41 is Coming

 I'm struck by the idea of the number 40 in Scripture.

40 days and 40 nights Noah watched rain pour from the sky, and water rise from the earth.

40 days Moses spent on a mountain in conversation with God as he prepared to lead the people. 

40 YEARS the Isrealites spent in the wilderness, waiting for the unfaithful generation to die off before they were handed their promised land.

40 days Jesus himself spent fasting in the wildnerness before Satan tempted him.

40 days is a long time.  40 years is unfathomable.  I feel like I've been in the wilderness, wandering in circles, wondering when my own 40 will end.

And then just like that, it's day 41.  The waiting is over and the promised land is mine and I'm a little unsure of how to continue other than to fall down face first in worship of the King.  There's a hesitancy that comes after 40.  Almost too afraid to step in because what if another 40 starts?  But then there's God.  Waiting.  Standing in the fire.  Holding up my arms when I'm too weak and tired.

I'm moved by the idea that God is faithful.  Not surprised by it, or unsure of it, but so moved that God looks at me in my impatience and my anger and my faithlessness and he says quietly, "41 is coming.  Just hold on."  And just like clockwork, 41 comes.

Life gives us an endless supply of 40's, which is a number that's come to mean waiting to me.  In between jobs, in grief, in heartache, in lonliness, in mental health, I've had my fair share of 40s.  And what is astounding to me now is that I don't always see day 41 when it starts.  Sometimes it comes to day 50, or 60, or 90 and I open my eyes long enough to realize that God was indeed there the whole time orchestrating and moving and holding my hand.  It levels me.  It humbles me.  And then in my selfishness, I just keep on walking.

I don't really have a point to all this other than to say, wait for 41.  It feels impossible.  I know.  Believe me, I know.  I stood in a pew for what felt like a lifetime with tears streaming down my cheeks, prayers flying off my lips, hands trembling as I begged and begged and begged for the waiting to end.  For God to wake me up on day 41 already.  And sometimes it felt like he wasn't there.  It felt like I was watching everyone else's day 41 happen around me.  It felt like I was forgotten.  Abandoned.  Forsaken.  And yet, in his infinite mercy and grace, God held my hand as he took me through my 40 days.  He forgave me for my selfishness when I asked and he handled me with care and he waited for me to be patient in my waiting.  Because he's that good.  Because he's that kind of God.  Because of his love for me even when I was undeserving.

41 is on it's way.

41 is coming.

And God is there, right now, in the middle with you and in the 41 waiting for you to fall into his arms. 

Wait on him.  Wait for 41.  

Trust in 41 but above all, trust in the goodness of an unchanging God who keeps his promises..