Thoughts On: John 7:1-13

But when the Jewish Festival of Tabernacles was near, Jesusʼ brothers said to him, “Leave Galilee and go to Judea, so that your disciples there may see the works you do. No one who wants to become a public figure acts in secret. Since you are doing these things, show yourself to the world.” For even his own brothers did not believe in him.

Therefore Jesus told them, “My time is not yet here; for you any time will do. The world cannot hate you, but it hates me because I testify that its works are evil. You go to the festival. I am not going up to this festival, because my time has not yet fully come.” After he had said this, he stayed in Galilee.

John 7:2-9, NIV

I stopped writing for a while, and I can feel it underneath my skin - that I'm disconnected from my source, that I'm not tapping into the well of living water that is Scripture and the wrestling that comes with it. I made the rookie mistake of thinking that because I am in the midst of writing for work, I wouldn't have the energy to write at home. In fact, I've made a lot of rookie mistakes this past year, which in many ways is beautiful. I've finally found a space within this world where I want to settle in and learn - a place where I can grow and expand and study.

I used to hate being a rookie, and so I've often questioned God's timing. In the midst of dark times and deep battles, it is hard to remember that redemption will come and that the sun will rise again. In the midst of those valleys, I am always tempted to believe the lie that God's timing is incomplete. I look around me and become convinced that God will not come through this time. I look at everyone else's life - how they seem to all be experts at something, tried and true in some field or subject, and I wonder when I will get to that place. 

This year, though, has been different. It has been a year of beginnings, taking steps toward lifelong goals, learning new things and falling into dreams I didn't even know I had. Only two years ago, I would have been disappointed in my performance so far. As a recovering perfectionist, I've wanted to waltz into my adult life knowing how to do everything: how to preach and write and befriend teenagers and make myself a healthy dinner, how to educate myself on issues of social justice and how to be a good friend and coworker. Now, though, I can see - some seasons of your life are preparation. And I can't tell you what this preparation is for, and sometimes I feel my inadequacy slap me hard across the face as I falter and fall and make a mess of things. But it is this truth that keeps me taking each new step into the unknown:  God's timing is wise. 

Even Jesus had limits on his timing. He knew when to go, when to stay, and when it was time to make a move. There are 30 years of his life we will never know about on earth, because those years were purely preparation. Even when he began his ministry, he made executive, strategic decisions that made it possible for him to end up in the place he wanted to be. Christ is wise beyond all measure, and his time-management reflects his wisdom.

I am learning, now, not to hunger for success and perfection. I am learning to hunger for wisdom. I know now that I don't get to be good at everything - not now, and not ever. God's timing may make no sense to me, and I may not have a clue where he is leading, but I will continue to take steps in the direction he's given me. He knows what he is doing, and I suppose all of these beginnings can be knit into the beginning of this new adventure: the journey of faith.