Waiting rooms. We’re all familiar with them. We “can’t wait” but there we sit—at the doctor’s office, emergency room, or surgical unit. And then there’s the waiting room we walk out with—the impending call about a myriad of other tests that seems to take forever.
We’ve waited for ourselves. We’ve waited for kids, spouses, parents, friends, and neighbors. We’ve read outdated magazines, talked to strangers, stared out windows, looked for distractions, cried, and prayed. For the most part, I hate waiting rooms. I hate sitting there feeling uneasy and helpless, being anxious about the news to come.
I sat in a waiting room just this week while a friend had surgery for breast cancer. The room was packed, so I went to another waiting area. It was less crowded, but the noisy chatter was annoying. Longing for some silence, I went down the hall to the chapel. The quiet enveloped me and a beautiful stained glass window shone before me. Still. . . all I could do was wait.
Are you sitting in a waiting room?
Sometimes it’s all we can do. Whether it’s something physical, relational, financial or spiritual, sometimes waiting is our only option. We don’t like it, but we don’t have any other options. Fussing and fretting don’t count and they won’t help.
David ended his Psalm of fearless trust in God with these words:
Wait for the Lord;
Be strong, and let your heart take courage;
Yes, wait for the Lord.Psalm 27:14 NASB
As I was sitting in the chapel, I remembered those words. Wait for the Lord. Be strong—even though you feel weak, and let your heart take courage—even though you are afraid. Yes, wait for the Lord.
As I was waiting, I thought to myself, “What is the opposite of wait? A memory surfaced and I smiled. I recalled my daughter’s experience skydiving. Before the jump, she and her friend received detailed instructions about the equipment and procedure. Paramount in those instructions was the part about the rip chord—where it was located and when it needed to be pulled.
She jumped with a huge smile on her face and all was well—until it was time to pull her rip chord. In the video you can see the instructor, parachuting tandem with her, pointing to the altimeter that it was time to pull. Then you can see my daughter struggling against the wind resistance to reach the rip chord. As her mom, I believe her adrenaline would have kicked in and she would have gotten to it, but the instructor wasn’t waiting. He reached down, pulled the rip chord, and they shot up with the parachute.
Are you needing to pull the rip chord?
Sometimes with physical, relational, financial or spiritual things, we need to “pull the rip chord.” We need to act, to do something. It’s easy for me to get mixed up—waiting when I need to act and acting when I need to wait. So far, reversing them hasn’t worked well for me.
Sometimes we need to sit in the waiting room—praying, comforting others, or just being still. Sometimes we need to act—calling 911, confronting an addicted friend, or asking for forgiveness.
Waiting rooms are for waiting. Rip chords are for pulling. Waiting rooms may or may not be serious. Rip chords always are.
Do you need to pull up a chair?
Or do you need to pull the rip chord?
PS: If you need someone to wait with or someone to pull for you—reach out to someone.
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