Why wait?
Let me tell you about Batman: The Ride. Batman: The Ride is an inverted roller coaster at Six Flags Great America in Gurnee, IL, USA, the first of its kind. Opened in 1992, it is a diabolical triumph of human engineering—a menace made of cold, twisted steel, sewer steam, and the pathetic shrieks of grown men. For me, Batman: The Ride is the greatest and best roller coaster of all time. Full stop, no contest. A deluge of nostalgia hits when I think about this ride—the stuff of daydreams, really. It heralds the raw energy of my childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood all at once. I can recall its sights, sounds, and smells in vivid detail.
Imagine that, losing your creepy fake eyeball at a theme park.
Despite all this shock and awe, I must admit it was several visits (years) before I finally got up enough nerve for a first attempt. That fateful day, I remember overhearing a kid ahead of me in line telling his friend how they’d had to shut down the ride one time because a man’s glass eye had fallen into the shadows beneath the track. Imagine that, losing your creepy fake eyeball at a theme park. Did the thought scare me? Yes, it did. But did I chicken out? Also yes.
Eventually, I rode Batman: The Ride, and it immediately became—and thereafter remained—the highlight of the park for me. I must have ridden it hundreds of times with my brothers, friends, classmates, and of course, lots of random strangers. And that’s because Batman: The Ride wasn’t just my favorite, it was everyone’s favorite. And, it occurred to me today, that popularity came with a price.
If riding the most thrilling roller coaster ever built was like jumping into a pool on a 100-degree day, waiting to ride it was like being slowly digested by a reticulated python. From our lowly place at the back of the line, we’d spy those lucky riders, feet dangling in the void above our heads, the lift cable click-clacking them toward the summit and far, far away from us. We’d hear the screams and feel the thunder of the track as the cars swooped and careened over our heads, and we’d resign ourselves to shuffling along through a labyrinth of partitions and body odor, unsure if we’d make it before the park closed. What. A. Drag.
Nobody likes waiting. We are wired for haste. When it comes to our desires and expectations, we aren’t looking to take our time. We don’t want to slow things down, we want to go fast. To be quick. Efficient. To find the fast lane. The shortest possible route. “Time is money,” after all, and we can’t seem to get enough of either.
My memories of Batman: The Ride serve as a window into one of life’s great dichotomies—the short versus the long. The contest between these two poles exerts great influence on my thoughts, feelings, and actions. Its battle cries echo in the chambers of my soul. My faith, my marriage, my parenting, my relationships, my career, my present, my future—all the most important elements of my life are subject to my perspective on time.
My favorite roller coaster might not have been, without all that waiting. Those long lines built up my excitement. After that first ride, the waiting filled me with anticipation, because I knew the value of the prize was worth the price. Was it still a major drag? Yes. Was I obsessed with figuring out when the lines would be the shortest? Of course. But waiting never stopped me.
King David writes in Psalms 25:
“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths. Lead me in your truth and teach me, for you are the God of my salvation; for you I wait all the day long.”
I am convinced that long is good. It is necessary. It is also misrepresented, misunderstood, and greatly undervalued. I’ll abstain from passing judgment on short, which has its place—I am here to shine a light on long. To seek perspective. To lay hold of hope amidst the unpredictability of life. To weather the storm. To reconcile my faith and my experiences. To consider, to sharpen, to excise and encourage. To explore. To resolve. I’ll write as openly and honestly as I can.
At the end of the day, long is about living with eternal perspective. For each and every person, there is hope for eternity. In probably the most recognized passage in all of the Bible, the Apostle John writes (3:16-17):
“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
There is something beyond us. Someone, actually. In John 14:1-3, Jesus explained it to his disciples this way:
“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.”
This world is not my home. I want to live in light of eternity. Long is my thing, and I am here to put in the work.