An annual phenomenon is happening again all around us. Along with trees flowering and leafing out, flower buds bursting into bloom, bees emerging from their hibernation, mosquitoes gearing up for another bloodthirsty season, schools are closing down for the summer and setting free thousands upon thousands of students (and their weary teachers and school administrators). Only a minor number of academically inclined pupils will experience this season mixed with a tinge of sadness (I can well remember that feeling).
A second, related phenomenon is about to occur on the heels of the first. Yep, boredom. In homes everywhere, the plaint will, oh! so soon, be heard: ‘I’m bored. I have nothing to do!’ Parents, please understand. This is not, as you might suppose, a request for your input. It is simply the verbalized acknowledgement of the confusing transition from a life ordered, for hours a day, by the ringing of bells, to the unending expanse of entire days in the same ‘classroom.’ (We aren’t creatures of habit. Nosirree! Not us!)
When the disciples’ gift of 40 Bonus Days was up, Jesus just levitated and disappeared into a cloud right before his shocked band of followers. Each of the guys attempted to come to grips with what had just taken place. A good deal of, ‘I’ll just wait here till he gets back,’ was happening. Some were worrying, ‘Oh no! What now?’ Others were silently (desperately?) hoping if they gazed up into the clouds intently enough, this bad dream would go away, and they would wake up and carry on with Jesus as before. I get it.
But it was not to be. Their pity party was rudely interrupted by two enormous celestial beings, dressed in dazzling white. The guys were all ordered back into Jerusalem, to the waiting room. No longer would they eagerly follow Jesus as he traveled around Judea doing astonishing things. Jesus had returned to his Father as he told them he was going to do. The hours now stretched out before them, day after day after long, drawn out, day. But they weren’t bored. They were too anxious. So, they prayed. And prayed. And prayed.
Waiting rooms are typically not our favorite places. Yet God seems to have a strong penchant for them. Sarai and Abram waited till they were 99 and 100 respectively, to become the parents of their promised son. The Israelites waited 430 years to be delivered from Egypt. And there were extended times of exile, and centuries more, waiting for the Messiah. And further millennia waiting for Jesus’ return. Yes, waiting rooms seem integral to God’s Plan ‘A.’ Maybe they are divinely orchestrated to be faith-made-sight workout rooms. Looking forward to seeing y’all tomorrow as we wait, and worship, together, 10 AM, 3 PM UK, 4 PM ES. PD
