Waiting for my real life to begin

When I started this blog (nearly 3 years ago) I talked about 'serving with broken hands' - you can read it here:

Broken Hands - an introduction

I talked about how in a number of seasons in my life I had managed to damage my left hand - specifically before I was married and before I was ordained. At the time I reflected that perhaps God was teaching me through the realities of my human failings that I really cannot 'do' being ordained, just like I can not 'do' marriage, in my own strength - but only through the grace and power of God. 

Well folks, my hand is broken again - a few days ago our toddler had an accident in the middle of the night, which - without giving too much detail meant at 3am I needed to wash my feet. In an attempt to not wake my wife (the only thing which was successful that evening) I managed to break our bathroom sink, and in attempting (and failing) to fix it, now have a rather deep and painful cut, once again on my left hand.

Perhaps the real lesson I need to learn is that I'm no where near as practically minded as I think I am. (Thanks to Ed who fixed the sink for us - at a social distance, obviously).

I posted on Sunday (just a few days ago) about how, at the moment, I'm not really worrying too much about our future and know that God has it in hand. All that is true and I'm not about to issue a retraction - I still know the peace which comes from knowing that I can trust God - but I've been reflecting further for these few days since.

These times are strange - if one more person on the news tells me they are unprecedented I may have to throw something at the television - which, in itself, would be unprecedented I guess...

For some these are really hard times, for our wonderful NHS, for those ensuring we can eat, have water and electricity, have safe streets and our rubbish collected (to name but a few) - they are not only busier than ever, but also literally involve them putting their lives at risk each and each day. It is right that we thank them by clapping each week, and we must find ways of thanking them with more than just applause when we can.

But for the rest of us, or at least for me, it can feel like the world has come to a stop - that we aren't really going anywhere, or doing anything. As an example, my university have decided that I don't need to to submit an essay for my current module - I will simply have been deemed to have passed it without assessment - like, somehow these next three months don't really 'count'. 

I doubt many of you know the song 'Waiting for my real life to begin' by Colin Hay (his band, Men at Work, wrote 'I come from a land down under', don't let that put you off). You can listen to it here. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQBHPn9sDfY  It's not a worship song and I don't think Colin Hay is a Christian.

His second verse says:

When I awoke today, suddenly nothing happened

But in my dreams, I slew the dragon

And down this beaten path, up this cobbled lane

I'm walking in my old footsteps, once again

I don't want to give you the impression I'm not doing anything, that without a church to be curating (that's a word) in I'm sat at home waiting for the phone to ring. Quite the opposite, I had expected this term to be a quiet one as we prepared to move - it is, in fact, busier than ever. But yet, even amongst the 'stuff', I resonate with those words 'suddenly, nothing happened' - and certainly 'I'm walking in my old footsteps, once again'.

In a very real sense at the moment we are waiting - waiting for this whole thing to be over, waiting for normality, or some semblance of it to return, waiting to see loved ones or even just to nip to Tesco at 10pm for chocolate because you have none in the house and you really want it (a regular pre-lockdown occurrence in our house). 

As I've been thinking about my poor, broken hand some more  today, I think God wants to speak to me through it again.

Each time it's been broken in the past, I've been on the edge of something, something big, something that's needed a lot of work or attention - something that it would be easy to get lost in and rely only on my own strength.

This is, perhaps, the opposite experience. There is no big thing for me to do (I'm not a medic and would be rubbish at producing a vaccine) there is no project, no exciting adventure around the corner for me to be distracted by. Right now, I have to wait:

As I write, I'm reminded of Psalm 40, some selected verses (you can read the rest here)

I waited patiently for the Lord;
he turned to me and heard my cry.

Blessed is the one

who trusts in the Lord,

Many, Lord my God

are the wonders you have done,

the things you planned for us.

None can compare with you;

were I to speak and tell of your deeds,

they would be too many to declare.

I think the Lord wants me to remember today that it's not just in the busyness, or the exciting adventures that it's easy to lose sight of him - but also in the waiting.

I quoted the ordination service in my first blog when the bishop says "You cannot bear the weight of this calling in your own strength, but only by the grace and power of God."

I have never believed those words are just true of those of us with a dog collar - it's perhaps even more true, that we all need the grace and power of God in this time of waiting.

Paul Gooder has written an excellent book called 'The Meaning in the Waiting' - you can find it on Amazon here.

She talks about waiting in life being like a pregnancy and the desire that a pregnant couple have for the baby to be born, and to be through with the boring waiting bit. But, if we think about it, in reality, no one who is pregnant wants the waiting to end too soon and for the baby to come early. 

Sometimes this period of waiting can seem passive to the outsider, but internally it’s extremely active. In those 9 months, HUGE amounts are going on, both physically as the child grows, but emotionally in the mother and father as they prepare for their child’s timely arrival.

If we allow ourselves to think about these seasons of waiting in these terms, then it may become less about passing the time between the moments, and more about the deep and lasting value of the time itself. 

David says in this Psalm that he waits patiently for the Lord, he trusts the Lord, and he reflects on the many wonders He has done. 

And so, Colin Hay - much as I love you and your music - it's time for me to learn the lesson of my broken hand and perhaps more importantly of David - and once again to find value in this time - to wait patiently for the Lord, and to reflect again on His many wonders.