Waiting

Recently, a good friend read me this verse: 
"But they soon forgot what He had done 
   and did not wait for His plan to unfold." Psalm 106:13

Waiting for His plan to unfold. How beautifully poetic. A plan unfolding. I confess I want to lay out my plans. Unfolding seems to signify time, often a great deal of time. I don't like to wait. I like to plan, and do everything in my power to make that plan succeed. I tend to have the same disposition on waiting as Dr. Seuss conveyed in Oh The Places You Will Go:

You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race 

down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace 

and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, 

headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.

The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.

Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, 

or a plane to go or the mail to come, 

or the rain to go or the phone to ring, 

or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No 

or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite 

or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, 

for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break 

or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, 

or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.

I don't like the waiting place. But then I go back to the original verse. 
But they soon forgot what He had done 
   and did not wait for His plan to unfold.
In the desert they gave in to their craving; 
   in the wilderness they put God to the test. 
So he gave them what they asked for, 
   but sent a wasting disease among them.


When I don't wait for God's plan to unfold, I give in to my cravings. I put God to the test. And He might give me what I ask for. Oh Lord, I don't want what I've asked for. I want your perfect will to be done. For my cravings, my testing, my laying out of my plans will lead to a wasting disease. Help me to not forget what you have done. Help me to wait for your plan to unfold.