I have never thought of myself as an artisan.
I'm not paintbrush savvy so paintings won't adorn a gallery anytime soon. Even though I have had fanciful ideas of carving or shaping a solid chunk of something into a smooth, sultry piece to be admired, I'm not a master of sculpture. I don't sew. I don't create film history or mind blowing visual displays, but I do have a skill, a craft, a trade in the art of waiting.
I've waited at traffic lights and for pedestrians at crossings,for babes to be born and birthdays to begin. I've waited on phone calls from heart friends and news from afar, for culinary delights to be served and groceries to be bagged. I've waited in queues at fun parks and in lines for the loo, for paint to dry and for a house to sell, for the dark clouds to lift and for depression to desist, for the sun to shine and the washing to dry, for sleep to capture me and for a new day to dawn, for my kids to get ready for school and for work and for them to return home at the end of the day. Yes, I've spent my life waiting sometimes hopeful, excited and expectant but often impatient and frustrated. Life is full of waiting….
But the craft I seek to be masterful in is the art of waiting on my Saviour.
It is an art.
Waiting for His promises to be fulfilled with a heart full of hope and not merely hanging in there. Waiting in His presence until my weary soul is weary no longer. Waiting as He speaks words of life deep into my being so that His words are the ones which weigh heaviest on my heart. Yes, my skill in waiting on Him needs refining if I want my strength renewed.
It's in those moments when I become tired in the waiting that God’s Spirit is right alongside helping me along. He's the constant companion I want to pursue. Indeed the art of waiting is beneficial and imperative to my soul’s well being.
It's this art to which I wish to be an artisan.