We adopted this little animal rescue dog from Hartwell last year. It is definitely my wife’s dog.
When Susan leaves, Charlie, that’s the little dog’s name, stands by the door waiting, listening watching, full of attention and longing. She just sits there, waiting for Susan to return.
Waiting.
It is a holy thing.
Waiting for those we love. Longing for them. Missing them. Slowly letting go as they slip away.
Living with a part of us missing, out of sort, incomplete.
There is a certain kind of waiting that Mothers carry with them.
The life of faith at its heart has that holy waiting, waiting for holiness, waiting for God, waiting for resurrection, waiting for the Holy Spirit that breathes life into all flesh, brooding over creation.
Waiting for healing and completeness.
We are in the Resurrection season. We celebrate the presence of Jesus as the Risen Lord. And one of the first things that Jesus says in the resurrection accounts in John’s Gospel, to Mary Magdalene, is to not hold on to him, he has yet to ascend.
Get used to being filled with longing for the one who completes us.
Get used to waiting.
This Sunday is unusual. We are between Ascension and Pentecost. Jesus has ascended, he has left, and we are told to wait for the Holy Spirit.
Departure and waiting for the arrival.
We are a people of longing. Awaiting the Holy Spirit to send us forth in Mission, awaiting the great Resurrection Day, awaiting the return of Jesus who fills all things, completes all things.
We have not arrived. We don’t live like that. We live awaiting completion.
Waiting for things to get better. That’s pretty much it.
The endurance that is hope, knowing that there is more, it just isn’t yet.
Working, waiting, enduring, hoping, longing expecting for what and who is missing to return.
Like a puppy, waiting at the door.
Never give up that hope and longing.
So much of life is about saying goodbye and letting go and losing and grieving. Loss can wear us down. The inevitable trauma of living can erode our capacity to take the risk that is love, the risk that cares.
This in-between time of waiting strengthens us to never give up, to never give in to indifference, to never give up on love and the risk that comes with caring.
Living with longing. I wonder if God is filled with longing, the fullness of longing, completely filled to the top and runneth-ing over with waiting.
There is a certain kind of waiting that God carries.
God waits at the door, full of longing, never giving up on us, always risking love, always turning the trauma that erodes at life into the surprise of resurrection.
Waiting for the great Resurrection day, when all that is love rises from the dust of the earth, alive like never before.
What are we waiting for?
Be filled to the top, runneth over with holy waiting.