Make Time for God’s Timing

“But those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:31 NIV)


I had good intent this morning. I got up early, dressed and prepared to head to my favorite writing spot near Lake Michigan. As I climbed into my car, I silently congratulated myself for getting an early start. Then I said a quick prayer asking God to inspire me with an idea for today’s blog post. I stuck the key into the ignition. I turned it. Nothing. Again I tried, this time holding the key a few seconds longer and giving the engine a little more gas. That’s when I noticed that the car’s interior lights were on and had probably been on all weekend. Dead battery.

With impatience brewing within me, I called the service station. Then I sat down in my living room to wait. “Lord,” I whispered. “I have no time for this. Please make them come quickly.” Almost instantly I heard it, God’s still, small voice reminding me of something that I had read in a book last week: “There is no time in Heaven.”

That’s right. Heaven knows nothing but eternity. The only time that matters there is God’s perfect timing, and that holds true here on Earth. The Bible tells us in Psalm 37:7 to wait patiently for God to do His work. Yet, when I look at my own life, I see that so often I view my time as more important than God’s timing. Patience wins God’s approval. The psalmist David says, “I waited patiently for the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry.” (Ps. 40:1) Whether we cry out to God about little things, like a dead battery, or about matters of life or death, He hears us. “When His people pray for help, He listens and rescues them [in His own time]” (Ps. 34:17 CEV)

I waited more patiently. The service man arrived and started my car’s battery. Now, later than planned, I am at the lakefront writing this post inspired by God.

A Coast Guard cutter floats fifty yards offshore. It travels slowly across the water, back and forth, its occupants searching each square in an imaginary grid. Several dozen people are gathered on the beach,— brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, grandparents—all waiting patiently near the water’s edge. A passerby told me that they have no choice but to wait. Their ten-year-old relative, a boy, went to be with the Lord while swimming here two days ago. The boy's family kills time, some ambling along the beach, others sitting in lawn chairs staring toward the horizon, a few hugging and holding tight to each other as they wait for his body to be found. And as I look more closely, I see a small group of them raising their hands toward Heaven, praying.

And here I am, no longer grumbling about a dead battery, but instead praying for a dead child's family, and praying, too, that this blog post will inspire you to be patient with the little things that disrupt your schedule, your time. Because, you see, God knows precisely what He is doing, and His timing is always perfect. Those little interruptions happen for a reason as He moves you through life in His time and His way.

Where has God sent you today? Are you impatient about where you are? Look around. Does someone need prayer? Were you sent by God to help? You are exactly where He wants you to be right now, and, in some small way, you are working out His plan.





2 comments:

Shari Barr said...

Jean, your post really touched me. How true. If we only had patience, we would be so much more content as we wait for God's perfect timing.

quietspirit said...

Jean:
Your words cause me to stop and think. I had a tenative appointment with a friend today. I was to call her last night,which I did. My call went to voice mail. She was working and her phone battery died. We were able to meet late this afternoon. We talked about the nonprofit ministry we both work in.(She founded it.) Then she asked me to pray for several of her family members. Had I kept the same attitude I had last night, we wouldn't have met and I would have missed the blessing of being used by God.

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