Waiting for Jesus

Based off of a special dream

 Down a dirt path in a lush autumn forest, I walked with Jesus. 

When we found a white chipped rain-washed bench, he told me to sit and wait. I didn’t want to wait here. Why here? On this broken bench when I could be walking with him?  

However I trusted him and I listened. 

Before he left, he said, “I’ll be right back, Jane. Sit and wait. Whatever you do, don’t go down the path alone. It’s not safe.” 

I waited for days. Weeks. 

Soon someone else came along up the road. They said that they also knew Jesus and was told to wait on a white bench. 

We sat and waited together. 

Over the months, I was met with more people that Jesus had sent. Some had little faith and waited for a day before venturing down the path alone. Some waited for weeks but eventually their hope died away. 

One day, my friend from the beginning arose from the bench. When I asked where she was going, she turned to me with eyes drained from all hope she had before. “Don’t you see? Jesus isn’t coming back. I’m going down the road.” I confronted her, upset. I told her we just had to trust in His promise. He would never lie to us. She didn’t believe me. She held out her hand, a smile spreading across her sorrowful face. “Come with me.” 

Although I loved her dearly, I rejected her offer. 

She scowled and turned away, heading down the road, never to be seen again. 

More months passed. Years. I met people along the road. Most didn’t stay long. 

Eventually my hope began to drain away, leaving an empty pit inside my heart. A feeling of betrayal and dismay began to rise within me. 

One day, while I sat on the rainwashed bench, a group of laughing kids passed by. Drawn by their fun atmosphere, I greeted them.

I asked if they knew Jesus and was sent by him as well. They had never heard of the man. They claimed that they were simply walking down the path for their own desires. 

They asked if I wanted to come along. 

I turned to look at the few children sitting besides the white bench. Oh, how long I had waited there. Oh, how many friends I had lost to the mysterious road. Oh, how I had lost Jesus. A dark expression clouded my face.

I had waited long enough. The last droplet of hope that lingered in my heart fell and dissolved into the dirt path below me. 

I took the offer. 

No one from the bench tried to stop me. No matter. 

I walked down the path with the group of laughing kids. Alone. Giving up on Jesus’s promise. 

It wasn’t bad at first. The kids in the group were friendly although they sometimes teased me. However I felt that this was better than waiting for a man that was never coming back. 

However, as we ventured down the road, I turned my eyes to the trees and my face fell. The once lush leaves of the branches we’re dying. Everything around me was withering into deadly and intimidating shapes. The tweeting of the birds morphed into growls echoing deep within the looming forest. 

I stopped the group. 

Gesturing at the deathly forest around us, I said, “Maybe we should turn back. The trees are no longer lush. Everything around us is dying. There are monsters waiting to pounce and devour us.”

All I received were confused and mocking looks. 

“What do you mean? Everything is fine.” One of them replied. 

I stuttered. Why couldn’t they see? They had eyes but they were blind to the dangers that arose around them. They had ears but they could not hear the monsters waiting to devour their souls. 

I realized too late my mistake. Why had I gone with a group of teens? They were blind and deaf to the dangers. They couldn’t protect me. Why hadn’t I waited on the bench to wait for Jesus? 

Oh, my eyes opened. My mind, clouded with doubts of the worst, cleared with the truth. 

I recalled what I had spoken to my very first friend on the path. Jesus wouldn’t lie to us. To me. 

I stepped back from the deceiving group of teenagers. They laughed but their lips were dripping with lies. They winked but they were blind. They walked but their steps were filled with selfish desires. 

I sprinted away, tears running down my cheeks, away from my mistakes and back to that whitewashed bench.

When I came back, the kids waiting looked surprised. I was the first person to come back from walking away. 

When asked what the path was like, I, deeply ashamed, replied with “Jesus was right.” 

I sat and waited. And waited. It took years. Kids invited me to head down the tempting road but I refused. I learned from my mistakes. 

As the days dragged on, while people chatted beside me, I sat deep in thought. Deep in shameful thoughts. 

How could Jesus accept me now? I had disobeyed his commands. I gave up on his promises. I cursed his name. There was no chance that this humble and worthy man would ever accept a troublesome sinful girl like me. 

Curling up on the bench, i shut my eyes, back turned from the temptations from the road, desperate for the loud silence of sleep to drown out my thoughts. 

Someone tapped my back. 

I rolled onto my other side, frowning, opening my mouth to say that I didn’t want to head down the path— and was met with a pair of twinkling eyes. 

My heart leaped for joy. All sorrow and doubts were replaced with a mournful praise. 

Jesus had come back. Jesus kept his promise. He always does. 

Everyone at the bench—whether they were new or had grown exhaustingly familiar with each little crack and crease of the bench—they cried out in praises, tears of joy running down their cheeks. 

But I hid. 

At the sight of someone so holy and worthy of praise, I was ashamed. 

I stood behind the laughing crowd, hiding myself from Jesus’s gaze. 

But he saw me. He always does. 

Slipping past the sea of people, he kept his gaze on me, merciful eyes looking into a pair of young and tearful ones. 

He held out a hand to me. 

I looked down. I couldn’t dare touch him. I wasn’t worthy. But when I looked up, he gave a slight nod of his head, accepting me. Accepting me whole. 

I choked on a sob that broke through my trembling lips as I grasped onto his hands as tight as I could. 

Everyone took each other’s hands. 

Jesus looked at each one of us and said, “Now it is time to head down the road. Now whatever you see, whatever you hear, don’t let go. As long as you can see me, as long as you’re holding on to me, you’re safe. You’re safe in my hands.” 

He looked down at me. Tearful, I avoided his gaze. 

At that, we ventured down the road. 

During our journey, we conversed with each other. I had waited for years and years. I had even given up on Jesus, but he still came back. He kept his promise. 

One day, while we were walking, I gathered up my courage, and stopped the group just like I had stopped the group of teens so long ago. 

I looked up to Jesus. 

“Jesus. Why did you bring me along?” 

He tipped his head at me, with a comforting smile. “What do you mean?” 

A sense of guilt so strong rose within me, that I almost let go of his hand. Almost. 

“I disobeyed you. I cursed your name.” 

Once again, the waterfall of tears were back, etching my face in eternal sorrow. 

Everyone was watching me. Oh, how I longed to be as perfect as them. I was full of shameful sin. I had no place here. 

I echoed these thoughts to Jesus, desperate to know the answer. Desperate to know why someone so perfect would want someone so broken. 

Jesus took my hands and turned my to face him. Tears streamed down his cheeks. And as I gazed into those glistening eyes, I realized that his heart was broken for me. 

He loved me dearly. 

“You came back.” Jesus spoke softly. 

“But I ran away.” 

“But you came back.”

I wanted to pull away. But that would be another sin upon my head. 

“I didn’t believe in your promise.” 

“Jane.” I stopped my bickering and listened. “You came back. Your sins are forgiven. ” 

I realized the meaning of his truth. 

No matter how far you run, no matter how much crushing sin you carry upon your shoulders, no matter how broken and shattered you are, Jesus loves you unconditionally. 

As long as you come back and wait for him, he’ll take your hand and lead you down the road safely. 

“Look up.” Jesus smiled. 

I turned to the forest that surrounded us. The shapes of the branches were familiar it was the withered looming forest from before. But there were no crumpled grey leaves. The trees were full of color— orange and red leaves painted the forest. No more were the monster’s growls. The tweeting of the birds were back. 

Jesus straightened and took the hands of his children. 

He had changed the season of sorrow and  death to a painting of hope and joy. 

“The journey is far from over. The path still goes on. Hold on tight, my child, and I promise I will protect you. No matter what you are faced with, I will be there, right behind you. Don’t let go. Don’t lose faith in me yet.” 

Sins forgiven, faith restored, I took his hand and held on tight.