NOT YET

The calendar shows me that the spring equinox has come and gone, but the view outside my window tells a different story. There are piles of snow everywhere, and temperatures are barely in the positive numbers. This winter has been fun and full of adventures, but I am ready to move on to warmth, green grass, and bike rides. But we’re not there yet. In reality, we won’t be there for many more weeks.

I’m reflecting on the not yet of early spring these days. I know that in a month or so, the birds will build their nests, the trees will produce buds, and the earth will wake up after its long slumber, but it requires so much patience and trust in the waiting. In many ways, it is an accurate representation of the human experience. Aside from a collection of deeply painful moments or incredible mountaintop experiences, our lives are often spent waiting and hoping for what is not yet.

My life is full of not yets. My body is not yet healed in the way I am hoping for and working towards. I carry the pain of some relationships that have not yet been brought into the fullness of the restoration I long for. Several desires and passions are brewing in my heart that do not yet have expression or an outlet.

Oh, the blessed not yet. (sigh).

There is a complicated tension in being present to what is while filled with anticipation and waiting for what is to come. It is the Holy Saturday—the day between death and resurrection. A day marked with confusion, fear, and uncertainty but also wonder, hope, and mystery. Jesus is in the tomb, he is not yet resurrected, yet we know it’s not the end of the story.

I find deep comfort in knowing that Jesus experienced the not yet. My grumbling about dirty snow and cold temperatures doesn’t seem as petty then. It tells me that the not yet has a place in the story, for it is the place from which hope springs, and without hope, there is only disappointment and despair.

The not yet does requires patience and trust in the waiting—which I find difficult. But it also turns me toward wonder with a certain curiosity about what is to come. The sun on my face and the grass under my feet is even more delightful after a long winter. Perhaps the not yet really is blessed.