Learning How to Wait
Since the start of fall semester, I’ve ended every entry in my journal with the prayer, “God, I surrender. I surrender all.” Out of context, it comes across a little cheesy, words steeped in “Christian-ese.” But it’s an earnest prayer. And, in all honesty, it’s a prayer I’ve been struggling to pray despite its frequent repetition in my heart and on the page. Surrender requires waiting, and nobody likes waiting.
We live in a society that screams, “If you want it, go for it.” We’re encouraged to act on our emotions, to take chances. Although this is all well and good in certain scenarios, our resulting and growing need for instant satisfaction worries me.
We aren’t willing to wait for anything. Or, we’re willing to wait only very short periods of time to buy what we want, for him to text back, for her to comment on our Instagram post that we spent so much time getting just right. If we don’t get these things within a certain time, we end up hurting ourselves or other people in our scramble to set things “right” and make sure we get what we think we deserve. At this point, it’s all about us. I have found myself ridiculously guilty of this mad rush to satisfy my needs in my way and my time.
For better or worse, this need for instant satisfaction has been fed by increasingly speedy technology. With a tap of our finger we can order something online, and if we choose to pay a little extra, we can get it within two days of that first tap. Music platforms provide monthly subscriptions to put thousands of songs at our fingertips so we don’t have to shuffle through radio stations to wait for our favorite song. Some airports now have “Clear,” a members-only recognition technology that allows frequent fliers to get through security even faster than with TSA pre-check. We’re paying not to wait.
It makes sense why surrender is becoming more and more difficult. Why would we give up our desires and be told, “Wait,” by God when we can more easily give up our money and be told, “Here, have it,” by every other source?
My word of the year for 2019 was “follow.” This word seemed full of potential at the start. It was a word teeming with adventure and open doors and new beginnings, so I dove in with arms wide open to receive all of God’s good gifts. But not so fast, the Holy Spirit said. I first had to be emptied of misplaced loves, of seeking for fulfillment and self-worth in things like getting published, being hired for a high-profile student leadership position, or hoping for a relationship when I ought to have been learning how to be single. Following God meant surrendering my own desires and learning to be grateful for the blessings he was giving me in his timing. Following God meant being patient and it meant waiting, both of which are now my words of the year for 2020.
Instant satisfaction in the world comes piece-meal and then quickly disappoints. I build all my hopes and dreams into this grand Victorian mansion and then one small wind of change or pain knocks the whole thing over. Building my own kingdom is fragile, futile. Plus, it never seems to be enough.
“Come to me all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,” Jesus says (Matthew 11:28). It’s a verse I’ve heard so many times that I usually just gloss right over it, but of late the words have stuck out to me like a welcome home beacon in the middle of a fierce tempest of unknowns. That’s what I really want: rest. And peace! Peace, that deep understanding that I am beloved and worthy and that I don’t need to get it all right in order to be either of those things.
Jesus promises rest to us and all we have to do is surrender, obey. He has already given us eternal rest in his death and resurrection, but he kindly and lovingly desires for us to experience this rest now. And so, the parable goes, “The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up. Then in his joy he goes and sells all that he has and buys that field” (Matthew 13:44).
Jesus is worth surrendering for. We can never be truly satisfied by anything this world has to offer, but Jesus has promised to wholly satisfy and wholly provide for our every need. In him we find rest, and he is worth waiting on our desires for.
God, I surrender. I surrender all.
words by Eliana Chow and photo by Marlow Amick