The Shifting Sands of Waiting By Lisa Brogan
Historically, I was never a huge fan of waiting. When I was younger, I demanded immediate gratification. Waiting was a fool’s game – if you want it, make it happen; if it doesn’t, well, on to the next. Time spent waiting was wasted as far as I could tell.
I spent several years in the throes of alcoholism and drug addiction. My life was spent waiting for the next substance that would remove me from myself and the world. Waiting was time spent feeling sick and desperate. Get me what I need – I simply can’t wait any longer.
Then I got sober, and I waited for things to get better. Waiting was necessary, but painful. I was told that if I was patient, did the work of getting to know and trust God, and waited, there would be promises and rewards of a better life. It was the first time I can recall that waiting had to be accompanied by faith. If I didn’t believe in the promise of recovery, I never could have withstood the waiting. It was too hard, too uncomfortable. But they told me that God had my back, that He was waiting with me; it would be ok. And it was.
Waiting took on a new dimension. It was no longer dead time – it was time spent preparing for what was to come. Time spent learning how to exist in the new reality that I was waiting for. Waiting became productive and intentional. And when I did it around a community of other people who understood and could support me, it became a shared experience of love. Still rough at times, but always hopeful.
This is the kind of waiting that I now actually look forward to in Advent. It is an intentional time, during which I can reflect, do the work of repentance, observe myself and see how I am doing at living the life God has asked me to live. I am reminded what it means to be a player in the new reality, the new life that Jesus promises. It is a time of both eager anticipation and peaceful wonder – yes, we know what’s coming, but that never makes it any less awe-inspiring, any less profound. In my church and in the Cursillo community, we wait together in a shared experience of love. Waiting has ceased to be a task, a drudgery. It is time gifted to me to bask in God’s love and mercy – to remember what it means to be called to know, love and serve the Lord.
On the fourth Sunday of Advent we hear about the Annunciation, the beginning of the greatest love story ever told. God become man. God giving flesh to love. God loving us so much that, in human form, he suffered and sacrificed everything, all for the love of man. For the love of each of you. For the love of me.
I’d say that’s worth waiting for.