By Joel Repic
I just came back from waiting. That’s right – waiting.
Two youth told me they wanted to come to our youth ministry’s Bible study tonight. I drove to the public housing project where they live. I went to a neighborhood I know well with people in it I know well to pick up two youth I know well. I knocked on the door. It was pouring rain. And I waited. I knocked again. And I waited. I went back to the church. I texted one of the youth on my phone. And I waited for a response. Then I went back to his house after youth group. And I waited.
I remember one of my first experiences in Aliquippa. It was the week before we started our summer City Camp program with Aliquippa Impact. Our church’s Vacation Bible School program was that week, and I thought I would try to enroll some of the students into the church’s program – students I did not yet know. I talked to a mother on the phone who seemed very interested. The next morning I drove into the neighborhood and knocked on the family’s door. And I waited. The next morning, I did the same thing. And I waited. The morning after that I did the same thing. And I waited.
I remember being very discouraged that morning. A few months later after a successful first summer of programming in the community (and lots of waiting), a seasoned youth worker in urban ministry told me, “We’ve come to just expect that kids won’t follow through a lot of times. We try to not get too excited. The let down isn’t as bad then.” I understood where he was coming from, but I never liked that advice. Why wouldn’t I expect the kids would show up? Why wouldn’t I expect God to do something great?
Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of times where our ministry in Aliquippa is anything but waiting. It is fast paced, it is effective in the Spirit’s power, and lives are changing. Sometimes I even feel like I would never be able to keep up if it weren’t for Jesus’ strength.
But then there are times where I wait. I make plans with a youth in the community. I show up. They don’t show up. And I wait.
I spend a lot of time with youth in Aliquippa. These are youth I know. We have a good time together. We laugh together. I know they trust me. I know they know I appreciate them. I know they know I’m not going anywhere.
I know why they don’t show up at times. They forget. They realize they’re getting close to someone and that makes them uncomfortable. Their lives are so chaotic at times they can’t follow through on plans. They are testing me. They are so used to adult lying to them they don’t think I’ll actually show up. They feel such a sense of hopelessness that they don’t even feel like trying. They know I’ll be there again. They know I won’t give up on them even if they don’t show up this once…or twice…or three times.
Today after I waited in front of this particular youth’s door, I decided to get back into my car and wait a while because it was pouring rain. As I sat there – wet and on the verge of discouragement – it occurred to me that there is a waiting that is a waste of time and there is a waiting that is like a sacrament.
First, there is a waiting that is a waste of time. This type of waiting is the kind where Christians wait inside the four walls of the church for people to come to them. Of course, such waiting will be cloaked in religious language – “I just know God will do something great” – but it is waiting in safety, in comfort, and in apathy nonetheless. There is a waiting that is prayerless, effortless, and pointless. It’s a waste of time.
But there is a waiting that, although painful, is a vehicle for God’s grace. This the type of waiting in which Christians fervently pray, fervently seek, and fervently plead with the Lord for people in the community. This waiting unfolds as we go into the community. We wait at front doors. We wait on the streets. We wait in accessible places where people can find us when they do decide to come. This waiting makes believers more patient. We wait for God to conquer the enemy. We wait for hearts to change. We wait for God to do His work. We wait for God to make His invisible work visible. And we wait long enough so that when God does move in a visible way we are there. We are there to see it happen. We are there to be used by God in the moment. We are there to be part of God breaking through. We were ready. We were eagerly waiting. And when God does this work and we are available and accessible, our waiting also becomes a vehicle for God’s grace in the community we were serving in. We can say, “God used me because I was patiently waiting in the place He wanted me to wait in Aliquippa.”
That waiting is worth it. That waiting is not a waste of time. When a life is changed and we get to be a part, our perspective changes on waiting. We showed up ten times and the other person didn’t? We waited a year? We waited three years? We waited ten years? Who cares! The waiting was worth it. God was working even though we couldn’t see it, and we stuck around long enough to see a life changed! That’s worth it! In fact, we would do it all over again.
And so I wait.
I wait for God to turn Raquis to himself. While I wait, I prove to Raquis that I’m there for him. And in secret, I pray fervently that he won’t die from drugs or bullets or thugs.
I wait for God to show Shakaila that she can overcome her addiction to crack. I see her on the streets trying to find dealers. I invite her to our house. She talks to us. And in secret, I pray that God will spare her from death.
I wait for God to bring Latisha to faith. She is so close. She basically agrees with everything we talk about. She even likes talking about Jesus. So I keep engaging her in discussion. And in secret, I pray that God will show Himself to her.
I wait for Jamar to grow up and become a man. I see him drawn by Christ yet pulled by the streets. But I’m there for him, and in secret I pray that God will have the victory.
I wait for Stephen to come back. He used to come to youth group. Now he’s on the streets with the dealers. Every time I see him, I say hello and invite him to my house. He knows I’m waiting. In secret, I’m praying for him to come back.
And I wait for God to break through for the people of Aliquippa. I know He’s already doing it. I also know He has much more to do. He’s just getting started. So in secret I plead for this city and for it’s people. Daily I continue in God’s strength to labor.
I’m waiting, Shakaila.
Raquis, Latisha, Jamar – I’m waiting.
Stephen – I’m still here and I’ll keep on waiting.
Aliquippa – I’m waiting for your day.
Jesus, I’m waiting. And my waiting isn’t in vain because you are faithful. Give me the strength to wait.
Thank you for the grace of waiting.
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