This is one of my favorite blog posts of all time. If you are in a season of waiting–a season of, “God? Hello??? Are you there? Do you see me?“–then this post is for you.
Original run date: October 10, 2008
At the time I have decided, my words will come true. You can trust what I say about the future. It may take a long time, but keep on waiting–it will happen! Habakkuk 2:3 (CEV)
The day was glorious. After nine long months, I was about to give birth to my daughter, Rebekah. Because of some prior health complications, she would enter our lives by way of scheduled cesarean section. We arrived at the hospital at 6:00 am and spent most of the morning waiting—for a room, for the nurse, for the doctor. Now, nearly six hours later, I was strapped to a table, flat on my back—waiting again for the procedure to begin.
I was completely numb from the chest down, and a curtain hung between me and the surgeons, blocking my view entirely. My husband Jon stood at my side holding my hand—with a bird’s-eye view of both my face and my belly. I waited patiently (sort of) while Jon and I exchanged nervous smiles.
The pregnancy had been of the “long and difficult” variety. Even though I knew I would be giving birth shortly, I was tired of waiting. If I could have been tapping my foot at that moment, I certainly would have been. The doctors hovered quietly over my belly for what seemed like an hour—saying nothing. I could only see the tops of their heads. At this point in the game, I was in the final stretch and ready for it all to be over.
Jon, a man of few words, had nothing much to say. Assuming he would give me a play-by-play once the doctors began to cut, I waited for them to make the first incision…
“When are they going to get started?” I thought. “What are they doing down there anyway? Why haven’t they begun the surgery?”
Finally, I whispered to my husband, “I wish they would hurry up and get started—can you please ask them when they are going to start the c-section?”
I will never forget my husband’s hilarious response:
“Honey, your guts are all over the table!”
“Ahhh! They are?!”
I was shocked. I had no idea. I felt nothing. And because there was no verbal communication, I assumed nothing was happening. Moments later my doctor held up my beautiful baby girl—and before I knew it, my life changed forever by Rebekah’s entrance into the world.
I am currently in another season of waiting…literally and spiritually. I am literally waiting for children in carpool lines and tae kwon do lessons, waiting for traffic in the long commute to and from the children’s school, and waiting for Jon to come home after a long day. I am spiritually waiting for direction in my ministry, waiting for doors of opportunity to open, and waiting for prayers to be answered.
To top it all off, I am waiting for my feelings to change about my circumstances. Frankly, I’ve been doing a lot of foot-tapping lately.
I feel idle.
I feel unproductive.
I know something is supposed to be happening, but I can’t see it, I can’t feel it, and no one’s talking…so I assume nothing is happening.
Why won’t God act?
Why won’t He speak?
Doesn’t He realize that He can change my circumstances in an instant?
Has He forgotten that He’s got me strapped to this table and I can’t move?
But I wonder if maybe I’m just under a kind of
How painful—indeed, unbearable—surgery would be without it. I’m wondering if I were granted a bird’s-eye view of my life, if I’d see that the Great Physician is on the other side of the curtain cutting away my fleshly desires, removing impurities that hinder my ability to hear His voice, and stitching wounds so deep that even I don’t know they are there.
But also, in His infinite love and mercy, He is protecting me from both the pain and the details of the procedure. The curtain and the silence have a purpose. It seems the silence does not indicate a lack of action on God’s part, but rather a lack of perspective on mine. Maybe—just maybe—my guts are lying all over the table…and I’m just moments away of giving birth to my dream.