Sacred Waiting in Winter’s Night
This winter night, my soul finds itself straining forward, with a heartache reminiscent of what the psalmist penned: More than the watchmen wait for the morning, so my soul waits for the Lord (Ps. 130:6). Eyes straining forward through the tenebrous shadows, heart made desperate with a desire that has come a long way from its initial sweet beginnings, aged with an agony of no other options in its ache.
I wait for God alone.
And I am in good company in this cold vigil— as are all believing hearts who traverse such nights. This waiting on the Lord like the watchmen of old, with persevering trust and no other option, it is what has always carried the saints of God with holy escort into the bastion of gospel HOPE. A hope that runs out ahead into the darkness and calls back, Surely He will come! Though the morning tarry, wait for it! It is WHO HE IS to come.
As surely as the sun rises, He will appear; He will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth. Hos. 6:3
Hope that is seen is not hope (Rom. 8:24). In the chill of a darkness that won’t lift, it is the warmth of soul that keeps us pressing upon the window glass, expectancy defying the blackness. For enduring darkness whispers a compelling story to our souls— to mine. And unbroken, cold delay may well cause candles of hope to go out. The pressing darkness alleges the argument, Who is to say the night will really end? What confidence can be had that morning at last will break? Is it not vanity to believe that unending tears will one day turn to shouts of joy (Ps. 126:5-6)? Is it not foolish to hold on to the hope that eyes that endlessly scan for signs of coming light will at last again behold the shining beauty of the Lord (Ps. 27:4)?
Yet hope contends with a different story that holds truer and deeper than every whisper in the dark. It is the everlasting story of His very nature. He is the God who commands the morning, after weeping has endured, for His anger is momentary, but His favor is for a lifetime (Ps. 30:5). He rescues the poor and needy and brings the prisoner up from the pit. He Himself is the resurrection and the life, the God of light who arises over those waiting beneath thick darkness, causing His glory to rest upon them (Zech. 9:11-12; Is. 60:2).
It is who He is.
There is promise buried deep within the witness of each night’s darkness and each morning's light. It is the promise of resurrection by the God of life. Every earthly night and morning, every dark chapter of the soul, followed by the inbreaking of God’s life, gives witness to the Gospel story of the One who came to a world in sin and error pining, sending a thrill of hope and rejoicing to the waiting, weary soul. They proclaim that the One who gave His life for us in death, and rose from the dead and ascended to the right hand of the Father, will soon come again in splendor, as the Bright and Morning Star, filling the ends of the earth with His glory, as the waters cover the sea.
It is who He is to bring the morning light after the dark night.
On this One we wait, and for HIM alone. And whenever a dark night overstays its welcome, we wait in hope. Surely He will come. Every winter solstice of the soul, every groping in the shadows of drawn-out delay, prepares the heart with a mourning commensurate to the coming joy. A weeping that endures long promises a dawn bursting with gladness. The very nature of the One who comes promises us that it is so.
The firstborn from the dead and the One who commands the morning cannot deny Himself (Col. 1:18; Job 38:12). The ultimate Day is coming: when all darkness will flee, every shadow shall disperse, and all the kings of earth will bow their knee to the Root and Offspring of David, the Bright and Morning Star (Rev. 22:16).
For Him we wait.. We wait as the watchmen wait for the morning.
Even so, Lord come (Rev. 22:20).
This I recall to mind, therefore I have hope. Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, therefore I hope in Him! Lamentations 3:21-24