Delayed.
A word I heard sooo many times yesterday in my travel to San Francisco. After driving to Raleigh and saying my final goodbyes to my family, I had barely entered the line to go thru TSA and a notification on my phone saying my flight was delayed an hour. I call Brittany (one of my family that had brought me to the airport) to see where they were. Should I get out of line and go be with them another hour or go on through security? I decided to go on through security.
As I waited at my gate, I began to think about the word delay. How many times do you think we have said that to God. Said, I know I said I would do this or that but God I’m going to put that off an hour. Or when we know we are being called to something and not ready for what He has for us. Or better yet, cancelled completely? I believe He whispers to us a lot more than we realize and we just choose the snooze.
What if He said the same to us? What if in those times we need Him the most. What if He said, I’m busy, I’m putting you on a delay. But He never does. That’s how good He is to us. Even when its been days, weeks, or even months since we have spoke to Him, He is always right there. His unconditional love never ends, is never late, and is never on standby.
So, what about choosing directions? I had mentioned about getting out of line to spend another hour with my family or choosing to go on through security. I know I willing choose to delay doing something because I know the hurt that is about to happen. I think we all do. A lot of times I think I try to just put a bandaid on a problem so I can keep going and minimize the hurt. Realistically, spending another hour with my family would have just been putting on a bandaid. I chose to continue through security. When I got to my gate, I tried to sit away from people because I knew I couldn’t hold back the ugly cry that was about to happen. I cried it out. One of the pilots sat down near me. I inquired about the delay and if I was going to be getting to San Francisco any time soon. He informed me of bad weather in San Fran and that our plane was arriving now, but we wouldn’t be leaving for several hours. Not what I wanted to hear. He asked why I was going to San Fran. I told him about my upcoming 11 months of mission work. His face lit up. He does mission work in Africa building schools. He was a blessing to me. Just basic conversation about how the Lord had worked in his life calmed my spirit and broken heart. So when we choose the bandaid, are we choosing to miss out on a blessing?
