Renovated Patience

With the recent end to what seemed like an eternal job search, my mind has been overwhelmed with thoughts of how patience and perseverance truly are blessings and times of God's teaching. Of course, with my witty nature and having fun looking up quotes to begin entries (though the search is not always fruitful), I went to google. Upon finding a page with some really insightful quotes on patience, it was a different quote that leaped off the page and into my brain.

Tertullian said, or wrote, "Hope is patience with the lamp lit."

This stood out to me for two completely different, yet related, reasons. On one level, it stood out because my middle name is Hope. Whenever I see quotes about hope, or indirectly talking about hope, it peaks my interest. i ponder the meaning and how it could possibly relate to my life, whether currently relating, or how I should incorporate the wisdom into my life (if it is worth the incorporation and does not go against the Biblical virtue).

The second reason this stood out to me is because of the mental picture that it creates. I see a house in the middle of a large field, with the dark sky above filled with stars shining in the night. In the front window, there is an oil lamp which can be seen from a far distance because there are no city lights to interfere with it's warmth. The lamp is lit because a young wife, eagerly awaiting the return of her soldier from war, lights it each night. Why? Because if that is the night, she wants her soldier to be greeted by the warm glow which beams through the night, as he returns home from the battleground.

I think of the young wife's dedication and commitment to making sure the lamp is waiting for her soldier. I think of the soldier returning from battle, after months and possibly years, and seeing the warm glow in the distance. What would be his reaction to seeing the warm glow, knowing that it must have been lit by his wife?

That kind of patience is amazing to me! Not because I can't imagine having that kind of patience and devotion, but because it is such an amazing and special commitment that the only word coming to mind is "amazing".

Life is difficult, even without being sent off (or having a loved one sent off) to war, and it can seem like an extreme battle due to internal and external circumstances. Knowing that someone is there, even if not necessarily waiting up, but leaving a sign for you, has to be one of the most reassuring feelings in the world. The one experience I have that is similar to this would be when I spent part of a weekend "homeless" for a class. It was supposed to be a literal 48 hours. Unfortunately, due to health issues, I was not able to last the full 48 hours, and returned to campus on the Saturday night, greeted by the warmth ad love of friends. I was overcome by commitment of the person who met me at the car and helped me walk inside the building, and more overcome by the gathering of friends to welcome me back...even though it was before the "scheduled" return. It was an amazing gift to have experienced that kind of love and commitment!

When I think of the mental picture described earlier, I think of a similar type of love and commitment to what I experienced after my early return....multiplied to infinity. To have the blessing of opportunity to keep a lamp lit for that special person in your life, to leave a physical symbol of the desire you have to see them return at the end of each day, is something that I hope and pray to experience. Someday, when God has brought the man into my life who desires to share in this experience (with me - not just someone in general), and I have the same desire to share this experience with him, that will be a beautiful day.

Obviously, there is not such a man in my life right now. Therefore, in the present, I must live with the hope that a man with this desire will be brought into my life. My light is burning, it is sitting in the window, and God will bring the right soldier into my life.

"Burn your fire on the altar/Leave a candle on the porch/I'm still too far away to see it/But I'm aching for its warmth/And I'm so tired and cold and dark and lonesome/But still I hear your song inside/So sing it louder if you want me home tonight/Sing it loud now, 'cause I'm comin' home tonight"
~Chris Rice, "Home Tonight"~