Standing, Waiting

‘When I consider how my light is spent, ere half my days, in this dark world and wide

And that one Talent which is death to hide lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present my true account, lest he returning chide;

“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need either man’s work or his own gifts; who best

Bear his mild yoke they serve him best. His state is Kingly.

Thousands at his bidding speed and post o’er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait.”’ – John Milton, ‘Sonnet 19’

Minister I listen to regularly, like a few hours a week regularly, often mentions an encounter with God he experienced in 1968, how for several months he was “gone somewhere”, so caught up in understanding of God’s love for him that he hardly slept more than an hour or two at a stretch, ate only enough to sustain himself, hardly noticing he was eating.

That experience has been a cornerstone for what is right now a celebrated, 55-year ministry touching millions of lives around the world.

A student in his bible college asked this man “Do you ever doubt that experience? Doubt that it was real?”

In a very gracious response that, to double down on the graciousness AW mentioned in one of his own teachings that any who hear it might be blessed by, he responded “Every day.”

Every day.

God has been so faithful, in this season and every other in my life. He has proved Himself over and over and over and I’m not asking Him to do so again, lately if I ‘put a fleece out’ (see Judges 6) it’s for direction, not for God to prove anything to me. He needs never prove anything to me.

But it’s still mildly frustrating that I must keep continually course correcting. That the needle moves off true throughout the day. That the ‘living sacrifice’ He’s called me to offer keeps, well, crawling off the altar.

All the same when I do start to wonder, when His list of faithful promises seems faded, like maybe I’m just kidding myself about all this, and to sit here not pursuing agents, not pursuing film producers, not working on the next writing project so I’m at least doing something…

He is always always always faithful to remind me that I’m on track. Right where He wants me.

For example a writing friend and spouse, who have been missionaries in a foreign land for some decades. Who had told me, as recently as a few weeks ago, that the chances of ever coming home were slim to none. Who had, if I’m telling the story right and I’ll print a retraction if not, kind of resigned themselves to living on the other side of the world until they were called Home. Even considering aging parents, this friend said “an emergency plane ticket” fund was the most they had found faith to put together.

That same couple will be back here anytime now, if they haven’t landed in the States by the time I write this.

They were hoping just to be able to visit, for the sake of others, and in the last seven days God arranged, beyond any expectation on their part, a miracle that has brought them home. To stay.

Remembering that He does that, things out of nowhere that we hadn’t even imagined possible, was encouragement this week.

As was the following, taken from excellent book ‘Me, Myself and Bob’ by Phil Vischer, recounting the rise (and fall) of VeggieTales.

‘I couldn’t believe my ears. They still weren’t willing to put any money into my talking vegetables—even after seeing Bob and Larry talk and hearing Mike and me hum “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” What more did they need? I drove back home confused and depressed. To make matters worse, all the time I had put into producing that film was time that hadn’t gone into generating any revenue. I didn’t have any money to pay Mike, so I told him he should probably start looking for work elsewhere. Several family members advised me to do the same. Mike found a job at another production company, and I found myself working alone once again.

A week or two later, I was sitting at the kitchen table in our small loft apartment assessing our finances. Things looked really bad. Our checking account was overdrawn. We were late on rent. I had no leads on VeggieTales and no leads on new commercial jobs. In my wallet was a ten-dollar bill. That was it. All the money we had in the world.

“We’re out of dog food.”

“What?” I turned to see who had spoken. It was my wife.

“We’re out of dog food,” she said again. Oh, great. A twenty-five pound bag of Purina was about ten dollars. I looked at the ten-dollar bill in my wallet and looked at our dog, Max. He looked hungry. Reluctantly, I handed the bill to my wife, who headed for the store, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The apartment was still and dark. Our daughter, Shelby, now eighteen months old, was sleeping in the next room. I couldn’t afford to give her health insurance. I couldn’t afford to pay her rent. Now I didn’t even know how I would feed her.

“You fool,” a voice inside me said. “Look at what a mess you’ve made. No one can rely on you. You can’t even take care of your family. And for what? This stupid kids’ show dream? This thing you think God told you to do?” My eyes welled up with tears as the doubt grew louder. “What if you were wrong all along? What if all this wasn’t from God? What if all this was just your idea? Just you? Man, would that ever make you the fool of the year!”’

Not sure why exactly this passage struck me so forcefully. Not like I was possibly potentially having these exact same thoughts about my own vision, my own dreams, as I was reading.

‘For the first time, I doubted. For the first time, I wondered if perhaps I had made the whole thing up. My “call”—everything. “God,” I called out, “tell me this isn’t just me—tell me you’re in this, too!”

A friend stopped by. He noticed the desperate look on my face and asked what was wrong. I told him about our state, and he immediately pulled out his wallet and offered me everything he had. “No, thank you,” I heard myself say. Something told me this wasn’t the answer I needed. My friend left. I turned back to the stack of mail on the table in front of me, looking for something to distract me from the screaming doubt. Bill. Bill. Bill. Wait…what’s that?

There was a letter tucked among the bills, hand-addressed to us, with no return address. I opened it. Inside was a cashier’s check for $400, with a handwritten, unsigned note that simply said, “God laid it on my heart that you might need this.”

My heart stopped. Four hundred dollars wasn’t necessarily going to turn our lives around, but the message was crystal clear.’

Just for the record, my kids have health insurance. The dog has food. The family is not in crisis and this is not a plea for help. Though the burden of the finances has been on my wife’s job as I pursue a full-time dream that has, to date, earned us roughly ten dollars a year over the past six years God has blessed us tremendously. We’re okay.

‘God was there in the room, at the table, with me. He was with me in my darkest hour, when voices were screaming “Give up! This isn’t God, it’s just you, fool!” There he was. Sitting beside me at the black laminate table in our loft apartment as my daughter slept in the next room and my wife hunted for dog food with our last ten dollars—God was there, quietly whispering, “I’m with you. Don’t give up.”

That wasn’t the end of our “hard times,” of course. We had many more crises to face, and we still do. But since that day, I have never once doubted that God has called me to use my gifts for him, and that he will supply whatever resources I need in his perfect timing.

And I will never give up.’

Phil speaks for me. Not that I can claim I’ll never doubt again, the wind and the waves crop up at times and the ship needs regular course correction.

But I know that I know that I know that I’m right where He wants me and for all it looks in the natural like nothing happened again this week, in the Real we’re a week closer to whatever He’s planning

and I wouldn’t be anywhere else.

Rule of three being what it is, not unreasonable if anyone reading is wondering if I have one more example of God’s encouragement.

Of course I do.

One morning this week, might have been Wednesday, I woke up with Ephesians 6:13 in my ears.

‘Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.’ (NIV)

After having done everything.

Two weeks into I don’t have anything to write besides a weekly blog post and this is only coming out of my fingers because I wanted to; had something to say…

I’m not pursuing agents and not pursuing film producers and not trying to kick doors down and not even working on a novel or screenplay or Sarcastic Fairy Tale

because God said if I wanted His best to let Him handle such things

so it could be argued that this week at least I’ve done everything.

Except stand

And wait.

Like I say that verse bounded up the stairs and wrapped itself around my neck, I received it, reminded myself of it as I went into my day.

That minister I mentioned earlier, the one who was willing to admit his heart doubting “every day” the hand of God in his life over the course of a fifty-five year ministry?

I put on, that same morning, one of his sermons in a series about Staying Positive in a Negative World

and darned if he didn’t, in the course of that message,

mention Ephesians 6:13.

‘They also serve who only stand and wait.’

Never worked so hard in my life and I’ve also never had so much fun.

Wouldn’t be anywhere else, Best Beloved.

Not anywhere.

Don’t forget to write