It happened in March. Now it's September.
At first people asked how you were doing. Then they asked whether there was any news. Now they don't ask anymore, and you can't be angry with them. There hasn't been any news in a long time.
The pain is still there, but it's no longer the hardest part. The hardest part is that you don't have a word for the place you're in.
You're out of the crisis itself. Everyone knows what happened in March. You're not over it either. You're somewhere in between, where nothing happens. If someone asked you tonight what was wrong, you wouldn't know what to answer. Nothing has happened, after all.
The word you get
What you're standing in isn't a gap between two things that matter. It's a kind of time the Bible knows better than anyone has told you.
Waiting time is not wasted time.
It sounds like something printed on a mug. Stay with me, because the Bible says it in a way no mug can.
Two years go by in three words
Joseph is sitting in an Egyptian prison for something he didn't do. He meets Pharaoh's cupbearer in there, interprets his dream, and asks him for one thing:
"When things go well for you again, please remember me and put in a good word for me with Pharaoh, so I can get out of here." (Genesis 40:14)
That's a man's only chance, said out loud.
The chapter's last verse reads:
"The cupbearer, however, forgot all about Joseph in the prison." (Genesis 40:23)
And then the next chapter begins:
"Two years later Pharaoh dreamed one night that he was standing on the bank of the Nile." (Genesis 41:1)
Two years later. Three words, and on with the story.
The Bible skips the two years, because nothing happened in them. Joseph didn't skip them. He lived 730 days in a row where he woke with the same thought: today word might come. But no word came.
If you've been looking for a place in the Bible that resembles your autumn, there it is. It just takes up three words. Exactly like when someone asks how you've been since March, and you say: oh, thanks, getting by.
One word in the psalm
Many hundreds of years later Israel sings about that man, and the song does something Joseph couldn't do himself. It says how long it lasted:
"In prison his feet were put in chains, an iron collar was placed around his neck, until his prophecy was fulfilled, and it proved that the Lord had spoken true." (Psalm 105:18-19)
Until.
The psalm doesn't explain the chains away. They were iron. They were real, and they sat around the neck of a young person who hadn't deserved them. The psalm only says that they had an end, and that God knew it, while Joseph didn't know what the future would bring.
You can't see your until. That's the whole problem with standing in the middle of it. But there's a difference between a sentence you can't see the end of, and a sentence that has no end.
He waited on purpose
Then there's one last thing. It matters if you suspect that God has forgotten you, the way the cupbearer did.
Jesus got word that his friend Lazarus was gravely ill. John writes two sentences one right after the other:
"Jesus loved Martha, Mary and Lazarus dearly." (John 11:5)
"So when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed where he was two more days." (John 11:6)
Notice the order. John could have switched them around. He puts the love first and the waiting right after, as if the one doesn't contradict the other.
Two days. On purpose. He was neither busy nor indifferent, and he wept when he finally arrived.
That doesn't make your waiting shorter. It tells you what the waiting isn't. It isn't a measure of how deeply you're loved.
Let me say the most important thing about your waiting again, so you catch it. It isn't a measure of how deeply you're loved. You truly have worth and are loved forever.
What you do in a long waiting and middle stretch
Notice what Joseph didn't do in those two years.
He didn't stage a prison break, and he didn't go on a hunger strike. He didn't remake himself to earn his way out either. He kept a prison. He got up in the morning and did what the day asked of him. That was enough.
In my own study I've found a whole section on patience as a virtue. The miracle that hasn't come yet is read as a small picture of all creation's unresolved waiting. ("Pentecostalism and the Virtue of Patience", in Perspectives in Pentecostal Eschatologies: World without End, pp. 241-243)
So you're not behind in faith because you're waiting. You're doing exactly the same as everything else God has made.
And if you're carrying a bad conscience because you're not fighting enough or believing enough right now, then it isn't the Bible that gave it to you. You don't fight your way out of a middle stretch. You live in it.
What you can do tonight
Find the date. The day it began. Write it on a piece of paper, and write today's date next to it.
Then work out the days. Really work them out, with a calculator.
Say the number out loud, and say one sentence after it: "It's been 180 days, and it isn't wasted time."
Then do one more thing. Choose something you won't get to tonight. Something you've been carrying a bad conscience about not managing. Let it lie until tomorrow, and let it lie on purpose, like the two days in John.
How long have you waited?
Joseph's two years ended on a morning he hadn't seen coming. The evening before, it was just another evening in a prison. I'm not promising you that yours ends on Thursday. I'm saying that he couldn't see where in the story he was standing. And that it said until in God's version of it.
Find a community. A place where someone notices you weren't there on Sunday. It's easier to find before you need it. And it's entirely possible to find in the middle of needing it.
And if you call someone who's in the waiting time, don't bring anything. Not an answer. Not even a question. Just be there. Say you were thinking of your friend, and say you'll call again next week. And then call.
That's what turns waiting time into something other than wasted time. Not that something finally happens. That there's someone who is still there.
Det skete i marts. Nu er det september.
Til at begynde med spurgte folk, hvordan du havde det. Så spurgte de, om der var nyt. Nu spørger de ikke længere, og du kan ikke være vred på dem. Der har ikke været noget nyt i lang tid.
Smerten er der stadig, men den er ikke længere det sværeste. Det sværeste er, at du ikke har et ord for stedet, du befinder dig.
Du er ude af selve krisen. Alle ved, hvad der skete i marts. Du er heller ikke ovre den. Du er et sted midt imellem, hvor der ikke sker noget. Spurgte nogen dig i aften, hvad der var galt, ville du ikke vide, hvad du skulle svare. Der er jo ikke sket noget.
Ordet, du får med
Det, du står i, er ikke et hul mellem to ting, der betyder noget. Det er en slags tid, Bibelen kender bedre, end nogen har fortalt dig.
Ventetid er ikke spildtid.
Det lyder som noget, der står på et krus. Bliv hos mig, for Bibelen siger det på en måde, intet krus kan.
Der går to år på tre ord
Josef sidder i et egyptisk fængsel for noget, han ikke har gjort. Han møder Faraos mundskænk derinde, tyder hans drøm og beder ham om én ting:
"Når det så går dig godt igen, vil jeg bede dig om at huske mig og lægge et godt ord ind for mig hos Farao, så jeg kan komme ud herfra." (1 Mos 40,14 — BPH)
Det er en mands eneste chance, sagt højt.
Kapitlets sidste vers lyder:
"Mundskænken glemte imidlertid alt om Josef i fængslet." (1 Mos 40,23 — BPH)
Og så begynder det næste kapitel:
"To år senere drømte Farao en nat, at han stod på Nilens bred." (1 Mos 41,1 — BPH)
To år senere. Tre ord, og så videre i historien.
Bibelen springer de to år over, fordi der ikke skete noget i dem. Josef sprang dem ikke over. Han levede 730 dage i træk, hvor han vågnede med den samme tanke: i dag kommer der måske besked. Men der kom ikke besked.
Har du ledt efter et sted i Bibelen, der ligner dit efterår, så står det der. Det fylder bare tre ord. Præcis som når nogen spørger, hvordan du har haft det siden marts, og du siger: jo tak, det går.
Ét ord i salmen
Mange hundrede år senere synger Israel om den mand, og salmen gør noget, Josef ikke selv kunne gøre. Den siger, hvor længe det varede:
"I fængslet blev hans fødder lagt i lænker, om halsen fik han en ring af jern, indtil hans profeti blev opfyldt, og det viste sig, at Herren talte sandt." (Sl 105,18-19 — BPH)
Indtil.
Salmen bortforklarer ikke lænkerne. De var af jern. De var virkelige, og de sad om halsen på et ungt menneske, der ikke havde fortjent dem. Salmen siger bare, at de havde en afslutning, og at Gud kendte den, mens Josef ikke vidste, hvad fremtiden ville bringe.
Du kan ikke se dit indtil. Det er hele problemet med at stå midt i det. Men der er forskel på en sætning, du ikke kan se enden på, og en sætning, der ikke har nogen afslutning.
Han ventede med vilje
Så er der en sidste ting. Den er vigtig, hvis du har mistanke om, at Gud har glemt dig, ligesom mundskænken gjorde.
Jesus fik besked om, at hans ven Lazarus var dødssyg. Johannes skriver to sætninger lige efter hinanden:
"Jesus holdt meget af Marta, Maria og Lazarus." (Joh 11,5 — BPH)
"Efter at have fået beskeden, blev han endnu to dage dér, hvor han var" (Joh 11,6 — BPH)
Læg mærke til rækkefølgen. Johannes kunne have byttet om på dem. Han sætter kærligheden først og ventetiden lige efter, som om det ene ikke modsiger det andet.
To dage. Med vilje. Han var hverken optaget eller ligeglad, og han græd, da han endelig kom frem.
Det gør ikke din ventetid kortere. Det fortæller dig, hvad ventetiden ikke er. Den er ikke en måling af, hvor højt du er elsket.
Jeg gentager lige, så du fanger det vigtigste i din ventetid. Den er ikke en måling af, hvor højt du er elsket. Du har virkelig værdi og er evigt elsket.
Hvad man gør i et langt vente- & midterstykke
Læg mærke til, hvad Josef ikke gjorde i de to år.
Han lavede ikke et prison break, og han sultestrejkede ikke. Han lavede heller ikke om på sig selv for at fortjene at komme ud. Han passede et fængsel. Han stod op om morgenen og gjorde det, dagen bad ham om. Det var nok.
I mit eget studie har jeg fundet et helt afsnit om tålmodighed som en dyd. Det mirakel, der ikke er kommet endnu, læses som et lille billede af hele skabningens uløste venten. ("Pentecostalism and the Virtue of Patience", i Perspectives in Pentecostal Eschatologies: World without End, s. 241-243)
Du er altså ikke bagud i troen, fordi du venter. Du gør nøjagtig det samme som alt andet, Gud har skabt.
Og sidder du med dårlig samvittighed over, at du ikke kæmper nok eller tror nok lige nu, så er det ikke Bibelen, der har givet dig den. Man kæmper sig ikke ud af et midterstykke. Man lever i det.
Det, du kan gøre i aften
Find datoen frem. Den dag, hvor det begyndte. Skriv den på et stykke papir, og skriv dagens dato ved siden af.
Regn så dagene ud. Rigtigt ud, med en lommeregner.
Sig tallet højt, og sig én sætning efter det: "Der er gået 180 dage, og det er ikke spildtid."
Gør så én ting mere. Vælg noget, du ikke skal nå i aften. Noget, du har gået og haft dårlig samvittighed over ikke at magte. Lad det ligge til i morgen, og lad det være med vilje, ligesom de to dage i Johannes.
Hvor længe har du ventet?
Josefs to år sluttede på en formiddag, han ikke havde set komme. Aftenen før var det bare endnu en aften i et fængsel. Jeg lover dig ikke, at din slutter på torsdag. Jeg siger, at han ikke kunne se, hvor i historien han stod. Og at der stod indtil i Guds udgave af den.
Find et fællesskab. Et sted, hvor nogen opdager, at du ikke var der i søndags. Det er lettere at finde, før man får brug for det. Og det er fuldt ud muligt at finde midt i, at man har brug for det.
Og ringer du til en, der befinder sig i ventetiden, skal du ikke tage noget med. Ikke et svar. Ikke engang et spørgsmål. Bare vær der. Sig, at du tænkte på din ven, og sig, at du ringer igen i næste uge. Og ring så.
Det er dét, der gør ventetiden til andet end spildtid. Ikke at der endelig sker noget. At der er nogen, som stadig er der.
Words for the days when God seems silent — two a week, Tuesday and Friday.Ord til de dage, hvor Gud synes tavs — to om ugen, tirsdag og fredag.
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