr. Seuss went on to write, "Somehow you'll escape all that waiting and staying. You'll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing." Look for those "bright places," expectant and hopeful that your good Father "is able to do far more than we ever dare to ask or imagine" (Eph. 3:20). God has things up His sleeve so amazing that they exceed even our wildest imaginings.

If you're in The Waiting Place, I pray that the Lord does His work in you so you can emerge filled with hope, saying, "I know the one in whom I have placed my confidence, and I am perfectly certain that the work he has committed to me is safe in his hands" (2 Tim. 1:12).


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Trying to Make Sense of Suffering

It's tempting during times of intense trial to believe that we're suffering because we made a mistake or did something to anger God. I'm not talking about blatant disobedience. Disobedience always leads to suffering, but suffering isn't always a result of disobedience (Peter makes the distinction between suffering justly and unjustly in 1 Peter 3). I'm talking about that sinking feeling you get when tragedy strikes and you think, God must be out to get me.

While we may feel like God is angry at us in seasons of suffering, it's not true. In Philippians 1:29, Paul says, "For you have been given not only the privilege of trusting in Christ but also the privilege of suffering for him." According to Paul, suffering for Christ isn't a form of punishment doled out by an angry God; rather, suffering is a gift and a privilege.

David was a man who knew great suffering. If anyone were tempted to feel like a pawn in a cruel cosmic game, it was him. In 1 Samuel 23, David was on the run from Saul, the maniacal king who sought to kill him, and he was hiding in Philistine territory. Saul found out his location, so David immediately went to God in prayer and asked Him two questions:

1) Will Saul really try to capture me?
2) If he does, will the citizens of the town hand me over to him?

God answered yes to both questions, so David and his army of delinquent men had to flee once again.

By this point, Samuel had already anointed David as king - how then did David end up as a desert fugitive? It’s easy to assume that David's hardship was the result of God's abandoning him or punishing him - Did David do something wrong? Did God forget about Him? Did God change His mind about making David king? But verse 14 lets the reader know that God Himself was the reason David was in the desert in the first place, and He had a good purpose in it. "David stayed in the wilderness strongholds and in the hills of the Desert of Ziph. Day after day Saul searched for him, but God did not give David into his hands" (NIV, author's emphasis). God didn't protect David from suffering, but He guided him through it. And nothing happened to David that wasn't part of God's good plan.

We don't know all of the reasons why God had David in the desert for over a decade before he finally became king. But we do know what the Bible says about why we suffer. The primary reason is our holiness - to transform us into the image of Jesus. A secondary reason is to prepare us for what God has next. David's days in the desert made Him one of the most humble, God-fearing kings Israel ever knew. He wasn't perfect, but he was a man who knew the Lord intimately and trusted Him. David's time in the desert prepared him for kingship.

If we look back over our lives, we can likely see how God used our suffering as part of our story of redemption, too. As the saying goes, God turns our misery into our ministry. Our job is not to understand the why of our misery; our job is to trust the Who behind it. God's understanding is so much greater than our own, and as we learn to lean on His goodness and sovereignty in our suffering, we'll rest in the fact that He will bring beauty out of the ashes of our lives, just as He promises. God doesn't make mistakes. And if He captures every tear we shed and places them in His bottle (Psalm 56:8), we can be certain that none of our pain is wasted. Every bit of it has purpose, even if we can't always see it.

"The Lord is near the brokenhearted; He saves those crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:18).

"The Lord is near the brokenhearted; He saves those crushed in spirit" (Psalm 34:18).

I love what Tim Keller says: "If we knew what God knows, we would ask exactly for what he gives," including the suffering He metes out. This statement is absolutely true, but it's hard to see it's truth when something happens that seems like a mistake or a cruel act of God. For me and Matt, that was Matt's job loss back in November and the heartbreaking ripple effects that have ensued. Nothing about it made sense or seemed to have any good purpose. It just seemed cruel. The Devil tried to convince us that this time was different - God wasn't going to come through for us like He had in the past. It was a battle to fight the enemy's lies, and it still is to some extent since we're not completely out of the weeds yet.

In a particularly dark time for us a couple months ago, a pastor's wife said to me, "It might be hard to believe that God has ordained this season of suffering in His kindness, but He has."

God's kindness has brought about this suffering.

That truth has brought me through some really hard days. Suffering seems so cruel, so unkind, but we only see a tiny piece of the whole picture. As Elisabeth Elliot says,

Our vision is so limited we can hardly imagine a love that does not show itself in protection from suffering. The love of God is of a different nature altogether. It does not hate tragedy. It never denies reality. It stands in the very teeth of suffering. The love of God did not protect His own Son. The cross was the proof of His love – that He gave that Son, that He let Him go to Calvary’s cross, though ‘legions of angels’ might have rescued Him. He will not necessarily protect us - not from anything it takes to make us like His Son. A lot of hammering and chiseling and purifying by fire will have to go into the process.

How about if we viewed the suffering we're experiencing as a gift, straight from the hands of a loving and kind Father? How might that change the way we walk through this season?


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