Stairway to Heaven

"For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, but the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting." - T.S. Elliot

"Blessed are those who listen to me, watching daily at my doors, waiting at my doorway." Proverbs 8:34

Writers are always encouraged to write in the present tense whenever possible. Current things - immediate things - are always more easily received, imagined and accepted. Perhaps this is because we live in a stoplight society: green means go, yellow means hurry and red means try to screech through at the last possible second. Have we yet a moment to ponder, though, exactly what is so worth the haste?

As for myself, I most often rush to accomplish those things with importance lasting only a moment. A chapter must be read for homework, a sentence perfected, a limb severed and offered to the academic lords we call professors for a decent grade - yet these things are, in the words of Solomon, meaningless, "a chasing after the wind." (Ecclesiastes) I hurry to fill slots of time like bricks with mortar, imagining each task as the adhesive that will secure each piece of my life to the next. I often fail to realize, however, that the only object to be built with this mortar is a wall. If I build the wall faster than anyone else, I may reach its heights first. If I am constantly building, though, to what end will my efforts climb?

As Ash Wednesday comes to a close, I ponder the necessity of haste in my life today. Yes, certain tasks have deadlines, and the authorities that are should be respected. That does not mean, however, that I must shove all else in my life aside so these tasks can take precedence - often, those joys I shelve are the ones never finding an allocated time slot in the future. Even practices I consider extremely beneficial are displaced by mundane chores: sleep, healthy or even regular eating, time for family and distant friends, and, most importantly, time with God. In the constant speed of daily life, I forget how joyful it is simply to wait.

What do we wait for? How can waiting possibly be joyful? Most of us imagine a dark, dusty waiting room where one can practically see germs left from children past resting on the arms of chairs as the light dimly sifts through yellowing blinds. This waiting room generally leads to a reluctant end - perhaps a dentist, cleaning, assignments from school or work, or an unwelcome meeting or appointment. Imagine instead an entire world filled with miraculous beauty and companions to share in its joy. It is both constant and ever-changing; it comes with seasons and environments and flavors and scents and sensations and emotions and endless experiences you may participate in at will. Here, you wait - completely occupied - for the greatest life you can never imagine. That majestic world is what we call Earth, and it serves as the waiting room for the impossible to perceive glory of the world beyond. Not only do we have the privilege of waiting here, we have the absolute honor of waiting bathed in the love of Christ. Though we wait for Jesus' arrival in our long begotten world, we are still given His love to aid the seething burns on our souls, from sin stinging like the sun on our bare arms. We run free among the world, blessed with holy affection, still sinning and yet still desired individually as irreplaceable treasures. Which dentist is it who will lavish you with the whole of his heart while you wait in his dingy reception area?

Even with this amazing love at hand, God still gives us innumerable tasks and hobbies to distract us from this "permanent" wait. Though (most likely) we will not see God until our souls meet Him in the world beyond, He still ensures we have an entire planet to occupy our hearts, minds and bodies through the duration - all He asks is for our spirits. Will we not give them? Let us remember this Lent that, despite all we have to fill our time, this life is ultimately an active waiting for our Savior to return; it is a preparation of our spirits for the holiest King. Why, then, are we not most eager to wait? Why are we not bouncing upon our toes as we wait for His key to turn in the lock? Our sin is so great, yet His love transcends all, and He loves us greater so. Waiting for our Father to return should be the greatest, silent joy of our lives. Thus, here we are at the beginning of Lent, a designated opportunity to reflect on this spiritual ecstasy as we wait for the celebration of the life that redeemed our own.

"I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope. I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning." Psalm 130:5-6