I was expecting a package last week.
It contained some important documents,¹ and I wanted to be sure I was home to receive and sign for it. So I cleared my calendar and planned on staying home all day to await its arrival.
Have you ever noticed that when you're expecting someone or something important, the anticipation heightens your awareness of otherwise routine and mundane? Suddenly,
footsteps on the stairs,
trucks driving by,
knock on a neighbors door,
phone ringing,
voices in the hallway,
all trigger a reaction in your fast-twitch package-arrival nerve centers.
It came,
(eventually).
But not on the day or in the way I expected.²
I've been waiting for my residence permit for over six months now. I might get it soon; maybe today, possibly tomorrow, and hopefully by the end of this week. I thought I would get it last week, once I submitted the documents I received in the package I had been waiting for. But apparently there's at least one more step; I remain cautiously optimistic that it's the final one.
My anticipation has been heightened. I'm ready for it to be here, to hold it in my hands. To sit on my couch and exhale, deliberately and deeply, letting the hopes and frustrations of the past several months slowly fade into the past tense
I'd like to think that I'm waiting for Jesus with the same fervor and anticipation that I have been for these packages and permits. That my anticipation will heighten my awareness of the otherwise routine and mundane, so that
footsteps on the stairs,
trucks driving by,
knock on a neighbors door,
phone ringing,
voices in the hallway,
all trigger a reaction in my fast-twitch Jesus-arrival nerve centers.
Rarely do I wonder as I answer my door, "maybe Jesus is here, at last!"
Perhaps I should?
Anna and Simeon³ seemed to have a mix of awe and wonder in their reaction to Jesus. Awe, because their long-awaited dream was finally realized, and their waiting - measured in decades, not days - was finally at an end. Wonder, because this was most likely not at all what they had expected. And yet, their expectations did not prevent them from holding their⁴ Messiah in their arms, and recognizing him as being the answer to their prayers, the fulfillment of their dreams, the answer to their questions, the end to their waiting.
As I wait for Jesus' return, may my anticipation be keen enough to see Him everywhere, and my expectations wide enough to be able to someday say "of COURSE! I didn't imagine it would be like this, but now everything makes perfect sense!" Heaven forbid that, as He returns, I say "Wait, no, not like this, Jesus! This isn't how it's supposed to work!"
And so, I wait. Imperfectly, impatiently, but with awe and wonder growing all the while.
¹My long-awaited apostilled copy of my diploma. What's an apostille, you ask? Having received it, I'm still not sure I know
²It took several long detours in Ohio along the way.
³Luke chapter 2
⁴"Their" in both the personal and the corporate (kin, country, and culture) sense
It contained some important documents,¹ and I wanted to be sure I was home to receive and sign for it. So I cleared my calendar and planned on staying home all day to await its arrival.
Have you ever noticed that when you're expecting someone or something important, the anticipation heightens your awareness of otherwise routine and mundane? Suddenly,
footsteps on the stairs,
trucks driving by,
knock on a neighbors door,
phone ringing,
voices in the hallway,
all trigger a reaction in your fast-twitch package-arrival nerve centers.
It came,
(eventually).
But not on the day or in the way I expected.²
I've been waiting for my residence permit for over six months now. I might get it soon; maybe today, possibly tomorrow, and hopefully by the end of this week. I thought I would get it last week, once I submitted the documents I received in the package I had been waiting for. But apparently there's at least one more step; I remain cautiously optimistic that it's the final one.
My anticipation has been heightened. I'm ready for it to be here, to hold it in my hands. To sit on my couch and exhale, deliberately and deeply, letting the hopes and frustrations of the past several months slowly fade into the past tense
I'd like to think that I'm waiting for Jesus with the same fervor and anticipation that I have been for these packages and permits. That my anticipation will heighten my awareness of the otherwise routine and mundane, so that
footsteps on the stairs,
trucks driving by,
knock on a neighbors door,
phone ringing,
voices in the hallway,
all trigger a reaction in my fast-twitch Jesus-arrival nerve centers.
Rarely do I wonder as I answer my door, "maybe Jesus is here, at last!"
Perhaps I should?
Anna and Simeon³ seemed to have a mix of awe and wonder in their reaction to Jesus. Awe, because their long-awaited dream was finally realized, and their waiting - measured in decades, not days - was finally at an end. Wonder, because this was most likely not at all what they had expected. And yet, their expectations did not prevent them from holding their⁴ Messiah in their arms, and recognizing him as being the answer to their prayers, the fulfillment of their dreams, the answer to their questions, the end to their waiting.
As I wait for Jesus' return, may my anticipation be keen enough to see Him everywhere, and my expectations wide enough to be able to someday say "of COURSE! I didn't imagine it would be like this, but now everything makes perfect sense!" Heaven forbid that, as He returns, I say "Wait, no, not like this, Jesus! This isn't how it's supposed to work!"
And so, I wait. Imperfectly, impatiently, but with awe and wonder growing all the while.
¹My long-awaited apostilled copy of my diploma. What's an apostille, you ask? Having received it, I'm still not sure I know
²It took several long detours in Ohio along the way.
³Luke chapter 2
⁴"Their" in both the personal and the corporate (kin, country, and culture) sense