THEOLOGY OF WAITING
A n t i c i p a t i o n
C r e a t i o n , b u r d e n e d, g r o a n i n g
Y e a r n i n g f o r r e l e a s e
A n t i c i p a t i o n
J e s u s, p o i s e d u p o n H i s t h r o n e
W a i t i n g f o r H i s c u e
A n t i c i p a t i o n
C h i l d r e n, h e a v y w i t h s o r r o w s
C l i n g i n g t o t h e H o p e
~ D o n n a P a u l s e n
D a i s y F i e l d s
Where once the fields of daisies grew,
There lays a deathly snow.
The time of summer’s eager heat,
Seeming so long ago.
The chill, shuddering through the air,
Reaching to deepest soul,
Freezing what once was burning heat,
Breaking what once seemed whole.
It’s easy to gaze deeply here,
And wish for what was then…
Forgetting that when winter’s o’er,
These flow’rs will bloom again.
~ B e n M a s t
In The Waiting
by Rae Paul
V e i l e d
by Bethany Paulsen
She stood at the edge of the pier, her sandaled feet aimed at the rolling, glossy waves. The sky was shielded by gray clouds, folded in on themselves like wool blankets. Her body was eerily still as she waited.
The young woman’s mind was in a disarrayed, groggy state, having suffered yet another sleepless night. The consolation for her sleep deprived state, was the anticipation of a glorious sunrise. She had been informed by the students in her study abroad program, the sun rose at 4:00am in Greystones, Ireland. They had assured her, the sacrifice of rest was well worth viewing the suns’ splendor. The students themselves had risen early in the previous week to witness it for their own pleasure, while the young woman had determined that sleepless morning, it to be the lesser of miserable options.
She stood an hour without moving, staring vacantly into the distance, but the folds of gray matter hovered low, obscuring even the slightest sunray from reaching her optic nerve.
Her lips began to move slightly, whispering her agitation to God. Her murmurs grew louder, transcending to a shout. In quick progression, she found herself screeching outright in his supposed direction.
I.
The sun dawns new time
with warm rays comforting my skin
Thy grace anew as the day begins
I rise to be greeted by Thy mercies
Who am I but wretched man,
to deserve the perfect love of Thee?
A mere speck of ground’s dust
cannot help but settle within
the grasp of nail-pierced hands,
of which I may never be removed.
Thy light shines brighter
than dark shadows in the field.
Where am I to go
from the shining love of Thee?
My flesh begs my soul
to flee Thy presence
as my soul longs to drown
in the fruits of Thy Spirit.
Dearest Abba,
let Thy name be all the more glorified!
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This piece is inspired by the dormant state many plants experience during the winter: days are short, nights are long, the earth is barren, the ground is hard and frozen. Many seeds require a period of cold to germinate. Despite the long, cold winter, we live in expectant hope of a beautiful spring. Similarly, God uses periods of waiting in our Christian walk to prepare us for growth.
~ Laura Piper
A few days ago I was very restless. I tend to get that way when I'm between life stages, or when waiting on something the Lord isn't providing. Thoughts and questions flood my mind, my focus lapses, and I can no longer tolerate sitting still. So, after a day at work where I'd been immobile at a desk all day my insides felt like they might suddenly find themselves outside the bounds of my body. Imagine the headlines...Young Female Explodes at Work; imagine the new statistics: One in 4 billion Females Explode from Restlessness; imagine the eye witness accounts: "Yeah...uh, (wipes forehead, mouth agape) I looked over and saw her just sitting at her desk...steam was pouring from her eyes like a tea kettle...she convulsed like her insides were boiling...and within 2 minutes and 15 seconds (ironically the amount of time it takes the best of electric kettles to boil water) her colon was splat on the desk and her spleen was over there (hand points, shaking) against the wall."
And close the door on my morbid sense of humor and return with me to the present. Welcome.
When in a state of restlessness I've found that often the best way for me to help relieve the anxiety that accompanies it is to be outside and to move.
Go Back
and Wait
Kayla
Hembree
S t e a d y
a n g u i s h r e s t r a i n e d
l i m i t e d b y e x p e c t a t i o n s
h o w l o n g o r h o w d e e p
o n e s h o u l d m o u r n
~ M e g C l e a r y
Time
by Allie Miller
She is talked about by each face
And we curse her pace
Either she is too slow or too fast, rarely “just right” for our taste
She is misunderstood and often laid waste
She has learned to give grace
By teaching each race
Teaching them that
Her tempo is consistent and gives rhythm to life,
Still, humanity twists her arms causing her strife
We live within her, we fight against her, and we try to keep up with her
She pleads with us to look around and let her seconds turn into her minutes
A minute to see what is beautiful preceding her, in her, and ahead of her
She knows she is a gift, even when she is looked upon like a disease
She hopes that all will find peace
She does not exist only to tease
She was created to be enjoyed
Yet often she gives herself only to be destroyed
She cannot fill our man made voids
Be thankful, dear creature, for our Father gives her to us that we may not be devoid.