Come, Be Still :: Still Waters Newsletter June/July 2007

Hopefuly Waiting
by Robert Fusté

I feel rather ignorant on the topic of waiting.  I’ve grown up in and been influenced by our culture of “get it done” and “don’t just sit there – do something!”  I’ve also had a smooth life, hardly having to struggle for anything.  27 years of age doesn’t rank high on life experience either.  But I’m surprised at how hard it is for many people to “stay” with the questions that arise when waiting on God, and how frequent a lesson it continues to be, even for people I look up to as spiritual mentors.  Maybe my inner ramblings and struggles aren’t so juvenile or so rare – I think God is showing Himself to me in the midst of them.

Sarah and I have felt a longing growing within us for the last few months and years – a desire to invite others into God’s love and healing through silence, solitude and spiritual companionship.  Still Waters, nurtured by Delcy and others, has been such a blessing to us and we wish to pass it on somehow.  Our ultimate dream lately has been to be able to engage in some form of retreat work, such as leading a place like Still Waters, and have it be financially viable.  So we desire to be nurtured, mentored, and trained along the way.  We have been greatly blessed by the words and ministry of Richard Rohr, and after much thought, prayer and counsel, decided to apply for a 9-month internship at the Center for Action and Contemplation (CAC) that he established in New Mexico.  This has meant that Sarah has tearfully closed her journey as a 6-year university French professor (main financial provider since marriage), I am downgrading my workload as a webdesigner, and we need to rent out our home to make it feasible.  Lastly, if we are to be accepted for the internship, it also means returning home after 9 months with uncertainty about future employments.

Needless to say, according to the little bubble of reality we live in, we feel like we’ve taken some significant risks with our decision.  But a growing excitement and our best attempt at discernment led us to take the leap.  We made sure to apply early in order to hear back from the CAC as soon as possible, and we had some leads on renting the house.  That was 3 months ago.  Since then, we haven’t been able to rent out our basement apartment for 2 months, our upstairs house still doesn’t have solid leads for rental, and the CAC hasn’t replied yet.

Did I (we) make the right choice?  Why hasn’t God come through after the step of faith I took?  Am I just not praying and trusting enough?  I started this journey with high levels of hope that we were following God’s will, trusting the dreams that were giving us life.  And now I feel a little numb – don’t want to think about it. This uncaring attitude leaves me empty, though – disconnected from God, from reality, from what is.  And I read in the scriptures about hope, about waiting on the Lord, and that I’m invited to actively – hopefully – wait upon the Lord and He will bless me indeed. 

When I shared the journey with my spiritual director, he affirmed my struggles and doubts all as a searching after God.  But then I found myself complaining about how hard it is to be hopeful in the waiting. It seems like so much is on the line this time, and I’m naturally a risk-aversive person. He then asked a direct question:  “Does God owe you a positive answer?”  Finding it harder to sustain his gaze, I realized that my efforts hadn’t gained me any merit.  The fact that I had risked so much in faith didn’t mean God owed me anything! 

Thank God for Christian community!  It was hard to have someone witness my ear finally hearing God’s still voice saying, “It doesn’t matter whether you get accepted to the CAC and get the house rented out or if you end up staying in Berrien Springs and losing money too – the hope I give you is that my plans are the best for you, so you’re going to get the best no matter what!” My hope doesn’t rest on whether I am praying according to His will, but that His will is perfect for me. 

That said, though, it’s still tough to wait and hope, especially with so much sadness in this world.  How do I resolve the tension of praying for the starving in this world, even though so many will perish tonight? A song by Christian vocal artist Nichole Nordeman depicts this tension beautifully:

So grant us peace, Jesus, grant us peace
Move our hearts to hear a single beat
Between alibis and enemies tonight
Or maybe not, not today
Peace might be another world away
And if that's the case ...

We'll give thanks to You with gratitude
For lessons learned in how to trust in You
That we are blessd beyond what we could ever dream
In abundance or in need
And if You never grant us peace ...
But, Jesus, would You please ...


That last line catches me – But, Jesus, would You please.  God may not grant us our wishes, but we still long to ask.

I will still probably doubt, fall back on self-reliance.  And my desires need much transformation before becoming His desires.  But today I’m consciously aware that I’m not in control of the future, let alone picking the best future for me – and that gives my soul peace.  God wants my desires more than my perfect discernment.  If I yearn after Him and His will, He will transform my desires and will – in this particular journey and in ones to come.  And that hope gives me courage to keep waiting.

My Lord God,
            I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain
            Where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
            And the fact that I think
            I am following your will
            Does not mean that
            I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire
            To please you
            Does, in fact, please you.
And I hope I have that desire
in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this
            You will lead me by the right road,
            Though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore, I will trust you always
            Though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear,
            For you are ever with me,
            And you will never leave me
            To face my perils alone.
  

 

- Thomas Merton

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