Few things can demonstrate our challenges with patience more than when we face a delay. Despite planes, trains, and cars going faster than ever before, they still cannot guarantee we will not face a delay. And it doesn’t stop with traveling. It happens any time there is something we want or believe we need and it doesn’t happen “on time” (our time).

Delay is a bold reminder that we are not in control and we don’t need to be a ‘control freak’ to struggle when we face it.

In our modern day culture we expect everything to happen quickly. The technology of our day helps create that illusion. We “instant message”, use the drive-through to pick up our Starbucks, microwave, tweet, and listen to more books than we read. All are designed to help us while we are “on the go” and to access anything and everything we need while doing so.

The problem is that technology still breaks down. We are so tied to our computers, iPads, and smart phones that we are almost helpless when they break down, a server crashes, or we lose one of them.

And it isn’t just a technology issue that creates delay. Construction barrels and detours slow us to a crawl or stop for minutes or hours. The weather’s fickle predictability (despite satellites) delays and cancels flights, trains, buses, and cruises.

More and more medical portals are designed to keep us in touch with appointments and test results that we are eager to receive, but using them is too often still a grab bag and not nearly as easy to utilize.

Vacations can reward us by disconnecting with time, but they pass too quickly and sometimes still do not release us from the grip of time.

I have experienced more than a few delays in my lifetime and have had a front row seat to others in my family who have had them as well. I recall a few years ago watching as our oldest grandson waited to receive an acceptance from a medical school that appeared to be very much delayed.

How easily we can forget (if we even know) that delays serve a purpose. The delay in our travel plans sometimes helps us avoid an accident or some other thing far worse than being later than we wish. A delay on getting a job we hoped for can sometimes mean a better offer comes through.

Delays are not new to humanity.

Long before cell phones and jet travel, speed limits and computers, humanity had to wait and face delays. The Bible shows us many examples.

An angel was delayed on the way to Daniel for 21 days. A child didn’t arrive for Sarah and Abraham until they were very old. The children of Israel were delayed in slavery in Egypt after Joseph’s death until Moses was raised up. Entering into the Promised Land was delayed 40 years. Making a list of all the delays in the Bible would be an intriguing exercise since we most struggle with delays that come from God.

When prayers are not answered, answered as we wish, or in a timely manner, everything in us can struggle with questions about God’s goodness, grace, mercy, and love for us.

One of the most poignant passages in the New Testament is told in John 11 when the close friend of Jesus (Lazarus) becomes ill and then dies. Mary and Martha, sisters of Lazarus, are in sorrow and know if Jesus had been there this would not have happened. They had seen Jesus heal others and knew He could do it.

More upsetting perhaps was that Jesus knew Lazarus was sick and delayed going to his bedside before he died.

While reading this passage I noticed a note about the passage that offers so much wisdom to the dilemma of delay:

“The discipline of delay is one of the hardest lessons we must learn as followers of Jesus, especially when it is God who does the delaying. Only grace can enable us to accept God’s rich vocabulary of answers to our earnest prayers − “yes,” “no,” “not yet,” or even “yes, but it’s going to feel like no” − because we trust that he “is able to do far more abundantly than all we ask or think.” (Eph. 2:30)

Few passages in Scripture are used to share the teaching of Jesus as often as the Sermon on the Mount. Matthew 5 opens the scene for us. Great crowds of people had followed Jesus from all around Galilee. As He saw them, He moved up into the mountain with his disciples and began to teach them. (The location of this passage is believed to be a hill in northern Israel in the Korazim Plateau.)

The teaching goes on through the seventh chapter of Matthew, but the teaching begins with what is called “the beatitudes.” They contain the essence of the Lord’s teaching, seemingly simple lessons to help us live a good life as his disciples that would lead us into everlasting life with Him.

Reading these verses reveals how difficult they are to accomplish − impossible for us − unless He is at work within us. Each “blessed” highlights the hope we have in the Lord to work in and through us if we welcome Him into our lives. Apart from that hope they also point to our fallen nature and inability to attain them.

At a time when wealth and power were in the hands of a few, the beatitudes reflect the paradox often found in the teachings of Jesus. The very qualities not revered in the current society or cultures are the ones that would result in the blessing of God.

The first of those listed − blessed are the meek − is one of the ones we fail to understand most often. The word ‘meek’ is not one often used in modern language today and when we look up the definition we see words like ‘quiet, gentle, submissive’ and unconsciously we add ‘weak’ as a descriptor in the list.

Presuming weakness is synonymous with meekness can tempt us to a lack of enthusiasm for its pursuit. Strength is a virtue we look for in others and ourselves and our faulty understanding of meekness doesn’t put it on our list of things we most desire despite it being one of the Lord’s attributes.

Meekness means laying aside striving, a stubborn refusal to accept a path we did not choose, not insisting on our own way, letting go of the imagined sense of control we have over so much of our lives.

A few years ago as we attended the college baccalaureate of our oldest grandson. The title of the sermon for this service was “The Might of Meekness.” I cannot recall a more significant sermon on this topic as the speaker challenged the graduating class and their families to look at meekness through a more accurate lens.

The impression of the message lingers on, but one sentence punctuates the theme and continues to echo in my thoughts:

“Meekness is the acceptance of the Master’s hands on the reins without fighting.”  

Rev. Rufus Smith IV

Rev. Smith repeated this sentence throughout the sermon and emphasized those last two words, “without fighting.” 

How often do we finally relent and yield to a path we did not choose? Even if we do, I suspect few of us (me included) do so “without fighting.”  Instead there are more often black heel marks for a long stretch as we resist the unchosen path before us.

That struggle exposes how tenuous our trust is. Letting go is not easy, but as I was reading something by Lisa Wingate recently, she pointed to the value of learning to do so:

“The most important skill in life is to learn the acceptance of that which you have not planned for yourself. Discontent, if watered even the slightest bit, spreads like choke weed. It will smother the garden if you let it.” 

Lisa Wingate in The Sea Keeper’s Daughter

Accepting what we did not plan for ourselves is how we operationalize what the pastor said − …”the acceptance of the Master’s hands on the reins without fighting” − and helps us cross the finish line.

The precious gift of sight is likely one of our most valued senses. Even if we are born with imperfect vision or suffer an injury of some sort, modern medicine offers a great deal of help to regain the very best vision possible.

My husband started to wear glasses in the sixth grade due to myopia. If you can’t recall what that means, it is commonly called nearsightedness and results in not being able to see things at a distance clearly. Reading a book will not be a challenge, but seeing a board in a classroom will be.

A year ago when cataracts developed and he had laser surgery, new multi-focal lenses were implanted that gave him excellent vision without glasses for the first time since early childhood. What a gift! He still sometimes reaches up for glasses that are not there.

Modern medicine can provide a wide variety of interventions to help us physically see, but there are other challenges where we can be myopic as well as what I just described.

How well we observe or note other people with whom we have contact can also show myopic tendencies.

Like it or not, most of us see the world and others from our point of view and our own experience and current situation. Empathy or lack of it describes how well we can identify what someone else is experiencing.

Comparing us or our situations to others can happen easily, but that doesn’t boost empathy even though it may result in sympathy or pride. Comparing ourselves can distort how accurately we see the other person and what they are experiencing.

If life is going well for us, we might miss the struggle someone else is encountering or minimize it. We might even make judgments about why they might be having a hard time and believe it is a result of some fault of his or hers.

If our life situation is difficult or full of struggle, all of our energy can be consumed in just getting through the day or night and we often can miss someone else’s struggle. If a person is doing well, we might miss the truth that they had a major struggle as well at some point or will.

“Hardship finds its way into every life. It’s just much easier to see our own than other people’s.”

Lisa Wingate

Lisa Wingate’s statement is one that can reveal we may be myopic.

We see a smiling man walking into church holding the hand of an adorable little boy and we think of our own life of childlessness and miss that this little boy was adopted after years of infertility and thousands of dollars spent on medical treatment that left his parents bankrupt.

We notice an older woman sitting alone in a coffee shop. She is bent now from arthritis, her clothing is out of fashion, and her shoes are scuffed and worn. We may see her as “less than” and not take time to speak to her and miss that she is a retired violinist with the local symphony who traveled the world over.

How often do we miss the powerful stories of others because we are myopic?

For as long as mankind has walked the earth and stories have been recorded we see that living is comprised of continuous change. Seasons of hardship and seasons of fruitfulness, seasons of health and seasons of illness are all a part of the deal.

“Life is a process of storms and rebuilding, of fires and regrowth, of loss and gain.”

 Lisa Wingate

Joseph was the favorite son of a patriarch and was blessed beyond measure, but his myopic brothers missed that what made him special to his father was really the loss of his beloved wife, Rachel. They missed that his exuberant descriptions of his dreams came from prophetic gifting and some inexperience with how to share them.

Esther was an orphan with no hope for a future when her Uncle Mordeci adopted her to live with him in exile. Her future looked bleak as she walked the streets of Susa in peasant clothes. Most would not have noticed her as they passed her, but when she was taken to the palace of the king to become a part of his harem her beauty and character gave her favor. She became queen and through her courage and the wise counsel of her uncle, she influenced the king to save her minority from certain destruction.

Jesus was born in a barn of common parents, but He was the Son of God who showed us who God is because He was and is God.

John Piper gave a powerful message in 1998 entitled, “Open My Eyes That I May See,” based on Psalm 119: 17-24.

The key to the mishap of myopia lies in the words of his title “open my eyes that I may see.”

Photo by Pam Ecrement

Sometimes I think I would like to be a runner and then as I consider it, I set it aside for walking.  Nonetheless, I respect and admire the diligent runners I see cranking out the miles on local trails, 5K’s, 10 milers, and marathons. The consistent discipline to build up their endurance and strength is something to be respected.

I recall when our daughter was homeschooling her oldest child and the educational requirement in their locale was to be able to run a mile. Despite never being an athlete, she decided she would teach and train herself at the same time she did so with her son. She discovered some of the benefits of running and continued to press on running 5K’s, a 10 miler, and a half marathon.

Running when trained to do so in healthy ways can offer health benefits for many when it is practiced consistently and safely.

For many of us, running is not our first choice for exercise or sport, but we all have a seemingly innate instinct to run when danger is present in any form. (We only hope our legs will carry us fast enough and far enough to avoid the impending danger.)

Sometimes we try to run from our past. We want to leave it behind us never to recall or experience any aspect of it again. Maybe it was because we were insecure and didn’t achieve. Maybe it was because we lived on ‘the wrong side of the tracks.’  Maybe it was because our family was a mess and everyone in the neighborhood knew it or maybe we had lived a life of abuse and trauma.

The problem is that we can’t really run from our past no matter how far or fast we try to run.

“You have to take it for what it is and realize it’s a part of you.”

Lisa Wingate

That doesn’t mean it needs to define who you are now or keep you from moving forward. Because of the cross and the Lord’s abundant grace and mercy, you can experience wholeness and become a vessel of beauty and love if you will stop running.

So often we run in multiple directions until we feel more lost than ever. Some of us try to do that even after we have become a Christian due to lack of a true understanding of the grace, forgiveness, and healing we are granted. The enemy can tempt us to believe that we are the exception to what we hear about grace and mercy because we are too bad, too messed up, or have failed too many times.

Those are all lies from the liar himself…Satan.

When we become a Christian and the light of Jesus then resides in us, it can be hard for others to see that light if we allow the past to continue to define us and try to keep on running.

“The trouble with drowning in the mess of your own life is that you’re not in any shape to save anyone else. You can’t be a lighthouse when you’re underwater yourself.”

Lisa Wingate

When we know we need to stop running or cease drowning, acknowledging it is the first big step. The second is to tell the Lord that we know that is true. Of course He has known it all along, but saying it to Him has more power than you may think. It’s when you start a conversation with Him (that means you listen to Him too) that He begins to set your feet in the foundation of the truth of who He has created you to be. It is then that the transformation officially gets underway. An additional important step is to seek a competent counselor to walk the path toward wholeness with us.

Can it be scary?

Yes, but not nearly so scary as the futile path you have been on. He will be with you each step of the way and He can also help you find someone who has made the journey before you to walk some of the path with you.

There is no question that life can be wonderful, amazing, beautiful, fun, and exciting, but it can also be treacherous, lonely, scary, and dangerous. God knew that after the fall in the Garden of Eden. It’s why He planned for the cross and the story of grace and mercy. It’s why Jesus said He would send the Comforter (the Holy Spirit) to help us.

It can be easy for us to prefer to stay in safe places and take no risks, but in Lisa Wingate’s book, The Prayer Box, she reminds us again of who God is:

“You are not a God of endless harbors. Harbors are for stagnant sails and barnacled wood, but for the sea…the sea is fresh rain and cleansing breeze and sleek sails. You are a God of winds and tides. Of journeys and storms and navigation by stars and faith.

You send the ships forth to serve their purpose, but you do not send them forth alone, for the sea is yours, as well.”

Lisa Wingate

Before she was your mother, she was a little girl playing peekaboo, making castles in a sandbox, standing in the middle of the room twirling in a circle and giggling as her skirt swished back and forth. She was learning to ride a bike, falling, and scraping her knees. She was chasing after fireflies on a summer night.

She was learning about how to be in the world from her dad and how to be a girl from her mother. She was learning what each expected of her and how to get her way with each of them (especially her daddy).

Before she was your mother, she was dreaming of princes and castles, singing Disney melodies, and asking others to read her another story before bed. She was curious and loved helping her mother or dad do most anything, especially licking the spoon if someone was making cookies.

She learned that it was Grandma who let her do things her mother and dad would usually not. Grandma didn’t mind if flour got spread around when cookies were being made. Grandma always had time for another story and you could count on her to have your favorite snacks on hand when you went to visit.

Before she was your mother, she developed a fair number of expectations of what her mother should be like and by her teenage years they might bump heads more than a few times about her messy room, her makeup, the length of her skirt, and how late she could stay out at night. (There would be a long list of other things if you were her son, but smelly tennis shoes and socks would be on the list.)

She saw her own mother as not being ‘in the know’ and tended to set aside some of the wisdom she was offering. She saw her mother as older than she was and couldn’t imagine she had any dreams of her own that sometimes sat on a shelf to be her mom. She couldn’t understand why her mother got upset or angry with her. She seemed old-fashioned or like she was trying to compete with her in the latest fashion trends.

Before she was your mother, she may have been abused or neglected and felt unimportant to most everyone. Her dad may have left the home before she even knew him or divorced her mom and married another woman that made no sense at all.

She may have been a great student or never seemed to be able to get the grades her parents expected. She may have been a tomboy or a ‘girlie girl.’ Perhaps she kept all her feelings inside or maybe she wore her feelings on her sleeve.

Before she was your mother, she was a little girl growing up into a teenager and then a young woman. She had interests, skills, abilities, passions, hopes, and dreams. She decided if she became a mom one day, she would do it differently than her mom or do it better somehow.

Then she did become a mother. Sometimes it happened right on schedule. Other times it interrupted the direction her life was going.

When she held you in her arms, she was changed forever.

Suddenly she was a “mother” and began to discover what that meant. She guessed about a lot of things that first time she became a mom and she also learned that her mother knew more than she understood before.

But you didn’t know her during all that time before she was your mother so you only looked at her through that lens called “mom.” When she chose to do something that was meaningful to her whether it was coffee with friends, learning to play golf, or taking an online course, it may have frustrated you if you wanted her to do something for you or just to ‘be there’ in case you called or needed something at the last minute.

At this time of year many laud and applaud the woman who is called “mother.” Most often she is celebrated, but sometimes she is set aside because she disappointed you at some point along the line even if she was not an abuser.

Sometimes those judgments come because we never knew her before she was our mother.

When I was a girl growing up and then a teenager, I saw my mother as anxious and depressed. She was quick to tears and didn’t offer a lot of encouragement. Those things were, in fact, true of her; but what I didn’t learn for a while was who she was before she was my mother.

I didn’t grasp until later what it was like for her to find her own mother often angry and depressed or to have her home burn to the ground and lose all the family possessions when she was a freshman in high school. I could not have understood what it must have felt like to have she and her two sisters and her parents all living with other people, separated from each other for many months until a new home was built.

I couldn’t recognize how her emotional losses deepened when her first baby died 24 hours after he was born or that she was not doing well and could not help make arrangements for nor attend his funeral or burial.

When I think of how we pause to think about and honor our mother on Mother’s Day, I sometimes think one of the gifts that might bless her most would be if we put on another set of lenses and saw her before the role she has played in our lives.

If we could do that, I think most of us would offer more grace, set aside more of our disappointments, and value her a bit more despite her imperfections. We would also hope if we are a mother now that our children would do that for us as well.

Before she was your mother, she was God’s creation designed to hold a special place in his Kingdom. She was a treasure chest of possibilities and you have the blessing of knowing her when she isn’t wearing makeup, when she isn’t at her best, and when she keeps trying and loves you even when you don’t think she is doing it right or you can’t love her back.

Before she was your mother, she was God’s daughter.