How much longer?

Remember the seemingly eternally long road trips as a kid and the oft repeated question: How much longer? We often find ourselves whining out our "boredom" and desire to be somewhere, anywhere else than where we are.

We've been in a desert of sorts for some time. Before we got to this place, a minister once told us we would have a time of being in hiding like Josiah and that we would have to wait there.


We've often likened our current existence with the Israelite's wanderings in the desert. We have been provided for with manna and quail, our clothing has persisted and we are often confused about who we are, or where, or what, something like that. We've been found to whine and also to praise and hopefully to learn. We are thankful for all that has been given to us, most of all our children and home which are such a joy and comfort to us.

It's easy to look at the Israelites and wonder how they could possibly say that they wanted to go back to slavery and Egypt. While I would not go so far as to say that our former church body that housed the Izzy ministry was the Egyptians, I could draw the analogy that we were in a system of bondage and that the church was the Israelite overseers, whipping us, keeping us in line, maintaining the Empire's status quo, which changed whenever the "paying pew sitters" got uncomfortable.

While we are not so dumb to think we could ever go back to Egypt, we do dream of being somewhere (other than a desert) and often ask, beg, plead the CEO for a new assignment. Why? We miss being a part of something big, of knowing our identity of seeing the work come to fruition, of being with others. We miss so much the family, the poor and homeless that we were privileged to walk with day in and out, even if it was under the system.

There are some oasis in the desert. And our identity should not fluctuate like sifting sand because we are or aren't "busy" helping someone- but it does. We are most fulfilled and joyous when someone is in our lives and we know that the CEO orchestrated our walk together. In the lulls, which have been frequent and long lasting, we start to wonder why we are still here and how much longer until we'll get somewhere.

Heb. 11 scares me spitless, you know the part where it says they never really got to see the promise- just welcomed it at a distance- like this could be a never ending car trip, all squished and smelly. I know in a way that is true, but I really believe there is more for us in the here and now. But when? where? what?