He Waited With Me for a Long Time

I spent some time on the floor tonight. Lying there in the dark, in a room lit only with a few candles, and waiting, hoping, praying, to meet with Jesus and let the things inside me be stilled, even just for a few minutes.

As I lay there, a line from one of the most powerful books I've ever read came to mind. It's a line from one of my favorite stories in the book, a story I've read and felt touch my heart so many times that as I was laying on the floor, waiting for hope and quiet and peace to come, the refrain of the last line not only played, but I heard the whole story, playing softly. I've spoken often, here, about the ways that Renee Altson's "Stumbling Toward Faith" has touched my heart deeply in just the right moments, (and let me just say that if you haven't read this book, you absolutely must rush out and get it. it's not an easy read, but is quite easily one of the most beautifully profound things I've ever read.) Tonight was one of those nights that it touched me deeply. It was the following story, and particularly the closing line that spoke to my heart:

As part of our connection with God, we read the following passage over and over:

“Suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. Does he not leave the 99 in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? And when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.’ I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over 99 righteous persons who do not need to repent.”

At one point the facilitator asked us to think and journal about what we felt, about what would happen, if we were the sheep waiting for the shepherd, and we saw him coming: what would he say? Where were we? How would we react?

I sat in that church, sprawled on the floor, leaning against a sturdy pillar with my eyes closed, trying to imagine that moment, trying to be that sheep.

My mind showed me a dusty, dark place. I was alone, it was quiet. There was only the occasional moaning of the wind. There were no birds, there was no shade.

I heard the shepherd coming a long way off. He was whistling.

“Hey,” he said to me. “I have missed you. I am so glad I found you.”

He extended a hand to wipe my tear-stained, dusty cheeks.

“Come back with me,” he said. “Come back to the others.”

I shook my head and pulled away.

“No,” I said.

“He looked surprised, but it did not change the immense compassion on his face.

“No,” I said again. “I can’t go back. I don’t want to. I don’t trust the other 99. I don’t want to be hurt again. Please don’t make me be hurt again.”

The shepherd sat down on the ground next to me.

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’ll just say here with you then…”

The shepherd waited with me for a long time.

(Stumbling Toward Faith, Renee Altson, pg. 142-45)

I needed to hear tonight that he would wait with me until my heart is restored and able again to return to the land of the living. And, as I sat there in the semi-dark of my candle-lit bedroom, curled up on the floor, I too felt him settle down beside me, let me lean into him, and simply wait.