Being Patient in 2015

“Patience is a hard discipline. It is not just waiting until something happens over which we have no control: the arrival of the bus, the end of the rain, the return of a friend, the resolution of a conflict. Patience is not a waiting passivity until someone else does something. Patience asks us to live the moment to the fullest, to be completely present to the moment, to taste the here and now, to be where we are. When we are impatient we try to get away from where we are. We behave as if the real thing will happen tomorrow, later and somewhere else. Let’s be patient and trust that the treasure we look for is hidden in the ground on which we stand” (Henri Nouwen).

Patience is easy in theory and much harder in practice. As the old saying goes, you never pray for patience unless you want what little patience you possess to be severely tested. Or in my case, you find out how completely impatient you are.

I do think that patience is not passively waiting. It means you prepare yourself for the future God has in store for you.

That means you confess any sin that might hinder the work of God in your life and you stay daily surrendered to whatever God calls you to and to whoever He calls you to be.

I still suck both at patience and at waiting. Blame it on my ADD. Blame it on my passive nature. I wish I could say that at this point in my life that I’ve mastered these two disciplines. I haven’t.

But I also believe that even when I pray “Lord, I want to believe. Help my unbelief,” even that mustard-size faith– so small it barely registers as faith at all– can move mountains and change the world. It can change my world.

It has never been about big faith in God, or I’d be totally screwed. It’s about faith in a big God who can take the tiniest beginnings of faith and trust and work wonders with those.

Lord, as always, I believe. I want to believe. I try to believe. Help my unbelief.

For the Third Sunday of Advent

I’ve invited a special guest for tonight’s blog. Actually, I read something I really liked that he wrote and I wanted to share it with you. It’s from Henri Nouwen and I love it. I hope you will, too.

“Keep your eyes on the prince of peace, the one who doesn’t cling to his divine power; the one who refuses to turn stones into bread, jump from great heights and rule with great power; the one who says, ‘Blessed are the poor, the gentle, those who mourn, and those who hunger and thirst for righteousness; blessed are the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers and those who are persecuted in the cause of uprightness’ (see Matt. 5:3-11); the one who touches the lame, the crippled, and the blind; the one who speaks words of forgiveness and encouragement; the one who dies alone, rejected and despised. Keep your eyes on him who becomes poor with the poor, weak with the weak, and who is rejected with the rejected. He is the source of all peace.

Where is this peace to be found? The answer is clear. In weakness. First of all, in our own weakness, in those places of our hearts where we feel most broken, most insecure, most in agony, most afraid. Why there? Because there, our familiar ways of controlling our world are being stripped away; there we are called to let go from doing much, thinking much, and relying on our self-sufficiency. Right there where we are weakest the peace which is not of this world is hidden.

In Adam’s name I say to you, ‘Claim that peace that remains unknown to so many and make it your own. Because with that peace in your heart you will have new eyes to see and new ears to hear and gradually recognize that same peace in places you would have least expected.’

I have nothing to add to that. Except maybe to claim my own weakness and in so doing, that peace which defies human logic and anything the world and hell could ever throw at me.