Waiting on Zion

By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.

How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?

— Psalm 137:1-4


The best kind of hope, and waiting, is the kind that comes in so hard you have to catch your breath, because it’s at once exactly what you needed, yet you didn’t know how much you were waiting for it until it was there in a rush.

I’m waiting for that ultimate fulfillment of hope and waiting, and because I’ve seen it before, I won’t settle for less. I’ve experienced it only in small doses — the nights when the puzzle pieces link together to make wisdom in my head, the days when an opportunity drops from the sky, the times a clear path opens before me where only thistles lived before. Or those moments when I remember I’ve been wanting to call a friend, and I have a minute, and I call, and I suddenly remember what it’s like to be talking to someone who understands you completely, who thinks the best of you completely, who laughs with you completely. In it comes, that rush, and you feel silly for all the times you pushed it off, thinking life couldn’t be beautiful.

People want to know why I haven’t been writing, or when I’ll write again. I don’t write for the same reasons the Israelites hung up their harps.

But then there’s hope, and faith. Faith is believing things can be different. Faith is believing that no matter how many times something has turned out one way, you will get up the next morning looking for it to change. Faith is choosing to live even when life seems to have no purpose, praying for rain when the only clouds are the ones in your heart.

I’m not sure I have anything to say, or whether there are words to describe the thoughts I think are worth passing on. But I know the best way to keep hope alive is to share it — to recite the promises you’ve seen come true, to call the friend who reminds you that the God you have loved and love is not far off, to sing the songs through tears in a strange land.

Romans 5:5 says we shouldn't be ashamed to hope because we have God's love.

So I’ll write to remember God’s love, my only hope. Perhaps it will expedite the rush for all others who are marooned, wandering, stuck, broken, or just waiting.

Perhaps it will bring my rain.