Hide and seek: a story of waiting
by You Have My Word
Let me tell you a story about waiting. It is a couple of months long, though I doubt it will take you that long to read. This is my story, and I’m slowly learning the truth.
Remember when you were a young child playing Hide and Seek? I don’t know if this ever happened to you: on the odd occasion everyone would have been found but they would forget about you. Maybe your mom or dad were meant to come looking for you but got so caught up in doing something else they didn’t even start looking for you. So you’d wait patiently thinking they were still coming to find you, because if you came out of hiding you’d lose the game.
No one wants to lose, so we hide. And wait. And wait some more. Eventually you’d begin to entertain yourself in your small, secret space. At some point it crosses your mind that maybe you didn’t explain the rules properly, so you crawl out defeated and go look for them.
How often do we sit waiting for God? Quiet, still, in anticipation, secretly, in a tiny space (sometimes a tiny mind space) and we don’t move at all. We think he’s forgotten about us, or he’s too busy to come looking for us, or he doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to do. Here’s the truth:
God never forgets us.
God is never too busy for us.
God is never uncertain about what to do.
So, again, after much waiting and boredom and entertaining ourselves and doubting and making assumptions and sitting still, we crawl out of our hiding place (The place we know every crack and corner of because we’ve been keeping ourselves there so long) and we go looking for God. We go looking for God, only to find that all along he has been waiting for us. We find him not too busy, not having forgotten us, not preoccupied, not confused or lazy, and not even impatient. We find him.
“God,” you say, “I was waiting for you. I hid all that time and you never came to find me.”
“My child, I knew where you were all along.”
“When why didn’t you come? You never came. You were probably doing something more important and just left me.”
“My child, nothing is more important to me than you.”
Indignant and furious, you begin to shout: “Well, you probably just forgot! If you knew where I was, why didn’t you come?”
“Child, I never forgot you. I will never, ever forget about you.”
“But you never came,” you begin to cry. “I was alone, waiting, and you never came.”
“Child,” he says, drawing you onto his lap,” I was waiting for you to come to me.”
Waiting is not a passive thing.
Waiting is not a secret thing.
Waiting is not a quiet thing.
Waiting is not a lonely thing.
Waiting is not an angry thing.
Often, all the while we’re waiting for God, he is waiting for us. We get angry at him and make accusations because we do not understand his timing or his ways. We get ourselves so worked up, and claustrophobic in our little space. We think that our space is secret and safe and that no one knows we’re there. Maybe no one else will find us, but God know we’re there. We think we’re alone and lost, but we are never alone. We are never lost; God knows where we are.
Stop waiting in the darkness.
Stop making assumptions.
Stop pitying yourself.
Go to God, child.
Come to the light.
Come to his truth.
Come see his delight in you.
Come to love.
He is waiting for you, all you the while you’ve been waiting for him.
He is there. He loves you. He knows you’re there. He wants you to find him because he has already found you. And he will never forget you.