He Waits

How often do you find yourself robbed of joy? On more than one occasion, we’ve all been there. Times when we’ve immersed ourselves so deeply in our pain that we allow the circumstance to overtake us and steal our peace. Moments when we’ve become so intently focused on the situation that our every thought is a negative one, and even though we’re surrounded by positive things and encouraging people, we remain in a defeatist mindset—broken and blue.

I encountered that experience with my dad recently. He has neuropathy in his legs and has been confined to a wheelchair for several years now. He lives nearby in a comfy little apartment and, for the most part, effectively manages life on his own. That is, until when his legs suddenly gave out and he fell on three different occasions, ultimately landing him in the hospital. He was severely dehydrated, his kidneys were functioning at half capacity, his blood pressure was too low, and his potassium and nitrogen levels too high. After a few days, the medical staff had him stabilized and his kidneys back to normal. However, his body was still too weak for him to safely return to independent living. Thus, the doctor arranged for rehab to build his strength back—something he was NOT in favor of.

With each passing day, his mental state deteriorated more and more. Instead of the positive, happy-go-lucky person that I’m used to, I experienced an agitated, irritated, frustrated man who was miserable in every sense of the word. All aspects of his surroundings only served to make him increasingly annoyed: checking his vitals every four hours, receiving three chicken tenders at dinner instead of four, even someone just popping their head in to ask if he needs anything sent him into a tailspin. He was in a situation he didn’t ask for, did nothing to create, and he wouldn’t stop obsessing over all the things he couldn’t do: getting out of bed without the support of two people, going to the bathroom on his own, or even bathing alone. He was in a time of being completely dependent on others and, for a rather private, independent man, it was simply too overwhelming.

Daily, I sat by his side and watched as he clenched his hands in indignation, jabbed his fingers in aggravation, and shook his head in disbelief and refusal of his current state in life.  Each time he spewed his tirade of complaints, I tried to counterbalance by explaining the importance of what they were doing, point out the positives and progress he’d already made, and remind him of the goal to get him back home.  He’d close his eyes and nod his head, “I know, I know,” he’d say.  He instinctively understood but he was so consumed with dwelling on how things were today compared to a week ago that he’d hijack himself of even one minute of peace.  He was so focused on his condition that he was blinded to the good that was actually happening all around him.  I can’t express in words how much it hurt to watch him be devoured by despair and hopelessness; it absolutely broke my heart. Day after day I endured this emotional roller coaster with my dad and, I’ll be honest—it was exhausting. Some days, the human in me just got tired of waiting for him to come around.

During one of my visits, I sat looking at him in silence. As my eyes fused on him, my thoughts drifted to God. I couldn’t help but consider how many times it must have hurt Him when I’ve been the same way. At one time or another, we’ve all been the same way. Areas of our lives where we’ve allowed our happiness to be stolen. People or situations we’ve become so focused on that we failed to notice God sitting right there by our side, watching with a heavy heart, as we grip tighter to our negative lens. I thought about how my every attempt to help my dad change his perspective seemed to fall on deaf ears. He acknowledged that he understood but then his next words were merely more cynical, gloom-ridden comments. God’s efforts for us often fail in similar fashion. Although not from an inability or incompetence on His part, but rather from our own obstinance and headstrong ways.

As I considered the similarities between the hurt in watching a loved one struggle and God watching us struggle, I was struck by one major difference—He waits. Where we may become frazzled and fatigued, He never gets exhausted or exasperated with us. No matter how many times He has to try to get us to focus on Him instead of our circumstances—He waits. Where we may tend to pull away and protect ourselves, He draws in closer and opens up more. Regardless of how many times we ignore Him and don’t recognize His efforts—He waits. Where we may give up and label our loved one a lost cause, He doubles down on His promises and endures. Despite how often we strip ourselves of the peace He tries to give—He still waits.

If there are things in your life that He’s been trying to get you to open your eyes and see, it’s not too late. Why? Because He waits. He never grows weary of holding out His hand to you. His love never tires. It’s unending. It doesn’t stop and is never swayed by our choices and decisions. So, the next time you find yourself harpooning your peace, lay claim to God’s promises. He is ever constant, and harmony and rest are yours. No matter how long it takes you, how far down you seem, or how many times you have to take that step towards Him, you can find joy on your journey. Because—He waits.