Here in Kansas, the wheat harvest should be in full swing but, due to rain, farmers wait. School is out, and instead of our normal routines, we wait — for the pool to open, for Daddy to get home from work, for the grandparents to pick up our daughter so I can go to work, for an art program at the library to start, for the day we leave on our road trip.

 

At church, too, we wait. We wait for our pastor to return from sabbatical and for things to “get back to normal.” We wait for the Sunday school kiddos to move up a class at the end of the summer. We wait for the day that the lion will lie down with the lamb. We wait.

 

What does it mean to wait, not just in longing for time to pass, but to live while waiting? Here are five things that, perhaps, might help us truly live, rather than just wait.

 

One of my part-time jobs is as the library director at the Western District Conference Resource Library (Mennonite Church USA). A couple of weeks ago, we had a Summer Story Day at the library. Rather than a weekly Story Hour, like public libraries, the Resource Library has a daylong come-and-go event with stories (of course) and activities for children and their caregivers to do together.

 

Our June session was “It’s a Party: Pentecost.” We had Pentecost, Holy Spirit and church family-related stories with a bunch of fun projects and activities. What struck me during the day, as well as the next day in Sunday school with younger elementary students, is that nobody really seemed to have any idea who the Holy Spirit is. They didn’t seem to remember even hearing about the Spirit.

 

The next day, at staff meeting, we were encouraged to reflect on where we sense the Holy Spirit moving in our lives and in our work. What an excellent exercise for us personally, as households and in congregational settings. How would it change our lives if, while we wait, we look for and listen for the Spirit’s leading? How does being attentive to the Spirit’s moving and talking about it together change our lives and intimacy with God?

 

Last Sunday was Father’s Day, and in talking with a friend, I was reminded how much weight our words carry. My friends are in a season of waiting — waiting and longing for a child to hold. This Father’s Day should’ve been the one that the Father’s Day pictures featured their sweet firstborn, but instead their arms are empty. Instead of acknowledging my friend as a father and the entire journey, the words spoken to him focused on the “will be,” causing pain. What does it mean to focus not so much on the waiting but the companioning of others on difficult journeys and considering the weight of our words?

 

One of my Sunday school kiddos talked last Sunday about the “No Kings” protest his mother attended last weekend. It gave me pause as I thought about how we talk to our children about injustice and how we can love others and work for positive change. I’m thankful for Natalie Frisk’s book, A Light to Share: Stories of Spreading Love and Changing the World. This book from MennoMedia highlights 12 Jesus followers who used their unique gifts to share about Jesus — the true world-changing light. In learning about these disciples, readers are emboldened to share their own gifts. Instead of simply waiting until children grow up, politics change or some other time that will be “better,” we, too, can be God’s agents of peace and love.

 

Last night in a trauma-recovery support group, we talked about a commitment to change. We should choose something that we can commit to doing to in the next week to help us walk more fully in healing and in full healthy relationship with God and others. Sometimes these commitments seem simple, yet they are hard in the context of healing from trauma. What “simple” steps might you take to recenter on God so that you’re not merely waiting but living fully in whatever season of waiting you find yourself?

 

As I was composing this post, the song “Everlasting God” by Chris Tomlin started playing on Pandora. “Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord.” When our own strength, our own energy, ends, may we remember the faithful God, the strong deliverer, the everlasting God whom we worship. In a time of decreasing Sunday worship attendance, what does it mean to value the Anabaptist act of communal worship? What does it mean to praise and honor God together regularly? How do speaking, singing, proclaiming and hearing these truths of who God is change our act of waiting?