In the Stanford Marshmallow Experiment, children were given a marshmallow to eat. They were told though that if they could wait 20 minutes to eat it, while the researcher stepped out of the room, that they would be given two when he returned.
The results of the experiment showed that children who were able to delay gratification performed better in school than those who consumed the marshmallow almost immediately.
I have always thought that had I been given that test, I would have passed, not because I’m good at delaying gratification but because I was an intensely suspicious child, taking the “don’t take candy from strangers” order to heart at an almost obsessive level.
The fact is, though, I hate waiting.
I can still see myself as a kid waiting for my mom in the department store.
“How much longer?” I would whine.
“Five minutes,” Mom would say.
And then I would start counting seconds. I think my love of math may have actually started from being so bored while my mom shopped. I remember one time my dad taught me square roots to keep me occupied. I was seven.
It seems I have spent much of my life waiting for something. If you read my last post then you know how cranky I’ve been lately, having to wait and move more slowly than I would like in achieving my goal of being a priest. I was so upset this past Thursday that I think I may have been moments away from throwing an actual temper tantrum.
I have become “the girl who waited.”
And, as it turns out, I have a lot in common with three other women who waited. I’ve written about them before. There is Amy Pond, known (long before me) as “the girl who waited,” when she packed her suitcase and slept outside waiting for the mysterious Doctor and his shiny blue blox to return for her.
There is Lucy Pevensie, a queen of Narnia, thrust back into our world after living almost a lifetime over there. Though C.S. Lewis doesn’t explicitly say so, I know Lucy spent many nights in front of that wardrobe, hoping it would take her back to Narnia. How could she not?
And then there is Mary Magdalene, waiting at Jesus’ tomb.
Three women, two fictional, one real, all three lives changed and upended by an incredible force of nature, an alien doctor, a lion, and the Son of God. All three given glimpses of a wonderful and rich universe. All three made to believe that they are so much more than they thought they could be. They are brave. They are courageous. They are beautiful and kind. And then all three have those worlds ripped away from them.
It was a long Saturday for Mary Magdalene. It was many long Saturdays for Amy and Lucy. I’m sure they felt abandoned. I’m positive they felt lost. But though their futures may have seemed gray and lifeless to them during those Saturdays, I’m also sure they still harbored hope.
Why else wait?
And wait they did.
It’s a hard thing to do when we’ve been given a glimpse of the life God means us to lead. Virtually every time I walk across the parking lot to seminary, I stop and look around, amazed that this is my life now. I keep thinking I’ve step into someone’s life. And, in a way, I have. I’ve stepped into the life that God has always intended for me.
But now that I have it, or have part of it, I want the whole thing. And I want it now.
I’ve been rereading my blog posts and have seen various common themes. It was in July that I first posted a quote from Timothy Keller who wrote, “Are you trying to hurry Jesus?”
I think my answer to that is obvious. Of course I am. In fact if God would give me a timeline, I might start counting seconds with Him, which is probably why God doesn’t give us timelines.
It’s agonizing. I’ve used that word before too.
But then I remember how much worse it was for Lucy wondering if she would ever get back to Narnia.
And I remember how devastating it was for Mary Magdalene as she sat by Jesus’ tomb.
And I remember that Lucy did get to Narnia three more times and in three different ways. And the Doctor did return for Amy Pond years later to whisk her away on many adventures across time and space.
And Jesus did return to Mary. He returned to her first. Just thinking of her joy brings tears to my eyes.
God never abandons us. He always returns. He’s always there. And with Him is joy.
What we are waiting for is so much more than two marshmallows. It is life itself. It is joy and wonder. It is healing. It is heaven on earth.
