God, for you a day is like a thousand years,
        and a thousand years are like a day –
or like yesterday, the psalmist said.
        A snap of the fingers, a few milliseconds.

But Lord, it’s difficult for us
        to have your perspective.
Our lives are short, if lucky –
        eighty maybe ninety years;
and even so they pass by fast,
        like a tumbleweed in the wind.

So God, is it really any big surprise,
        that we are always in a hurry?
When we decide what we want
        we want it here – now,
not tomorrow, or the day after,
        God forbid we have to wait longer.
Astute business owners know us,
        and will retire millionaires;
by promising next day delivery,
        instant if it’s a book to download.

So God, we confess: we don’t wait well.
        We like the “hurry-up” offense,
the “fast-break” with a slam-dunk finish,
        instant pudding, and microwave meals,
even fast-food burgers ready yesterday –
        if only we had thought to come.

And yet we spend so much of our lives waiting,
        you’d think we’d be better at it by now.
Waiting nine months for a child,
        forever waiting on them after that.
Waiting to graduate from school,
        then waiting for the right job.
Waiting for test results,
        sitting by the phone in bygone days.
Waiting rooms are the worst:
        no control of when we will know,
        or what the surgeon will say.

Waiting is difficult business,
        not because it demands self-control,
but because waiting forces us to admit
        that we have no real control:
no control over time, or outcome;
        we are helpless and dependent.
Our “control” over our lives is just a mirage,
        one lump is enough to shatter the illusion,
        or one dip in the stock market.

You told Moses, with Pharaoh closing in,
        “You only have to keep still,
        the Lord will fight for you.”
And through the psalmist you said,
        “Be still and know I am God.”
        Wait for it, be patient, I am in control.
Lord, please know how hard that is for us:
        to give or acknowledge your control,
        and readjust lives set on fast –
                to your speed, your pace.

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