They Who Wait Upon the Lord

The Red Sea Place

Have you come to the Red Sea place in your life,

Where, in spite of all you can do,

There is no way out, there is no way back, 

There is no other way but through?

Then wait on the Lord with a trust serene 

Till the night of your fear is gone;

He will send the wind, He will heap the floods, 

When He says to your soul, "Go on."

Like the first line says, “Have you come to the Red Sea place in your life”? Are circumstances in your life leaving you emotionally exhausted? Is physical pain making you weary and unable to face daily tasks?

The poem above was written by Annie Johnson Flint, a woman who encouraged and inspired countless people through her poems and hymns. A woman who knew very well what it meant to wait on the Lord.

As a very young woman in her second year of teaching, she was diagnosed with severe arthritis that, within just a few short years, took away her ability to walk. Having already suffered the loss of her parents as a child, she was now faced with a devastating future.

And so she started to write. Her swollen, aching fingers penned beautiful, poignant words and phrases – all giving glory to God, and offering hope to the afflicted. As I read some of her writings, I saw that she surely found comfort in Isaiah 40:29 “He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.” Although her body remained weak, her ability to write brought her life strength and purpose. The power in her words influenced generations of believers. 

 

The words in another poem by Annie Johnson Flint illustrate the strength and power that she found as she waited on the Lord.

The Threefold Promise

Oh, wonderful promises given

To those who wait on the Lord;

Strength for the faint who have fallen,

Power for weakness outpoured.

Blessed the threefold assurance

Thrilling the soul like a song:

They shall mount up as the eagles

On wide wings and swift wings and strong;

Run with the stride of the racer,

Leaping unwearied and free,

Till he comes to the end of his journey

And the crown of his effort shall see.

But the word for the worn and the weary,

Who know not the rapture of wings,

Who know not the joy of the runner,

What infinite comfort it brings!

Walk and not faint; the slow steppings,

The plodding dull round of the days,

The toil and the heat and the burdens,

The wearying halts and delays.

Oh, promise for those who are walking,

Who falter and stumble and fall,

The courage, the strength and the patience,

This is the sweetest of all.