Freedom from asking, “How Long?”
When I am in the driver’s seat of our family mini van I often hear questions that begin with the words “how long.” We are not in the van a lot around town, but to get to bigger towns we have to travel quite a ways. I usually don’t mind. The sky is huge. The animals are out. The crops come and go. There’s much to ponder during our trips across the prairie.
My kids have to ponder them too. We don’t have any screens built into our mini van, and we have a no-screen policy for most family trips. There are exceptions for trips that last for hours upon hours. My wife and I aren’t insane. Without screens in front of them our children are able to see what I see while we drive, and they especially notice when we slow down through another small town. That’s when the “how long” questions really come. My youngest child hopes that every small town is home and the trip is over. Even the nearest town to home is still a good twenty minutes away, so the waiting continues. During the trip each of us has a choice to make: we can either enjoy the trip for however long it lasts, or we can grow tiresome of waiting and constantly ask “how long?”
Living life in a fallen world is no different, especially for those of us who always seem waiting for what’s next. We could be waiting for the weather to get warmer. We might wait for a situation to change at work or at home. We could be planning our next trip, or always planning the trip of a lifetime that—so far—has taken a lifetime to come together. It may never come at all. Worst of all, we might ask “how long?” before other people change. We tell ourselves the lie that once they change or our circumstances change, then we’ll change too. Until something changes, all we can focus on is that it hasn’t yet, so we ask God, “how long?”
I imagine his response to us is not much different than that of the driver on a trip. There is a destination, and we are headed there. Sit tight. Enjoy the view. Befriend the company. Take advantage of the time. In the Psalms many authors ask God “how long?” when faced with troubles. For example, in Psalm 13 David asks God how long he will feel abandoned and forgotten. We never learn God’s specific answer to David’s question, but by the end of the psalm David trusts God’s love, rejoices in his salvation, and praises God’s goodness. I suspect God did not answer David’s “how long” question so as quickly as the psalm reads. Instead, David adjusted his attitude. Once David changed his heart, the answer no longer mattered.
Marva Dawn has an entire book on how the psalms present the “how long” question. She writes: “When we can rest enough to trust with our times the One who is trustable, then we don’t have to ask the ‘how long?’ questions. We will be able to see that however long God wants certain processes to continue is simply the gift of his perfect wisdom.” Note how she uses the words “rest” and “trust.” When we ask God all our “how long?” questions they are mostly half-hearted. We ask them, acting as if we want to rely on his timing, but we remain restless because we insist he meet our deadlines. In other words, we trust in ourselves more than in him. It’s no wonder we become impatient and restless throughout our days.
It’s only natural to wonder how long something will last, but consider changing your attitude next time you want to lament about your circumstances. Dawn says, “The delightful irony is that usually the change of attitude is the deliverance. As soon as we stop asking ‘how long?’ we are liberated from that question’s bondage. Then we can rejoice instead in the memories of how God has been good to us.” Ah yes, joy. There is no joy for the kid who is grumpy that we are not yet at home, but there is much joy for the ones who open up their eyes to the world around them and the people next to them, and the God with them. We may not be there yet, but we can rest and trust that the driver of our lives knows what he is doing.
My kids have to ponder them too. We don’t have any screens built into our mini van, and we have a no-screen policy for most family trips. There are exceptions for trips that last for hours upon hours. My wife and I aren’t insane. Without screens in front of them our children are able to see what I see while we drive, and they especially notice when we slow down through another small town. That’s when the “how long” questions really come. My youngest child hopes that every small town is home and the trip is over. Even the nearest town to home is still a good twenty minutes away, so the waiting continues. During the trip each of us has a choice to make: we can either enjoy the trip for however long it lasts, or we can grow tiresome of waiting and constantly ask “how long?”
Living life in a fallen world is no different, especially for those of us who always seem waiting for what’s next. We could be waiting for the weather to get warmer. We might wait for a situation to change at work or at home. We could be planning our next trip, or always planning the trip of a lifetime that—so far—has taken a lifetime to come together. It may never come at all. Worst of all, we might ask “how long?” before other people change. We tell ourselves the lie that once they change or our circumstances change, then we’ll change too. Until something changes, all we can focus on is that it hasn’t yet, so we ask God, “how long?”
I imagine his response to us is not much different than that of the driver on a trip. There is a destination, and we are headed there. Sit tight. Enjoy the view. Befriend the company. Take advantage of the time. In the Psalms many authors ask God “how long?” when faced with troubles. For example, in Psalm 13 David asks God how long he will feel abandoned and forgotten. We never learn God’s specific answer to David’s question, but by the end of the psalm David trusts God’s love, rejoices in his salvation, and praises God’s goodness. I suspect God did not answer David’s “how long” question so as quickly as the psalm reads. Instead, David adjusted his attitude. Once David changed his heart, the answer no longer mattered.
Marva Dawn has an entire book on how the psalms present the “how long” question. She writes: “When we can rest enough to trust with our times the One who is trustable, then we don’t have to ask the ‘how long?’ questions. We will be able to see that however long God wants certain processes to continue is simply the gift of his perfect wisdom.” Note how she uses the words “rest” and “trust.” When we ask God all our “how long?” questions they are mostly half-hearted. We ask them, acting as if we want to rely on his timing, but we remain restless because we insist he meet our deadlines. In other words, we trust in ourselves more than in him. It’s no wonder we become impatient and restless throughout our days.
It’s only natural to wonder how long something will last, but consider changing your attitude next time you want to lament about your circumstances. Dawn says, “The delightful irony is that usually the change of attitude is the deliverance. As soon as we stop asking ‘how long?’ we are liberated from that question’s bondage. Then we can rejoice instead in the memories of how God has been good to us.” Ah yes, joy. There is no joy for the kid who is grumpy that we are not yet at home, but there is much joy for the ones who open up their eyes to the world around them and the people next to them, and the God with them. We may not be there yet, but we can rest and trust that the driver of our lives knows what he is doing.
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