He Waited for Me Anyway

 

   

        I stumbled across a video earlier today and immediately had to run and type this out. It was an animated short clip on social media, the kind you scroll past, unless it catches something deep. This one caught me.

     It showed a woman sitting down with Jesus and eventually getting up and leaving, walking away. She didn’t run. She didn’t turn back. She just… walked away. Slowly, intentionally while he stood there. And the video didn’t cut away, instead it lingered. It showed him waiting. Not chasing her with demands or shouting her name in anger, but just waiting. As time passed, the setting around him changed. Seasons shifted. Summer turned into fall. Leaves fell. Snow came. The sun rose and sat over and over again. But he didn’t move. He sat there waiting. Watching. Still. 

    Then, one day, something in him shifted. His eyes lit up. He stood up excited, meeting his gaze with her. She had messy hair and looked like she had been crying but he ran toward her with everything he had and so did she. 

   I didn’t expect to cry, but I did. Because I realize that I was the woman in the video. I have walked away from Jesus more times than I’d like to admit. Not in some dramatic storming off kind of way, But in the slow, quiet fade. Where life gets loud and distractions grow taller than my faith. Where I get distracted from the pain that creeps in. The kind where prayers get shorter, then silent altogether. Where I put my head down and convince myself I’m fine without him.

  I believe a lot of that has to do with anger and not understanding. You deal with a lot of pain and hurt throughout your life and you can’t help but to ask why. You get tired and disconnected. I was performing more than I was praying. Somewhere deep down, I think I thought I’d gone too far. Thinking that maybe he was disappointed in me. Maybe he’s done waiting for me. 

  But that video reminded me of the truth. He never stopped waiting for me. I don’t know how he does it, or how he knows where we will end up next. But he sits there in that next spot waiting for us. He stands still in his love, and he doesn’t walk away, even when we do. He didn’t shut the door when I grew silent. He waited. With patience I’ll never understand. 

  It’s beautiful to think that he doesn’t greet us with shame. He doesn’t meet us with a lecture. He doesn’t start the conversation with, ‘ Where have you been?’. He just runs to us. 

  I don’t know who needs to hear this today but if you’ve been walking away intentionally or unintentionally, I hope you know he still waiting for you. Right where you left him. Eyes on you. Heart full. Just longing. 

  And when you start to turn back, even if you’re not running, he will meet you there. There’s no shame in coming home. There’s no guilt in returning. There’s only grace. 

He waited for me anyway, and I know he’ll wait for you too. 

-Kass