Here’s to waiting…
In the late 90s (yes, I’m showing my age!), Guinness brought out one of the most acclaimed British ads ever made. The black and white ad begins with a close up of a weathered man’s face; he looks poised.
“He waits… that’s what he does… and I’ll tell you what; tick followed tock followed tick followed tock followed tick.”
The bassline comes in with a beat which builds as we cut to see what the man is waiting for. The perfect wave. He rushes to the ocean with his surf board and friends; the white horses of the waves literally become white horses that join the surfers in the race for the shore. Only one makes it all the way to the shore without crashing out. The perfect wave, the perfect ride, the perfect surfer. The ad concludes; “Here’s to waiting”. Iconic.
The advert leaves you with chills. It’s a totally inspiring clip. You are left in complete awe of the surfer, who waited for the perfect moment to fulfil his ultimate dream. Waiting is held as a virtue to be desired above all other virtues, as if waiting itself is the key to unlocking all other desires and
fulfilment in life. Waiting. Really? That can’t be it — can it? Do good things come to those who wait?
Waiting has been on my mind a lot recently. It seems most of 2020 has been waiting. Waiting to be safe, waiting for normal, waiting for the new normal, waiting for return. I am so ready to not be waiting!
The waiting of 2020 has almost always had negative connotations. This latest period of lockdown restrictions is no exception. It is full of ache, melancholy, sadness, longing… or is it just me? Don’t get me wrong, I have so much to be thankful for, I know that, but still I wait. Waiting to be reunited with loved ones. Waiting for the dark nights to pass. Waiting for hopes to be realised.
My response to waiting has generally flitted between two camps. I either throw myself wildly into list making of all the things ‘to do’ whilst I’m waiting. (It’s a complete distraction technique, if I busy myself with all these things to do, I won’t even know even notice I’m waiting and before I know it, the waiting will be over. Either that or I’m trying to control the waiting… sound familiar?) Or, I completely slump. (I am so consumed with the seemingly never-ending waiting that I lose all motivation and doing anything seems pointless.) It’s a horrible yo-yo to find myself on, because neither side brings any contentment with waiting. I am left with a loathing of waiting. Good things comes to those who wait doesn’t really cut it. More like: good things may come, I hope I don’t have to wait. Hardly an iconic advertising slogan.
There’s also some things with our new series that have got me thinking about waiting. Just how long do you think it’s acceptable to wait for? The end of the working day? A week? Month? Year? The people of God had been waiting 400 years for him to speak before John the Baptist appeared.
FOUR HUNDRED YEARS!
Yet incredibly, even after 400 years of silence, they were still people who were ready and waiting to hear God’s voice. John’s father was a priest (Zechariah) who prophesied at the birth of his son that he would ‘go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him’ (Luke 1:76).
Zechariah knew what it meant to wait but in his waiting he learnt to look for hope. The hope of morning after the night. The Messiah was coming, he wouldn’t wait forever. Hope was on the horizon and he was ready for the dawn.
But what if you feel like you’re in the middle of the night, the darkness consumes and you feel like the dawn will never come? How do you deal with the wait then? This season of Advent speaks powerfully to that story. Advent prepares us for the coming of Jesus, the coming of light — but it doesn’t start there! Advent begins in the dark. Christmas begins in the dark. A reminder of what life is like without the Light of Life. Christianity invites us to wait in the dark. To come to terms with how dark it can get. To long for the dawn and the light. If you are longing for the darkness of night to end, waiting for the dawn, listen to what the Psalmist said:
‘Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.’ (Psalm 30:5)
As we wait in the dark, we know the morning is coming. The hope of light is coming. When it comes, the light transforms everything — nothing looks the same. This is Jesus. Revelation describes him as the bright and morning star. Our hope.
Whatever you are waiting through at the moment, wait in readiness and hope for the dawn. When our hearts are moved by this hope, our waiting is a thing of beauty, it brings glory to God. The King is coming. Good things come to those who wait. Here’s to waiting.
Judith Gibson, Pastoral Assistant, Christchurch Xscape
