Sometimes We Have To Wait

If you’ve ever been to Riverbanks Zoo in Columbia, SC, then you may have noticed that it is directly across the street from the South Carolina Baptist State Convention Building. This is the building that houses SC WMU and greeted me almost every day for three years. There were days that I would arrive at work and hear the siamangs calling to one another. There were other days that I’d visit the zoo during my lunch break, just because I wanted to see the bears—they were my favorite—and that’s how close we were to the zoo.

If you’ve ever been to the zoo, then you know that it is a major attraction for children seeing animals that they’ve read about in books for the first time. You also know that the animals don’t hold children’s attention for very long unless they are doing something other than sleeping—which is very often what animals are doing. One of the things that I learned to do when I worked across the street from the zoo was simply to wait. Since I didn’t have to cram a full zoo tour into one afternoon, I could just stand and watch one particular animal for quite some time. Eventually, they would yawn, stretch, get up and walk around, decide it was time to eat, scratch, turn over, play, swim—something! It’s in the waiting that I became fascinated by the brown bears—and the koala bears—both of which I wish I could snuggle.

So it makes sense that the animals I most wanted to visit during a one hour visit to Riverbanks on Tuesday were the brown bears and the koala bears. The brown bears were awake and active. One of them was hanging out in the pool, playing with in the water. The other was sitting on a rock at first, but then he got up to walk around, roll around, and then plop into the water as well. As always, the brown bears made me smile!

When I got to the koalas, they were asleep. I wasn’t surprised. Koalas usually sleep about 20 hours per day, so to see them awake is a rare treat…but I got to see it! Standing there smelling the fragrance of eucalyptus filling the room, I startled to realize that one of the koalas was waking up! He stretched his little arms and opened his little eyes and then just sat there, straight up, until his keeper came and gave him some medicine. Then he stuck out his little tongue, which was extremely cute, hoping for more medicine, until he decided that it was time to go back to sleep.

Meanwhile, the other koala had woken up, stretched his little arms, decided he was hungry, and walked over to get his dinner. Watching him reach his little hand and grab the branches of eucalyptus leaves was so neat! I’d never seen a koala that awake and active, leaves hanging from his mouth, chowing down…

Friends: There is a lot in this world that I don’t understand. Sometimes it seems that society’s problems and heartaches are so grounded that they will not go away. Sometimes it seems that war, conflict, us-against-them, and other dividing forces are so strong that forces of peace, cooperation, togetherness, and unity-through-diversity can do nothing to make a dent. Sometimes the questions and doubts are so poignant and real that answers and faith cannot be seen. And yet—

Sometimes we just have to wait. Even if all the world keeps going, sometimes we just need to remain in place and believe that something more will come. A little hand will stretch. A little mouth will open. A large body will decide that it’s hot and move toward the water. Something will happen. Energy will shift. And Life will make itself abundantly clear. It’s just that sometimes…

Sometimes we have to wait.

The Waiting

So I’m back in the place where these twice-weekly notes began.
I’m back in the place that seems like a distant reality.
Sometimes I wonder if my time here even happened.
The years came and went so quickly.
Goals realized. Dreams shattered. Purpose redirected. Life forever changed.
It’s been three years since I made the journey back North from South.
It’s been three years since I truly began to actively wait.

I went to the NC Zoo on Tuesday.
On Saturday, I’ll go to Riverbanks on Columbia.
I spent a lot of time with the otter and the bears on Tuesday.
I’ll spend a lot of time with the elephants, siamongs, and bears on Saturday.
I love watching the bears.
I love standing there waiting—
For them to open their eyes, to yawn, to stretch, to scratch, to walk, to swim, to play, to eat.
I love observing their fierce beauty and imagining how it would feel to hug them.
I love seeing children get super excited and adults put words to how the bears must be feeling.
And I love standing there longing than anyone else—
Knowing that the people who stop for only a minute are missing out on the fullness of what they would see—
If they would just wait.

In today’s society, very few of us like to wait.
We want everything and we want it now.
We expect food, results, internet connections, and answers instantaneously and when they don’t come instantaneously we complain.
And yet…
So much of life is in the waiting.
And so much of life’s beauty and lessons are in the same.

When I stand and watch the bears,
Waiting,
I’m not wasting time.
I’m actively observing, paying attention to what’s going on, knowing that more is to come, but okay if nothing different happens than the experience itself.

When I try to discern purpose and call or to dream new dreams,
Waiting,
I’m not wasting time.
I’m actively teaching, giving everything I have to where I am, believing that there may be something different to come, but okay if I’m led nowhere other than to where life catapulted me three years ago.

So I’ll keep on waiting
With the bears and my students and my family and my friends
And I’ll keep on singing with all that I am.
I’ll keep on watching one moment fade into the next
And I’ll keep on praying that God will make God’s presence known.
Goals realized. Dreams shattered. Purpose redirected. Lives changed.
It all happens in the waiting.
From North to South and back again.

Fireflies

Summer 1997. Recreation field at camp. Full moon. Cloudy night. “If I wait long enough, then the clouds will eventually part and I’ll see the moon and it’ll be a wonderful life-parallel to how all murkiness in life will dissipate and God will be clearly seen.” Wait. Wait longer. Wait even longer. Clouds never break. Fireflies appear everywhere. Light pops up everywhere. Reminders of God surround me, in places I cannot predict.

May 20, 2013. Yard-scrap pile in my backyard. Sun setting. Cool evening. “If I keep pulling up this creeper then the plants and trees will be able to breathe again—just like we can breathe again when we work to get rid of the sin that separates us from the fullness of God.” Pull. Pull more. Pull even more. Get to a particularly stubborn root. Watch decaying debris and dirt ride into the air on said root that refuses to come out of the ground. Two fireflies glow. Hatching from larva buried in composting earth. Light shows up. A reminder of God surrounding me, in places I cannot predict.

“Fireflies, fireflies
Rays of hope, short feelings of peace
At the right time they come
To carry us through until the day we see the sun”

Wait and pray.
Wait and pray.
God is in our midst.
Wait and pray.
Show up.
Be present.
Hold to all that is.
Wait and pray.
Wait and pray.
God is in our midst.
Wait and pray.

God makes God’s presence known to us in big ways, yes. In moons and weed removal and miracles and more.

But God is with us in the ordinary, too—in all times and all places…in dirt and in fireflies.

May we each be willing to see that, sometimes, God reveals God’s presence in ways we least expect.

May we each see the literal and physical fireflies surrounding us today and in all the days to come.

Amen.

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Writer's Note: Also, due to light pollution and the rapid decline of naturally damp and wooded habitats, fireflies are disappearing. Please join me in making environmentally wise decisions and caring for God’s beautiful creation.

Waiting

Bullet Williams-Deaton was escorted home last night sometime after 9pm. About an hour later, he had released himself from his porch and returned to scratch on our back door. Knowing that he needed to sleep at his own house, dad told him to go back to the porch, pulled down the blinds, and went to bed. About an hour later, I decided to peek outside to see if Bullet had actually listened. He hadn’t. He was still at the door. Standing.

Feeling bad for him, I let him in and told him that I would sleep with him until my dad woke up and took my spot on the couch.

Living into his namesake, Bullet bulleted into the house, picked up his happy toy, and ran straight to the closed bedroom door. He put down his toy and stood at the door wagging his tail, tilting his head side to side, crying, because my dad was in the bedroom without him.

Feeling bad for him, I let him into the bedroom and told him to lie on the floor beside dad’s bed--on his confiscated NC State pillow.

Being the singled-minded dog that he is, though, he began squeaking his toy in his “I am in Daddy Deaton’s presence and therefore ecstatic" manner. Realizing that this wasn’t good for a trying-to-sleep dad, I stole Bullet’s toy and threw it into the den. After playing with him for a few minutes, I convinced him to hop onto the couch with me, but his little fat body remained very tense and his head remained aimed at the bedroom door.

Feeling bad for him, I stopped trying to convince him that he could remain on the couch and receive all the love he desired and instead released him to leap down.

He picked up his toy, ran straight to the closed bedroom door, put down his toy, wagged his tail, stood at the door tilting his head side to side, cried, and waited. He stood there for well over 15 minutes, sniffing and bending his head to listen to my now-woken-up dad talk. He waited. And waited. And waited.

Feeling bad for him, I let him into the bedroom again. This time my dad got out of bed and moved to the couch to sit with Bullet. By the time I went upstairs, Bullet was happily licking my dad’s hand, warmly snuggled up next to the love of his little doggy life.

Bullet’s waiting paid off.

Today, as I watched the noon news, I heard two different reports of the same breaking news story. One station reported one thing. Another station reported another. Neither station waited longer than a few minutes, if even that long, before reporting their information. Both stations were wrong.

Both stations should have waited.

Almost always, except in cases of emergency, waiting pays off.

What are you waiting for today?

Selah

Dreams.
Passions.
Identity.

Work ethic.
Gift giving.
Word writing.

Ability to hear God.
Desire to keep Sabbath.
Attempt to balance life.
Effectiveness as a minister and friend.

All attacked.

Repeatedly.
Over and over again.

Quivering.
Tired.
Shut down.
Apathetic.

(Selah)

“Be still and know that I am God.”

And the peace of Christ,
which transcends all understanding,
will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Repeatedly.
Over and over again.

Amen.

Stillness Sermon

Opening Song: Slow Me Down

Tomorrow is today in the crazy world I live
Yesterday rings on right now
One eye focused on the future
One eye focused on the past
I’m blinded to this present life I live

Lord slow me down
And help me see clearly
What I need to see the morning I wake up
Lord slow me down
And help me hear the rain fall
Instead of looking for the sun to come up
Lord slow me down

I do not understand what I do in this life, Lord
What I want to do, I don’t do, but what I hate I do
It is no longer you who has control of me
It’s my humanness, it’s Satan’s evil scheme

Oh Lord, I’m running to you
With open arms and a searching soul
Oh Lord, I’ve tried it on my own
I’ve wandered so far from home
With persistence I have run
But now I want to

Slow down, so help me see clearly
What I need to see the morning I wake up
Lord slow me down
And help me hear the rain fall
Instead of looking for the sun to come up
Lord slow me down

Lord slow us down

Scripture Reading: Psalm 27
1 The LORD is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?
2 When the wicked advance against me
to devour[a] me,
it is my enemies and my foes
who will stumble and fall.
3 Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then I will be confident.
4 One thing I ask from the LORD,
this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the LORD
all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the LORD
and to seek him in his temple.
5 For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
and set me high upon a rock.
6 Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the LORD.
7 Hear my voice when I call, LORD;
be merciful to me and answer me.
8 My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”
Your face, LORD, I will seek.
9 Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
God my Savior.
10 Though my father and mother forsake me,
the LORD will receive me.
11 Teach me your way, LORD;
lead me in a straight path
because of my oppressors.
12 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
for false witnesses rise up against me,
spouting malicious accusations.
13 I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the LORD
in the land of the living.
14 Wait for the LORD;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the LORD.
Prayer: Hope beyond all human hope,
you promised descendants as numerous as the stars
to old Abraham and barren Sarah.
You promise light and salvation
in the midst of darkness and despair,
and promise redemption to a world that will not listen.
Gather us to yourself in tenderness,
open our ears to listen to your word,
and teach us to live faithfully
as people confident of the fulfillment of your promises.
We ask this in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
(--taken from http://lectionary.library.vanderbilt.edu/prayers.php?id=119)

Sermon:

Do you know what you were doing on October 5, 2004? I do. I was teaching music at Erwin Elementary School. And a colleague made me angry. She made her lack of planning my emergency and then blamed it on being busy. I wrote a poem that day. Can anyone relate to this?


We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!

But how hard is it,
Is it that hard?
To communicate,
share,
discuss,
or explain,
Expectations,
needs,
wants,
desires,
and to ask for help
In advance
not on demand,
not making lack of communication
an urgent problem?

We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!

I guess we should just rename ourselves
Bumblebees.

Last weekend, I had the privilege of leading a women’s retreat at Lake Gaston. Almost all of the women on the retreat stated that they needed to get away from the busyness of life. On Thursday morning, the intern who led the Wake Med Spiritual Care staff devotion spoke about the trap of being overly busy. On Thursday afternoon, I opened When The Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd and read about the dangers of being busy. Yesterday, I read a text message from a friend who wrote that she was trying to slow down because she’d been too busy. I don’t know about you, but I’m sensing a theme.

Busyness is part of today’s culture. In fact, busyness fuels today’s culture. Doing tasks quickly. Staying constantly connected. Desiring instant gratification. Eating fast food. Demanding short checkout lines. Expecting ten minute oil changes…

Busy.

We’re taught that the less time things take, the more things we can do. The more things we can do, the easier it is to avoid the unknown. The more we avoid the unknown, the more secure we feel. The more secure we feel, the more we are afraid of losing that security.

Sue Monk Kidd writes, “What has happened to our ability to dwell in unknowing, to live inside a question and coexist with the tensions of uncertainty? Where is our willingness to incubate pain and let it birth something new? What has happened to patient unfolding, to endurance? These things are what form the ground of waiting. And if you look carefully, you’ll see that they’re also the seedbed of creativity and growth—what allows us to do the daring and to break through to newness. As Thomas Merton observed, “The imagination should be allowed a certain amount of time to browse around.” Creativity flourishes not in certainty but in questions. Growth germinates not in tent dwelling but in upheaval. Yet the seduction is always security rather than venturing, instant knowing rather than deliberate waiting.”

Deliberate waiting. Deliberate stillness. Deliberate retreat from the demands of this world.

Jesus did it. Jesus balanced spending time in public ministry with people with spending time alone with God.

Abram did it. In our Old Testament reading from this morning, we hear God promising Abram that his descendents will be more numerous than the stars in the sky. When God made this promise, Abram had no children. So Abram waited. And a son was later born to Abraham and Sarah…after much waiting.
Today’s Psalmist wrote of the importance of waiting. “Wait for the Lord,” he writes. “Be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.”
And the Psalmist in Psalm 46 wrote about the important of waiting as well. In the midst of chaos and wars and things falling apart around him, the Psalmist declares a word from God: “Be still and know that I am God.” Be still. Know.
Deliberate waiting. Deliberate stillness. Deliberate retreat from the demands of this world.

(pause)
A few years ago, I had a friend who was being pulled in too many directions. Each role that she played demanded her full attention and she was feeling incomplete in them all. I wrote:
Yes, one calls me wife,
But wife is not my name.
I love, I support, I walk beside—
But it is not all of who I am.

Yes, two call me mommy,
But mommy is not my name.
I give care, I play games, I tend the house—
But it is not all of who I am.

Yes, some call me teacher,
But teacher is not my name.
I teach, I speak, I educate—
But it is not all of who I am.

And, yes, some call me friend,
But friend is not my name.
I spend time, I listen, I laugh—
But it is not all of who I am.

All parts make the whole:
The sum is who I am.
I am a person, complete in God—
I am who I am.
When God spoke to Moses in the Old Testament, the name that God used for himself was, “I Am.” And no matter how many roles we play—no matter how much we do to fill our time—no matter how busy we stay—we will never be complete without the Great I Am. And one of the only ways to connect with I Am through the noise of this world is in stillness. In silence. In the waiting.
Deliberate waiting. Deliberate stillness. Deliberate retreat from the demands of this world.

Leaving off the radio for part of the morning commute.

Watching the news only once a day instead of staying constantly connected.

Intentionally choosing the longest line in the grocery store.

Leaving work at work as much as you can.

Sitting in silence for a portion of every day.

Turning off your cell phone and computer when you go to bed at night so that if you wake up during the night you will sit with your thoughts instead of running away from them with technology.

Might it be uncomfortable in these moments? Yes. But that’s the point.

(pause)

During this season of Lent—this time of rending the heart—
of getting rid of all that hinders and the sin that so easily binds (Hebrews 12)—
the sins of commission that we readily identify—
lying, gossip, greed, cheating, gluttony, explosive anger—
and the sins of omission that we often overlook—
self-doubt, self-hatred, self-harm, feelings of inadequacy, prejudice, fear, busyness—
may we each commit to combating busyness by deliberately waiting for life and circumstances to unfold.

God is in the waiting.

Embrace God today.

Deliberate Waiting

On October 5, 2004, a colleague made me angry. She made her lack of planning my emergency and then blamed it on being busy. I promptly wrote this poem:

Bumblebee

We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!

But how hard is it,
Is it that hard?
To communicate,
share,
discuss,
or explain,
Expectations,
needs,
wants,
desires,
and to ask for help
In advance
not on demand,
not making lack of communication
an urgent problem?

We're busy.
Life is busy.
Everything is busy.
Busy, busy, busy!

I guess we should just rename ourselves
Bumblebees.

Over the weekend, almost all of the women on the women’s retreat stated that they needed to get away from the busyness of life. This morning, the intern who led the spiritual care staff devotion spoke about the dangers of being overly busy. This afternoon, I opened When The Heart Waits by Sue Monk Kidd and read about the dangers of being busy. I’m sensing a theme.

Busyness is part of today’s culture. In fact, busyness fuels today’s culture. Doing tasks quickly. Staying constantly connected. Desiring instant gratification. Eating fast food. The less time things take, the more things we can do. The more things we can do, the easier it is to avoid both the waiting and the unknown.

Busy.

Sue Monk Kidd writes, “What has happened to our ability to dwell in unknowing, to live inside a question and coexist with the tensions of uncertainty? Where is our willingness to incubate pain and let it birth something new? What has happened to patient unfolding, to endurance? These things are what form the ground of waiting. And if you look carefully, you’ll see that they’re also the seedbed of creativity and growth—what allows us to do the daring and to break through to newness. As Thomas Merton observed, “The imagination should be allowed a certain amount of time to browse around.” Creative flourishes not in certainty but in questions. Growth germinates not in tent dwelling but in upheaval. Yet the seduction is always security rather than venturing, instant knowing rather than deliberate waiting.”

Deliberate waiting.

During this season of Lent, may we each commit to combating busyness by deliberately waiting for life and circumstances to unfold.

God is in the waiting. Embrace God today.

Not Black Eyed Pea Chili and Sauerkraut

I ate a hot dog with black-eyed pea chili and sauerkraut for lunch today. But that wasn’t the moment that struck me as odd and compelled me to write this note.

Instead, the oddest moment of my day occurred as I was waiting to use the restroom this morning. As I stood in line to wait for an empty stall, after hearing a conversation about how the conference center should have closed one set of men’s restrooms because the number of women at the WMU meeting far outnumbered the men, I heard a pleasant voice say, “And we all must stand in line.” Then it was my turn to go so I went.

Afterwards, on my way to the sink area, I saw the person whose voice I’d thought I’d recognized earlier. I saw Wanda Lee, National WMU Executive Director-Treasurer, waiting in line, too. Knowing who she is and that she was likely very busy, I felt as if she should pull rank and skip to the front or that someone should let her get in front of them. But she didn’t. And no one offered a free pass.

As Wanda stood in line with everyone else, I thought to myself, “We’re all just human. And in the grand scheme of life, no one is more important than anyone else. We’re each loved by God. We each must use the bathroom. And we each must wait our turn. Thanks for that moment of humility, Wanda. You just spoke volumes to me without even trying.”

Ever since I introduced Wanda to Stanley and golf-cart-drove her to WMU NC’s 125th birthday party at Ridgecrest, wearing a trash bag over my clothes and head to serve as rain protection in the pouring rain, I think Wanda has thought me a bit odd and not quite known what to do with me. Knowing that this is the case, I haven’t told her about the profound moment she caused in the bathroom today, standing in line, being normal, living as one of the least of these...

Maybe one day I will…

But until then…

I will simply be grateful that God is alive and working around us. Sometimes we just have to open our ears and listen…especially in the waiting.

More In The Waiting

My dear friend Amy asked me to attend a concert with her on Saturday night. Bethany Dillon is one of Amy’s musical heroes, so she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to hear Bethany since she’d been on a two year musical vacation after the birth of her first child.

Bethany opened for her husband Shane (of Shane and Shane). She played a simple song set—I think only four songs—and she talked about the songs that she sang—sharing bits of her story in between the singing—and, well, she was just great. I truly appreciate singer/songwriters who create from the depths of who they are. She is one of those. And I’m really glad I got to hear her play over the weekend.

The last song she played was a new song; it hasn’t been recorded so I can’t link it here or post the lyrics. But I can say this: it was about waiting and it was inspired by the simple statement, “God can do more in our waiting than our doing can do.”

I’ve been thinking about that statement since Saturday night. I like it. I think it’s deeply profound. Yet I’m not exactly sure how it’s to be lived because I’m not exactly sure how to wait without doing. I suppose we shouldn’t do things for the sake of busyness. But doesn’t life—and even call—demand that we do something—even while we wait?

For instance: When I was in high school, I waited on God to show me where I should go to college. But in the waiting, I had to continue with classes, put in applications, and go to interviews. I couldn’t simply stay at home and wait for the mail to arrive and the way to be made clear. In college, I waited on God to show me where I should go after graduation. But in the waiting, I had to do my part to be prepared for life after college. I couldn’t simply live the high life and wait for a position to land in my lap.

So how do we wait on God?

Or is waiting on God not really waiting at all?

Is waiting on God actually the active process of being formed into who we need to be for the next season of our lives?

Is waiting on God actually the process of living?

I don’t know. But I do know this:

I love Psalm 13. I love its honesty. I love the writer’s raw cry of desperation. I love the very real question, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?” And I love the ending when the psalmist basically says, “I don’t know how long, God. But I’m gonna keep singing your praises anyway. I’m gonna keep singing and trusting and hoping and loving anyway…because you love me…and I love you.”

And, well, I think that’s how I want to wait.
No…actually….I think that’s how I want to live.