This is Your Obligatory (Almost) December Post about Waiting

            It’s got a catchy title and everything. Wait, wait, wait—that’s what it’s all about! Now, if only I could actually follow my own advice...

            I’m writing this on a Tuesday morning when I have a dozen things that need to get done in the next several hours and there’s not enough time for any of it. Waiting is not an issue; actually, I need more time. I expect I'm not the only one feeling this way. This is my least favorite time of the year and it really isn’t close, because as much as people want to talk about the exciting hustle and bustle of the malls and the lights and the Christmas music, I’m mostly overwhelmed and uncomfortable being out in any of it. Oh, how I wish I could just read a book by a fire, but instead every day brings another list of things to do.

            Probably you have some combination of hockey and basketball games, Christmas concerts, shopping and travel in this season; possibly you have all of the above. So much stuff. I don’t mind being busy, but it’s kind of ruining the point of the season. For as much as anti-consumerist-minded Christians have chimed “Jesus is the reason for the season” over and over again, the reality of Advent is that it actually has nothing to do with Jesus—at least not yet. It’s a time of waiting and anticipation; hence the title: “Your obligatory (almost) December post about waiting.”

            But the problem isn’t just that we’re terrible at waiting. The problem is that there is no time to wait, because there is no time to waste—or so it seems... or so we’re told.

            Martin Luther once said, “I have so much to do that I shall spend the first three hours in prayer.”

            I think that’s probably as good as any advice I can give. We are so terrible at managing time; so horrible at actual, true efficiency; that we have to get back to the root of where we draw our energy. Whether explicitly in prayer or implicitly in time spent in silence, this is the time of year to sit in the quiet and relax.

            I know, I know. Tell that to relatives and to mall crowds and to all the people who get in the way. I know, I know. It’s ludicrous. Near-sighted. Nobody really acts that way anymore. But before you do any of that--before you go blaming others and forces outside of your control--what you should do first is tell it to yourself. Seriously. This is the time of year to sit and breathe, especially because so many around you won’t be.

            I know it’s tough. I have a funeral to plan. I have articles to write. I have a list of shut-ins to visit. I have a wife to love, a house to clean, dogs to take care of, groceries to buy, sports to attend, emails to answer, meetings to organize, and people keep getting in the way!

            …until I realize that my job is people. My job is prayer. And so is yours. So, here’s a piece of advice that Martin Luther was dead right about: The more rushed you feel, the more time you need to take in prayer. Or, if praying really isn’t your thing, take that time to sit in silence. If you think you have a minute, take five. If you think you have ten seconds, take ten minutes. If you think you have no time at all, take an hour. It will be the best way to spend your time, I guarantee it.

            If nothing else it will remind you what it means to wait.