"Faith Through the Eyes of Psalm 130: 
Faith as the Waiting Soul "
The value of waiting
Sermon Preached by
The Rev. Dr. Andrew Stirling
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Text: Acts 1:4-8
I was in a rather long line-up in a bank recently, and I'm not a patient person. I was getting agitated and irritated; all I wanted was my own money. But standing in front of me, fairly early in the morning, was another gentleman who looked even more agitated. Because the line-up was so long we began a conversation, talking about life. In fact, we could have gone through our entire genealogy we had so much time. He was wearing a uniform and looked very official, so I asked him what he did. He said he was a night watchman at a leading corporation here in Toronto and that he been up all night. Fascinated, never having had the chance to talk to a night watchman, I asked him if his job got boring or tedious. He said, “No, not at all. In fact, there are so many things you have to do throughout the night, you are kept busy most of the time. Checking the screens, meetings people, getting in contact with other security personnel, going from room to room, checking all the locks. It really is quite a busy job.”
Then I asked, “Is there anything in this job that is difficult for you?”
“Yes,” he said. “That hour just before dawn breaks. I have done my work, but I wish I could flick on a switch and the light of dawn would come on. It seems interminable - that hour before dawn goes on, and on, and on.”
No wonder he looked a little irritated. At 10:00 a.m. after having been up all night, he must have wondered what he was going to do to control his emotions.
Recalling that night watchman, I think the psalmist in today's reading felt exactly that same way. He said, “I wait for the Lord. My soul doth wait and in his word do I hope, just like those who wait for the morning.”
Scholars have given different interpretations as to precisely what the psalmist had in mind. Was he thinking of being a shepherd on the fields with his sheep, making sure that they got through the night safely and were in the fold in the morning? Others have suggested that maybe he was thinking of the guards who were on the ramparts of the city and the walls of Jerusalem, making sure the citizens were safe overnight and waiting for the dawn. Or maybe, as some have suggested, he had in mind those guards who stood like sentinels on the hills overnight when the pilgrims marched toward Jerusalem, staying in difficult, dangerous places.
Whichever interpretation you have, it is the metaphor that is important. It is the sense that you wait for the morning, anticipating something. For what was the psalmist really waiting? Clearly he was waiting for his sins to be forgiven. He was waiting for God to act and answer his prayers, for there is no doubt that he was distressed. He was waiting for divine assurance that God would be with him; that he could trust in God no matter what befell him. That is implied in the text as well. Either way, the psalmist had to wait like those who wait for the morning.
Sometimes waiting has profound challenges. Waiting for something to occur, particularly if you are facing disaster, can be very difficult. I do not wish to enter into any discussion about Conrad Black's fate, but as I watched the trial I couldn't help but feel for those who were waiting for a verdict. That period between the end of the trial and the sentencing date must be very difficult for everyone who goes through a trial, regardless of their guilt or innocence. That period of waiting holds you in suspended animation and you wonder whether you have any control over your life whatsoever.
Most of us have experienced this when we or a family member is sick. I often think “waiting room” is very apt nomenclature for a doctor's office. Interminable waiting takes place so much of the time: waiting to get the appointment, waiting to hear results, waiting to find out the treatment. My heart goes out to those with particularly awful diseases who wait. Like the psalmist, they must be crying out, “I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait… like those who are waiting for the morning.”
Recently, we remembered the events of September 11, 2001. Each anniversary, my mind goes back to that day and the reality that one of my friends was in the World Trade Center. When we heard that planes had flown into the building, Marial and I turned on our cell phone and called to see if he was all right. Then we waited, and we waited, and we waited. I sat by that phone; it never left my hip. I went to bed with it under my pillow, and it wasn't until midday on September 12th that finally it rang with confirmation that my friend was okay. But I remember the waiting, and when I read this psalm, I read it in exactly the same way: “I wait for the Lord. My soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope.” Such is the power of waiting.
Think of when you have wronged someone, but haven't had the opportunity yet to ask for their forgiveness or put right the wrong. The time between realizing what you've done and asking for forgiveness can seem interminable. Being able to say I am forgiven is a very deep thing.
No one understood this more than St. John of the Cross in his wonderful work, Dark Night of the Soul. He understood that there are times in our lives when it is as if we are in an interminable night. Just like the psalmist, we wait for the morning. We wait for divine assurance and protection; we need God to act - to come and save us. In that darkness, we wait.
Not all waiting is for bad things. Sometimes we actually wait for good things to occur. We wait expectantly for something great to happen. I think “expectant mother” is a perfect term to describe what mothers experience. All the fears and uncertainties, joys and passions, all the unknowns as you wait for a child to be born must be excruciating, tremendous and awesome all at the same time. But you wait. You have to wait - you can't just have a child immediately. That waiting is a good thing. Still, in the midst of waiting, do you not pray? Do you not plead to the Lord? “I wait for the Lord, my soul doth wait and in him do I hope.”
Likewise, the sense of expectation in your heart when you know a gift is coming is a good kind of waiting. You just can't get over the fact that something wonderful is going to be coming your way. I'm feeling a little bit like that right now. Just this week, Marial and I ordered a new puppy. We've already received a photograph taken when it was one day old - a little black blob on a screen. I looked at the little, black blob and thought, “For 15 years I've got to look after that little black blob. Fifteen years. Oh my Lord, what have I done?” Yet I can't wait for him to arrive at our home. But I have to wait. I wait expectantly for eight weeks until the blob arrives and my life is forever changed. But it is exciting, this anticipation.
The psalmist feels that. It isn't all bad for him - he's waiting for forgiveness. He's waiting for God to act, for the kingdom and for something good and marvellous to transpire. “I wait for the Lord. My soul doth wait, and in his word do I hope.” There is this sense of grandeur and expectation that something wonderful is going to happen.
A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned that I had been reading John Milton throughout the summer. When Milton was only in his 40s, he went blind. He was devastated, because he had been writing and he wondered how he would ever be able to write again. He had used his writing to serve God. Milton and many others were at the forefront of the puritan revival, and he was deeply troubled. But in the midst of his distress, this is what he wrote:
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide-
Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmer, soon replies; God doth not need
Either man's work, or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best.
His state Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait.
What words! Even the great Milton, who had lost his sight, was prepared to wait to serve his God.
Sometimes we want to prolong waiting and delay something's arrival. The arrival of justice or truth is not always considered good. I read of a man on death row who was given one last wish. His last wish was to choose his last meal, and he said, “I would like a watermelon.”
The guard, surprised that he had asked for such a thing, said, “By all means, but you do realize this is December and the watermelon seeds haven't even been planted, let alone grown.”
The prisoner replied, “I don't mind. I'm in no hurry; I'll wait.”
Sometimes waiting provides a real opportunity. Magnificent things can happen to us. The psalmist says, “I wait.” But what does he wait for? The dawn, which represents new life, new opportunities and a new day.
Our Jewish brothers and sisters have just observed the great high holidays Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Rosh Hashanah is a fascinating holiday, because it celebrates the opening of the book of life and the beginning of a new year, waiting for God's judgments during the time of Tishri. Ten days later there is Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement; the day of new beginnings, to cast clean and have a new start. Between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is a time of meditation, prayer and preparation; a time of sitting and waiting upon God. Waiting isn't just waiting for a believer; waiting is a time of prayer and renewal.
After he was raised from the dead, Jesus appeared to the disciples, who were agitated and extremely upset. They wanted things to move along. “When are you going to restore the kingdom to Israel? Let's get on with this, shall we.” Jesus said:
I want you to go to Jerusalem (the place of his execution) and I want you to wait. As you wait, the Holy Spirit will come upon you and you're not going to believe this, but you are going to be witnesses for me in Jerusalem and Judea and in Samaria and to the uttermost parts of the world.
In other words, if they were prepared to wait on him and on the power of the Holy Spirit, they would do great things. Waiting can be renewing. It can restore and rehabilitate, and sometimes waiting on God can save us.
Charles Swindoll tells the story of a peasant farmer and his son who went to market in the city four times a year to sell produce. As was their custom, they hooked up the ox and cart, put the produce in the back and headed off to the city. The son was in charge and was steering the oxen, but he was in a great hurry. He wanted to get there as soon as possible to sell the produce and make his money. He whipped the oxen, and the father said, “No, you mustn't do that. Slow down, we're in no hurry. It can be dangerous if you hurry. Go slow; what's the rush?”
The son was seething. Four hours later as they went slowly along the road, the father saw his brother's farm in the distance. He said, “Why don't we go and visit my brother, I hardly ever go past his home.”
The son replied, “No, father, we have to sell our produce. We've got to get to the city and make our money. We're in a hurry, let's go.”
But the father insisted, “No, we are going to see your uncle.”
The uncle was so pleased to see them. The brothers talked for a long time. The son was seething. “Let's just get on with it,” he said. “Let's get back on the road.”
Finally, the father decided to take the reins. They came to a fork in the road, and the father turned right. The son said, “This is ridiculous, the left is the quickest way to the city, why are you turning right?”
“Because this is the scenic route,” the father said. “This is where the brooks, streams, rivers, fields and flowers are and I want to enjoy them.”
“This is getting ridiculous,” the son said. “We've got to get to the city and sell the produce, to get on with life.”
As the sun began to set, the father found a field and said, “I think we will camp here for the night.”
The son was pulling his hair out. The father rolled over and began to snore, while the son stayed up all night. The sky was lit brightly by the stars and moon, but he didn't enjoy any of it. He was only thinking about getting going in the morning and selling their produce. When the dawn came, he stood next to the oxen ready to go, and cracked the whip. The father got on the cart and they headed down the road. Just down the road they saw that another cart had fallen in the ditch and the father said, “We must help this man.”
The son was going crazy. “We've got to get to the market. We've got to sell the product. We cannot wait.”
The father said, “Someday it might be us who are in the ditch. We should save someone now from their misery.”
So they used their ox to help the man, then continued on to the city. It was now 8:00 a.m. They were near the city when suddenly over the hill they heard a huge crack. The sky went dark, and they felt an awful shaking. The son said, “Look, it's raining in the city. Had we got there last night we could have sold our produce already, but now no one will come to the market. You silly old man, you're wasting our lives.”
Finally, they got to the hill. The son looked at his father and said, “Father, you were right. You were right to take your time and celebrate life. You were right to help others.”
The two of them climbed back down the hill, got back in the cart and drove off, leaving behind them the city of Hiroshima.
My friends, in this life we are so driven. We think we know all and can see all. But the psalmist says sometimes we need to wait on the Lord. “The Lord will renew you and give you strength,” just like those who wait for the morning. If we wait patiently; if we have the grace to wait prayerfully and compassionately, the Lord will always act in the morning. Amen.
This is a verbatim transcription of the original sermon.