The season is painful. The waiting is painful. Keeping my peace is painful. Even the "not knowing" is painful. This life is truly something else; half the time, you can’t even have a conversation with someone without getting all messed up. It feels like you can’t do much of anything other than sit, drink, and wait on God to show up in a powerful way and set you loose—even if it’s just for a little while.
When you’re sitting there drinking, you’re just wondering. Half the time, you don’t even know what’s going on. Is it God? Is it not God? Am I drinking the right stuff? Am I praying the right prayers or hearing the right things? I guess it just takes time, as it always has.
It has rarely been an instant thing. There is a process to it, but as my mentors keep saying: "Stay in Jerusalem until power comes from on high." It is the strangest life imaginable because it’s so contrary to how the world operates. Everyone moves so fast and so impulsively, yet they aren't actually getting anywhere. They think they are achieving success through money, cars, houses, and the "American Dream," but none of it means anything without God. The pace of this world is chaotic—total insanity and vanity, with everyone running in circles.
I often get the impression that in all this waiting, I am being equipped for what is coming. It just doesn't look like "preparation" while you're in the middle of it. Once again, it seems like everyone else is running at a different speed, which doesn't help if you let your eyes wander. You really have to keep your mind glued to your belly to keep your sanity. Even then, you aren't perfect. Some days you don't know what to do or how to act. Sometimes you get yourself into a little bit of trouble and have to spend time coming out of it—getting the weight of it washed off you.
It feels like a constant trial-and-error: you rise, you fall, you wash yourself off, you dust yourself off, and you wait. Other times it’s more consistent—not necessarily a "fall," just the natural roller coaster of the day.
But somehow, this still beats the chaotic function of the world. You always have hope. Prayers do get answered eventually, and you see people get touched by the glory every now and then. It just doesn't move at your pace. Sometimes I think the story of the tortoise and the hare is really about God versus the world. He has His own pace, and to other people, it doesn't look like much of anything at all. But we all know how that story ended.
That’s what this feels like: being the tortoise and slowing down to God’s pace. I’m learning to be consistent at His speed, guarding my peace, and staying as connected as possible. I’m sacrificing those impulsive urges that don’t serve the call. Eventually, you just get tired of being drained and losing your center. You find yourself wanting to hold onto your peace so that when you finally arrive somewhere, you are a solution to the problem, not a part of it.
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