By Jamie Wiechman
Two years ago the following scenario played out in my mind during my prayer time. I was on one side of a chasm and the Father was on the other. I wanted so much to get to him and felt the frustration of being able to see him but not get there.
Jesus showed up about ten yards to my right and said, Follow me.
I’m familiar with John 14:6, where Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” But at that moment, it felt ridiculous and impractical. Why would I walk away from the Father in order to get to him? He was right there!
Jesus said to me, “You’ll find the Father in the face of the people.”
Now, don’t get me wrong; I like people. It’s just that, at the time, I was coming out of a very difficult season—one in which being with people was, let’s just say, complicated…
I had found the Father in the very solitary place of that isolated season. I had found him in the secluded chair in the corner of my room. He was my counselor, my comforter, my friend. I liked that; and I wanted to stay.
Thanks for the offer, Jesus, but I’d rather see the Father directly, if that’s OK with you.
The thing is, I’ve found Jesus to be quite winsome in his invitations. Even the ones that seem a little odd or scary have so much promise of life in them that they are hard to resist. So even though this path didn’t quite make sense to me, it wasn’t long before I capitulated. To the people we would go.
Two years later, and I’m just beginning to see what he meant.
You see, the path has not at all been what I would have expected. It’s been much, much, much, much, much slower. Considering the state I was in when we started, that slowness has been a great kindness to me.
Sometimes we’re more in need of recovery than we realize.
I was given a heads up two years ago, but due to the fact that I was not at all ready to be among the people, the early steps of the path were small and slow.
At first, it was mostly adjusting to the idea of it. I did try to take some steps that I thought would apply. My husband had just gotten a new church position, so I tried to step in as the pastor’s wife I wanted to be. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem like what Jesus was up to. In fact, it seemed possible that he was working against me. Nothing I tried was working, and the cost of my efforts was higher than I could pay at the time. It was taking a toll.
Eventually, I let go of that self-imposed expectation, and leaned in where I felt led: my personal health journey and my family.
It was such a tiny step that it almost seemed unrelated. In fact, at the time, I wasn’t sure if it was. But looking back, I see that focusing on wellbeing and family was an important first step. Building a foundation of health in myself was essential to being able to be around other people in a healthy way. Meanwhile, new rhythms and dynamics were being forged in my family, and my marriage was getting a facelift.
Who would have guessed that the Father would begin showing his face to me in these faces—the faces of those I care about the most? Or even the face I see in the mirror?
If I were in charge, I might have started with a ministry assignment. (Which, of course, is what I tried.) Instead, Jesus started with me and my loved ones. It was unbelievably kind.
Sure, it messed with my sense of usefulness and productivity… but maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe it’s worth seeing myself as having value apart from what I can accomplish.
I’m growing to appreciate the fact that Jesus is not in a hurry. I’m sure we’ll get to more external ministry at some point, but the fact that he’s given me time to attend to these small but precious things first has really blessed me.
I’ve been healing. I feel closer to my family and safer in my own skin. My self-talk is gentler. I find myself less anxious around people, and maybe less vulnerable to fresh wounding. I have a good support system in my family. If I’m honest, I may even feel almost ready to step a little farther out there. Maybe.
Jesus knew back then what I didn’t. He knew I missed the people, but that in my pain I had convinced myself I’d be fine without them. He knew that I would not be satisfied alone in my room… even with him. I’m part of a body—his body—and the other parts of that body are out there.
Two years of preparation: small steps that barely have felt like steps. But looking back, I can see I’ve come a long way. Much farther than I would have thought possible.
I’ve been repeating something to myself over the last few months any time I feel like God’s ways are slow. 2 Peter 3:9 says that the Lord is not slow; he is patient.
What I say to myself is this: patience is kindness is love.
The Lord’s slowness is his patience. God’s patience is kind. His kindness is love.
While slowness can be its own kind of challenge, God’s patience has left me saturated in loving-kindness beyond my imagining.
It’s taken two years. And we’re not done yet. And I am so grateful.