Waiting

The waiting room in a doctor's office might be the least relaxing place in existence, especially because of the irony of its nomenclature. I can recall several experiences in the waiting room that were less than enjoyable: pre-wisdom teeth surgery (valium, anyone?), subglottal stenosis saga, eye swelling saga, and GYN news waiting, just to name a few. The colors and pictures are designed to relax you, but the chairs you sit in barely let you do anything but sit up straight. The outdated magazines only serve to distract you slightly from your upcoming fears, and every time the nurse opens the door, everyone sucks wind, the air gets thin, and everyone waits to hear their name outloud. Sometimes you're so shocked you barely recognize your own name!

I feel like I'm in the waiting room right now. What appointment am I waiting for? What seems to be having me check the mail, my phone and e-mail every 30 minutes? What keeps me restless and bored at the same time?

A promise. A prophecy. A picture of the future.

Recently the Lord has been speaking to me in various ways about what is coming up next in my life. It all started with losing my job and renewing my belief that God would provide ALL I needed in the coming months (Phil. 4:19), that He would never leave or forsake me (Joshua 1:5), and that He would rescue me because He delighted in me (Psalm 18:19). Then, our church's friend Joe Ewen and his prayer for me a few weeks ago stirred it up again. While he was praying for me, he prophesied that this year was a year of BREAKTHROUGH and that God would be shaking off all of the disappointment I had about my future!

Then, this past week, as I was spending a particularly amazing time with Jesus, I saw the conclusion of a picture He had given me a year ago. The first part of the picture I saw while people would pray for me and my self-hatred, or anytime I felt that spiritual warfare was being done on my behalf: I saw myself sitting in a spotlight, with Jesus off to the side, fighting something with a sword that was consumed in the darkness. In June, I got the next part of the picture: Jesus stopped fighting, took my hand, and told me to get up (which was particularly confusing to me! Why'd he stop?!). This last week, I saw the conclusion of the picture: Jesus was punching through a brick wall, bloodying up his knuckles, creating a hole in which he led me through, into green pastures and sunshine.

So I know that something is coming. I just don't know when. He alone knows I need money, a job, would love to be married and have children, and love to be healed completely of my autoimmune disease. He knows. And I've been promised breakthrough.

So I'll wait.

"but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;

they shall mount up with wings like eagles;

they shall run and not be weary;

they shall walk and not faint."

-Isaiah 40:31