There are lots of ways to wait, and lately it feels like I have tried them all: waiting with impatience, waiting with hope, waiting with fear, waiting with excitement, waiting with resignation. In the moments when my companions in waiting have been less than pleasant, it has been easy to wonder if I’m doing it wrong. Why can’t I stay in those respites of waiting with hope? Why can’t I dwell in those moments of certainty and trust? It can feel like those negative emotions are barriers to waiting well, blocking me from joy and peace on the journey.
But the longer I sit in this season, the more times I have come to encounter a different reality. Perhaps instead of being barriers to hope, joy, or peace, these emotions are simply a part of the natural rhythm of being a person. This brings to my mind the cadence of the psalms. There are songs of joy and hope and complete confidence in God’s faithfulness. There are psalms of confusion, despair, and hopelessness. But they are all in a book together. One flows into the next, reminding us that no matter how we are feeling about our circumstances, it will change. It will ebb and flow. The psalms remind me that maybe I’m not waiting wrong at all. Maybe I’m just human. Just like the voices of the psalms, my emotions change, sometimes because of my circumstances, and sometimes in spite of them.
In these moments, I think especially of the psalms where the emotional tone changes throughout the prayer— often moving from fear, despair, or anger toward hope, trust, and peace. This isn’t to say that prayer always accomplishes this for us, but it show us that we do not need to reject our less comfortable emotions before God, nor do we need to deny or ignore them within ourselves. Instead, we can feel them fully, trusting that they will change over time. Big emotions can feel like a new and permanent reality, but the psalms remind us that this isn’t the case.
The longer I sit with this idea, the more I feel invited to see the natural fluctuation of my emotions not always as a barometer for how I’m doing, but instead as my companions on a journey. I’m not doing a worse job in my prayer life because I feel angry or full of uncertainty. And importantly, I’m not extra holy just because I experience periods filled with hopeful expectation. Instead, I can learn to find God in each of these experiences, trusting that God is at work in my waiting and in my heart regardless of my emotional landscape at any given time.
We are entering the season of Advent, where we all practice waiting. As you begin this season, consider your emotional companions. What are the feelings and experiences that have marked your waiting so far? Do you find yourself judging these emotions or experiences critically? Can you ask God to illuminate those emotions for you, showing you God’s own presence and nearness to you in those moments, even if you are feeling overwhelmed by them? See if you can try to be just a little gentler, a little bit kinder towards the emotions that are harder to hold. Remember that these too have a place in our spiritual and emotional landscapes. Can you learn to see your changing emotional landscape like the ebbs and flows of the psalms, circling always back to God’s presence? If this is hard for you, try praying along with the psalms, watching the changing emotional landscapes as you read. Look for where God might be present to the psalmist in each moment. See if you can begin to identify how God is present to you in this very moment, regardless of the emotions that mark your waiting.
Wellspring 