Here I am, again. I look around and feel an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. Haven’t I been here before? Haven’t I spent enough nights, tossing questions and doubts through the caverns of my mind? I thought I had done my time on this island, looking out at the vastness of the unknown. Sure, the circumstances are different, but the whirlwind of emotions feel oh-so-familiar.
Yet, here I am. Again. Waiting.
As I sit here with my candid thoughts and fervent emotions spilling forth from within, You’re reminding me so gently of this – but, dear one, we have a history together.
And then I remember. How those many quiet moments of desperation led me back into Your presence. How stubbornness got the best of me and brought me low, lower and deeper into raw conversation with You.
The fog begins to clear and I can see glimpses of truth.
How waiting turns into relationship when my fears are melted in the vastness of Your love. How waiting turns into joy when I experience the breaking in of Your light onto my darkened soul. How waiting seasons my heart, refining my character and burning away the too many unnecessary things.
See, there’s a history of waiting between You and me.
And so, I declare what I know to be impossible to say by my own strength. I will remember You. I will sing of Your great love and mercy. I will declare Your faithfulness, goodness, and kindness to me, one so undeserving.
So I wait…with hope and expectation.
Because You are Immanuel God. And that’s all I need to remember.