Perseids

We are standing in the street after midnight, faces tilted to the dark expanses above.  Constellations and airplanes flicker in the night.  A bank of clouds dissipates near one horizon.  It is August, during the early days of the Perseids Meteor Shower, but no one has spotted any.  My friend talks about impatience, that the meteors are reminding him of waiting on God to answer our questions.  We are all tempted to quit after a while of listening for Him, when He hasn’t spoken yet.  We tell Him, “We haven’t got time for this.” 

But what did God give us time for? 

I agree in my heart with my friend’s testimony.  I add my own difficulties with waiting: I start doubting.  Is it broken?  Are we doing something wrong?  Does God listen?  Should we pray differently? 

Just then I see my first one, and it is a tiny, less impressive meteor.  I don’t even comment.  But I continue the parallels.  This is also like God.  Just when I’m about to give up, thinking the problem is with me or it is pointless, that this whole communication with God thing is not even working, He gives me a glimpse.  It’s beautiful, quick, smaller than the big thing I’m hoping for.  Just enough to string me along, reassuring me that the process is not broken or misunderstood. 

I keep looking up, but there are no more until we go back out over an hour later.  Then we lie there, soaking in the heavens, and count the glories.  I think God is like this, too, that when He is ready, He will shower the spectacles we’ve waited for, and we’ll be in awe.