We found ourselves in an Amish community barely different than the rest of America.

While on vacation in Waco, TX, my wife and I and our two friends visited an Amish community. It's a tourist attraction in the area because it has a bunch of cool shops and things. If shopping is your thing, it's neat. But I imagine that it's alternative culture is also a big appeal.

Yet, what totally took me by surprise was how modern everything looked. The shops all had electricity, a modern POS, and tons of trinkets that clearly weren't handmade by a guy named Jebediah. I saw some Tillamook cheese and I know it's factory-made because I've been to their factory in Oregon!

You could tell the Amish apart in the community because they were wearing plain long skirts or jeans and simple button-up shirts, despite it being over 90 degrees, but other than the plain dress, all preconceived notions about the Amish were smashed. I even saw an Amish woman pull out her smartphone as she waited for a cashier to ring up her items--a cashier who also had been using a smartphone a bit before!

I had noted earlier to my wife and friends about how the Amish defied the capitalistic notion of economic efficiency and also mindless entertainment for its own sake and joked that I need to evangelize to them about free-market capitalism. But when I arrived, I realized I didn't need to convert them. Yeah, they made their own cheese in a cave, but the whole operation had the stench of mass production.

But things started to feel more Amish once we found our way to the blacksmith shop. Suddenly, it felt like we stepped 300 years into the past. The blacksmith--a 37-year-old guy with no stereotypical Amish beard--forged iron products in red-hot coals like civilization has done for millennia.

He was happy to answer questions and show us the process. Along the way, he detoured into what I recognized as typical Amish polemics. He bemoaned but didn't exaggerate the fact that society is so obsessed with speed and wants to master things quickly. But iron-working requires patience and tons of practice. It is an art form. They handcraft things of beauty, but it takes time. He was currently working on a custom-ordered fireplace poker that had taken him the better part of the day. They are dedicated to excellence.

We probably only stayed with this guy for 30 minutes, but I couldn't help but immediately realize the wisdom in his thoughts about being a blacksmith. He's largely right that we these days value the cheap and easy because waiting is lame. Yet beauty comes with time. The most amazing things come when we are patient.

It reminds me of the story of Lazarus in John 11. I've always been struck by how Jesus heard his friend Lazarus was sick but then didn't do anything about it. Jesus purposefully dillydallied on his way to Bethany, arriving after Lazarus had died. Lazarus' sisters as well as the townsfolks were rightfully confused as to why Jesus didn't heal him when he was sick. Well, Jesus showed them why. He wanted to raise Lazarus from the dead. The greater miracle occurred that day. And the Gospel of John records that this miracle changed the hearts of a lot of people--and got plenty of people mad. Waiting created beauty and changed the plot.

Reflecting on this passage as well as the process of making art, Makoto Fujimura says in Art and Faith: "The art of waiting depends upon our willingness to die to ourselves and trust in God. Art, poetry, and music all depend on waiting. There is no music without pauses. There is no art if we are unwilling to wait for paint to dry" (134).

In our fast-paced gimme-gimme culture, slow is bad. Waiting is boring. We prioritize function over form.

But in the Kingdom of God, as Christ-centered creatures, we understand that waiting begets beauty. The most amazing things happen when we put in the time.

I don't know what isn't happening on your timetable. But just wait for it. Maybe, just maybe, God is molding you in the hot coals. It takes time and care, but the finished product will be beautiful.

Wait and see that the Lord is good,

Jake Doberenz