I am waiting for the ultimate product to come to the grocery store: a certified organic microwave dinner. Such a product would so exactly represent the mood of our time: we are a society that wants everything, and wants it now. We want something healthy, something tasty, but we don't have the patience for a slow home cooked meal. Everything is about speed and convenience.
When was the last time you had to deal with a slow internet connection? I get frustrated and do something else while I wait for the page to load. When was the last time you were stuck behind a driver slower than you? That happened to me today, and while I didn't voice it, I thought the guy was a slow idiot. When was the last time you allowed yourself to be bored? I take my tablet into the van-pool so that I'm always entertained.
My worth at work is measured by how much I can produce. I like my movies fast with lots of car crashes and explosions (ladies, don't roll your eyes - romantic comedies have the equivalent with their dramatic arguments and sweet talk). I race to work in my van-pool so I can race through my work day so I can race back home again. At home, I race through my chores and meal so that I can relax. About the only thing in my routine I don't race through is sleep - and I probably would race through that too if I knew how.
Compared to all this, God is painfully slow. He takes his own time, does things on his own schedule, and is big enough to know that He doesn't need everything this instant.
The other day I was out walking and talking to God (well, more talking at God). I was at a place of high emotional turmoil - things weren't going well between my wife AnnaMarie and me at that point. So, I went to God with my stress and pain. The only problem was that God's relief was not immediate. God didn't drop down a pint of feel-good in my lap that instant. Instead, He made me wait, and in the meantime I whined: "See, God, this is why I turn to other things to make me feel better - at least with them I know what I'm going to get."
Who I am spiritually is exactly the same as who I am in my everyday life: just as in my everyday life I race for instant gratification, I push for instant resolution in my spiritual walk. Just as I don't have the patience for a slow page to load, I don't have the patience for a patient God to respond. I want an instant, five minute fix for my soul's issues: I want one prayer said in five seconds to fix my marriage; I want one sermon to elucidate all of life's mysteries for me; and I want a one afternoon seminar to break all the major strongholds in my life.
But God does not work that way. God is not the God of the instant. Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying that God can't or doesn't instantly transform hearts and heal sin. I know He does. What I am saying is that even the instant transformation takes place on God's time and not ours. God is big enough to be patient.
Yet, why is God not a God of the instant? Why does God allow us to go through the pain, the uncertainty, the darkness? Why is God so patient when He doesn't have to be?
Perhaps the best place to start answering that question is to ask its inverse: why am I so impatient? Since God has promised to heal us, to clean us, to sanctify us, why am I in such a rush to get it done right now? Why do I have such a problem with waiting on God?
The only reason I can give is that I don't like the pain, the mess and the brokenness that surfaces in those times of waiting. I grew up in a good Christian home, having always gone to church and having always walked the narrow brick road. It felt good. It felt good to be able to look at myself and say: "Hey, you're a pretty good Christian. You must be in God's good books." It felt good to say: "I've done this and this and this for God. I must be a good Christian." It felt good to say: "I don't have any major issues. If only more people were like me." Being sparkling clean on the outside gave me an identity, a sense of self worth. The waiting stripped all that away.
Being a human mess is scary. Being honest about that mess is even scarier. And it is painful. When I thought I had it all together, I didn't need to look at myself nor confront my pain. When my shell falls apart, and I have to come to terms with not being everything I want to be. I have to come to terms with my failures, my baggage, and my struggles. And it is in God's waiting room that we so often find ourselves naked in our human brokenness.
I want an insta-fix, a five second prayer to sainthood. I want to keep up the illusion, at least to myself, that I am okay. I keep my life so busy so that I don't have to slow down and see what is really going on. I look to things other than God to make me feel better, because unlike God, those other things don't confront me with who I truly am.
That is why God so often does not provide instant transformation. Jesus has so much more for us in store than just a solution to our present problem. God is not a God of the instant because He is not a God of the short-term. God is not just looking to heal the mess we are in, but more so to heal the mess that we are. We want a solution to our everyday struggles: we want happy relationships; we want health; we want enough cash in the back. God wants so much more - He wants to heal our heart problems: He wants to heal the fear that causes us to sabotage our relationships; He wants to heal the pain that causes us to overeat; He wants to heal that which keeps us from having a holy relationship with money. God doesn't want to fix our symptoms and leave us dying. He wants to get at our actual core and leave us healthy. After all, Jesus came so that we may have life, and have it to the full.
And this means that we have to go through the pain. This means that we can't run from the mess that we are. This means that I need to look at my heart and come to terms with the fact that there is more fear and pettiness stored up in it than I would like to admit. We can't short-circuit the process when God wants to use that process to heal us.
God's waiting room isn't comfortable. It is a place full of tension and doubt. When I am there, I am tempted to flee the pain; when I am there, I question God's goodness and promises; when I am there, I want to skip right to the solution and not deal with the mess in between. I want to skip past the cross - past all the uncertainty and darkness and jump right to the empty tomb - to the resurrection and the glorious victory. Yet, without the cross, we have no empty tomb. Without facing the pain, the mess and the uncomfortable tension, we are never healed of the deep issues in our lives. Our healing is never deeper than our repentance.
I used to skip right to the solution. I would see some problem with myself, and instead of entering into the uneasy posture of waiting, I would try and fix myself. I would call up some good old-fashioned Christian denial and self-discipline and try and power my way to a victory. Yet, what I am finding now is that I never actually found the solution. All that happened is that I transmorphed one issue into another - it is like trying to fit a carpet that is too big into a room that is too small: the moment you push down one bump, another appears. The root cause was never addressed. It was only when I stand soul-naked before the cross that Christ's healing begins. And while God's healing is sometimes painfully slow, it is only because God is not a God of the short-term: He does not cut corners. God wants so much more for me than I do.
Have I learned to wait patiently for God's healing to arrive when He decides and not me? I would say that I am still in process. What I have learned, however, is that God is worth the wait. And now, if you'll excuse me, my microwave is beeping.