Chapter 5: Waiting

September 22^nd was the first Sunday I had agreed to meet Carmen for church. I remember feeling excited, yet nervous. It feels strange to meet someone who doesn’t have a cell phone, because there’s no way to communicate if one of you arrives late, or decides to cancel. It’s awkward to be stationed against a light post at the entrance to the tourist part of town, with people everywhere, staring at me standing there all alone, my arms folded.

I remember waiting for Carmen for more than 30 minutes, missing the worship at church.

This was the first of many times I would wait for her, and she wouldn’t show up. I absolutely detest uncertain situations like that. But each time I waited for Carmen, I would pray for her while I waited. God did something in the waiting. I had a peace that the waiting wasn’t in vain.

The next time I saw Carmen on the malecón during an evening run, I told her I had waited. She seemed surprised. She said she would come next time. I said it was fine, if she didn’t want to she didn’t have to. But I would love it if she did. We went over the time and place again.

Again, I waited. Again, she didn’t show.

On October 8^th, I reminisced with God, and wrote on my blog:

On October 27, 2012, I sat in the Student House of Prayer in Beavercreek, OH, during Saturday night prayer and worship.

Jen, the director’s wife, came and prayed for me:

“The wall is coming down—the door will open,” she said.

I had my own idea of what doors I wanted open in my life at that moment. I had been without a job for 3 weeks, and I was not happy with that or with certain other situations in my life, that seemed like they were at a standstill.

I left that night hoping beyond hope I had heard what I had wanted to hear—even while wondering if that was what God really wanted to tell me.

A month later, on November 30, 2012, I wrote in my journal:

The revelation I had just today as I read back through that entry, is that literally just before Jen prayed for me, I had written,

“I need You to show me how to love You tonight. And open this closed heart.”

And that was when Jen prayed,

“The wall is coming down, the door will open.”

I never made the connection before now. What if the wall is this fortress I’ve built around my heart, closing it off to pain, to compassion, to love—deep, true love for God and fellow humans. And all these revelations God has been giving me—the stars, the pastel drawings, the Ugandan woman’s prayer for me, the deer on my run, Psalm 115 written on the crossbeam in the prayer room—they’re bringing down the wall, reestablishing communion between God and I, without any idols in the way. That’s what I had just asked God to open, and that’s what He is doing.

[He’s opening the heart I’ve closed off to him and to the least of these by surrounding it with my goals, my relationships, my performance orientation. ]

“It’s not about the job I have. It’s about me and you, we’re building a relationship again”—lyrics from a Jason Upton song, Faith.

In the times of waiting, there in the D.R., God was opening my heart. Carmen was the "something else" I had been asking of God. She was forcing me to care with my heart and not just my head. She was too real to ignore, or file away in the library of statistics in my head. I couldn't just see her once, say some good words, and feel like I had accomplished something. Carmen was real, and demanded a real response. 

The torturous waiting became the proof that Carmen was worth it to God and worth it to me, even when everyone else was telling her worth was based on the fact that she could be paid for in American dollars or Dominican pesos. 

She was worth waiting on. Everything, even the unseen times of waiting, was for His glory. Even the frustrations of unfulfilled hopes and dreams for her future. 

What in the world....?!! My hopes and dreams for her future? I realized I sounded like her big sister, or her mother. And that's exactly how I felt. But they weren't her hopes and dreams. Maybe some day they would be, but that would be her decision. I knew that with a terrible certainty, but I hated it at the same time. Not being in control meant I had to take a risk, and love her no matter what happened next. That risk, that uncomfortable burden, was what God was using to pry open my heart again, to fill me to overflowing with the kind of compassion that grips your stomach and moves you to do ridiculous things in the name of love. 

Have you ever waited for someone who never showed up? You wanted to help them change, but they didn't want it themselves. But you just said, "I'll be right here waiting, when you're ready."

Maybe this is how God feels when He waits on us, to wait on Him?

Therefore the YHWH will wait, that He may be gracious to you;
And therefore He will be exalted, that He may have mercy on you.
For YHWH is a God of justice;
Blessed are all those who wait for Him. --Isaiah 30:18

That's what God is doing right now. Waiting on me, to finally get that the answer to everything, is to wait on Him. When I’m finally there, waiting together, being still with Him and knowing He is God, I will experience His mercy.