Tip of My Iceberg

“I wanna be like my brudders.”

Our Pennsylvania clan is a boy family. Four articulate, competitive, active young boys who play well together–and battle one another with ease. The dynamic of all boys in a family is usually quite a bit more robust than a family of all girls. But there are similarities.

The youngest always want to be like their older siblings.

Scout, who’s almost three, is an intent observer. His older brothers do everything, from soccer to baseball to football. His big brothers play hard and give it their all.

Scout wants to be the same. His attempts to fit into his brothers’ equipment doesn’t quite make it, but it doesn’t keep him from trying. The image of being like his brothers is ever before him. They’ve set a standard that he sees and values, and he longs to achieve the bar they’ve set, which is fairly high. Waiting to achieve those goals is rough for any little guy.

We all have found ourselves in that “wait, not yet” place of knowing we haven’t gotten to the place we want to be. Yet. Waiting feels interminable; living in an instant-gratification society doesn’t help matters. We see others around us achieving what they’d hoped for, so patience feels unfair.

No one wants to wait for what they see as necessary.

Jesus had just returned to Capernaum, having been ministering on the other side of the Sea of Galilee. He was approached by a synagogue leader whose daughter was dying, and he asked Jesus for help.

As Jesus followed this man, a woman came up behind Him. She’d been hemorrhaging for twelve years. Such an illness would have made her unclean to her fellow Jews–ceremonially unclean. It would have isolated her from friends and family. She’d spent all she had on doctors who had done nothing for her; in fact, she’d become worse. She’d heard a lot about Jesus, and because she couldn’t really be seen among people, she thought if she snuck around behind Him and touched the tassels hanging from His robe, she’d be healed. She moved closer to Him, managing to just get her fingers on His robe, and immediately felt her body being healed. Her plan was to disappear in the crowd. Jesus didn’t let her.

“Jesus realized at once that healing power had gone out from Him, so He turned around in the crowd and asked, ‘Who touched Me?’” Mark 5:30.

Everyone, including His disciples, thought He was a little off–He was surrounded by people. How would they figure out who it was?

The woman became frightened, and she fell to her knees and told Him what she’d done. “And He said to her, ‘Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace. Your suffering is over.’” Mark 5:34.

She’d waited so long, lost all her money, and had no hope left. This woman had just a little faith that Jesus would do what He’d done for others. She invested the little bit of faith she had and found Jesus to be authentic; He was who He said He was. When He addressed her as “Daughter”, He not only proved to everyone there that she was accepted by Him, but He invited her back into the family of faith who’d shunned her for so many years.

He then proceeded to heal the synagogue leader’s daughter.

Both people waited. Both lived in the “not yet”. The woman had waited so long and was out of options. The synagogue leader had hoped to have Jesus heal his daughter, but she died before Jesus got to their home. His healing of this young girl proved to this religious leader that he hadn’t waited in vain for Jesus.

Scout is in the “not yet” phase of his growth. He can’t do what the “brudders” do, but it doesn’t keep him from trying. His efforts show his faith in what he hopes to be true one day–he’ll be an athlete just like his brothers.

We’re all in the “not yet” place in many ways. Some exist there in discouragement; others have faith that things will change in their favor. Our faith works in the waiting and opens our hearts to God’s power at work in us. The challenge is to stay expectant of what God can do if we trust Him.

What is your “not yet” space? How are you doing in the waiting?