Pace of Waiting
Abbie and I had the honor and privilege to travel to New York for a conference at which Abbie was presenting her research. It has been an incredible time of rediscovering grounds that we both have walked before, but now we walk with much more experience, awareness, and attention to the heart of God.
As we journeyed through Brooklyn, Manhattan, the subway system, the smells, the streets, the countless faces, the landmarks, the smiles, and the tears, we recognized a new pulse to this city that is rightly named “The City that Never Sleeps”. In fact, the indoor skateboard park, rock climbing gym, and cross fit place down the street from our hotel can all attest to not sleeping (especially those skateboarders who like to grind rails at 3am).
It caught us as we walked the Brooklyn Bridge. A beautiful sight of incredible engineering and raw, strong imaginative construction. For some, it is a landmark of ingenuity, for others, it is simply a commuting passage. Take for example, the Statue of Liberty. A great display of unity, of freedom, of hope for many traveling to come to a land that promises all of those attributes. For some, it’s a masterpiece, worthy of photographic snapshots or time spent staring and reflecting. For others, it’s an eyesore, covered in bird poop, and too expensive to travel to, think about, or distract from the task at hand.
The most incredible, and by incredible I do mean unbelievable, sight we came across in which we recognized this pulse was at ground zero of the World Trade Center. There are now two pools with flooding streams racing into a gapping hole while names mark the barriers all around the edges of the waters. Behind these pools are the newly constructed One World Trade Center, and across the street is an amazing sculpture that almost replicates a wingspan. It reminded me of a phoenix rising from the ashes.
It was heart-wrenching, yet hope-inspiring. It was tragically reminding us of death, but clearly pointing to an infinite aspiration. And yes, I am aware that this a memorial that is ultimately leading to a greater understanding of the spirit of America that many believe will not perish. However, for me, I recognized this all through the lens of the Kingdom, in which death is not the final word, but the Word is the final word as Christ’s resurrection is our promised hope and confidence.
All of this to say that as we spent time praying for these families, reflecting, and looking upon in grief, we also saw many walking past these places faces glued to cell phones, looking beyond these “tourist attractions”, or even using them as shortcuts to get to the next meeting. I think what I am getting at is that we recognized a pulse that was so rushed that these sights, landmarks, and symbols of freedom and hope are just objects in the way of what we think we really matters. We miss the opportunity to feel small and allow our weaknesses be open doors for growth and life to flourish.
And New York is not the only place guilty of this paradigm. As a Californian, living in Los Angeles County, I understand hurry, and rush, and fast-paced lifestyle. It’s expected of me, even as a pastor. I need to constantly be doing, trying, earning, and living in such a way that people will think a certain way about me. The only problem with this is that these people that I want to think about me are too busy to think about anything but themselves, and I fall into that trap as well.
I miss the beauty of the mountains near me because I’m preoccupied with emails. I miss the landmarks of God’s image in each person because I’m thinking about another program. I miss the depth of insight in conversation because I’m too self-absorbed to recognize that the Lord is working in each person and we are more called to dialogue than monologue.
I guess what I am getting at is this: we all need to slow down. There is beauty all around. Each person, each smile, each tear, each moment. We have the opportunity to pace ourselves in the time of eternity, to root ourselves in that relational understanding of God’s commute in our hearts, and to connect ourselves to a greater perspective of His promise, even when things are “in the way”, “eye sores”, or “covered in poop”.
Because the reality is this: He’s present and He’s calling us to the pace of waiting until we are truly aware of His presence.
The only way to do that?
Slow down, Beloved, be present.
Here is a poem I wrote about in reflection on these ideas and on the hope of actually traveling at the pace of eternity. We'll get there one day, but as for now, I’m not in any hurry.
