There is a constant tension between going out proactively in what we hope is what we are supposed to do, and waiting, being still, and trusting in something to come. If a farmer prays for rain, he ought to prepare the fields, if he truly believes in the God whom he asked for rain. At the same time, when Elijah prayed for rain, all he could do was to wait and watch for the storm clouds to come from the sea.
I love the tension of living a life of paradoxes. I guess the answer, as in so many other cases, is that we must do both; wait and be still, but also go out, trusting. I suppose the trusting is the end, as it is the faith which is the important part? Sometimes there are different means to the end of faith?
We can’t see anything; I suppose that is how this whole faith thing is supposed to work – namely, in any given situation or circumstance, we may not ever know exactly what we are to do; maybe that is part of it all, like rules in a children’s game, that we won’t generally be told clearly what to do, period. If we were to know precisely what to do, if we had an exact map, trail, footsteps to follow, I suppose that wouldn’t be faith. This is something which I know theoretically, a comment readily available*, but nonetheless I still sometimes hope to get exact directions. And somehow, in the end, it will be this waiting +/& going out in faith which is the most beautiful way?
*Ever find that many ‘churchy’ things we say are like that – things which we know and can whip out because they are written on paper, things which we say that sound hollow because they are not written on our heart? It is a strange thing, to know some of the answers before life has taught us to ask the questions. Jon Foreman of Switchfoot said something once about not trusting somebody without a limp… to learn the answers, to truly know them, will most times leave us limping, changed, as it did Jacob.