The Right Time

Early morning reflections on a new book are making sense of my past two or three years. A book I could not have digested then makes sense now. I received it at the right time.

Eugene Peterson, author of the famed "Message" version of the Holy Bible, has written "Leap Over A Wall" about Old Testament David, the infamous shepherd and giant killer, adulterer and murderer, King of the Jews and friend of God. Peterson describes the wilderness to which David ran and for possibly ten years inhabited while Saul was stalking him.

This wilderness is barren and cold, with only scarce comfort or provision. David made it his home, when nothing else was available. He LIVED with it. How many times have I said, "God why do I have to LIVE WITH THIS?!" to which God has replied, "but are you REALLY living with it?"

Past posts will show that I felt I endured a long "wilderness" through much of 2008-10. I could not understand people and events happening around me, and I felt no comfort, and barely any provision. That scarcity forced me to depend on the little I had, the promise of a better day. And it came, at the right time.

Peterson demonstrates that wilderness is something to embrace, that loneliness can take one deeper into himself than a hectic life will allow, into the quiet of scarcity. Just as God spoke in the still, small voice to Moses, he speaks to me. Still I can only hear it when I turn everything OFF.

My most recent wilderness has been the lonely solitude of an empty house. I have accepted fewer teaching positions in 2011 because, with the difficult economy, I felt others supporting families or beginning careers needed jobs much more than I. The solitude has been difficult, to say the least, even maddening, and yet it seemed right, first to get me caught up on the less desirable tasks of home, and then for my own renewal and strengthening. One morning God awakened me with the quote from Isaiah, "in quietness and confidence shall be your strength." (Isaiah 30:15) I wondered if possibly I needed to embrace this rather than fight it.

It is still a wilderness to me, scant and cold, but not barren. It's pregnant, with hope, opportunity, and means. I now can listen, care, and pray for people and causes which before only touched my heart. I can take opportunity to touch them, and I have utilized ways, or means, of aiding people, whereas this tug was formerly assuaged with an end-of-the-year contribution or "gift". Peterson notes that, in an age where so much is written about self-fulfillment, society is most self-absorbed, or selfish.

The wilderness of my past was painful, but it could have been pregnant. Others had passed through before me, and knew there was hope. The hope lay within the wilderness, but I thought it lay without. I wasn't ready to listen to anyone's voice.

So now, at the right time, I see . . . better . . . the opportunity that lies around me. Help, and then hope, comes at the right time.