Waiting...

This has been the most significant word for me, in the last few days.

Audrey was talking to me about the prospect of starting a Christian Fellowship in her college, but at the moment they attend the gatherings at CampusCity, so the need hasn't really materialised yet. "Will continue to pray about it," she said in an e-mail to me.

I was reminded of a passage from J.M. Coetzee's Life & Times of Michael K, of which I'm 75% through, which reads,

[Michael] did not know what was going to happen. The story of his life had never been an interesting one; there had usually been someone to tell him what to do next; now there was no one, and the best thing seemed to be to wait.

A day later or so, the idea of waiting returned to me, and this time I was reminded of U2's haunting take on Psalm 40:

I waited patiently for the Lord
He inclined and heard my cry
He brought me up out of the pit
Out of the miry clay.

I will sing, sing a new song
I will sing, sing a new song
How long to sing this song?
How long to sing this song?
How long, how long, how long
How long to sing this song?

The only encouragement I have in waiting, is knowing that seeds do push out of the ground; plants do emerge even if it takes longer than long. Winter has been followed by spring since time immemorial, and I try not to forget that.