Lord, give me patience—right now!
Well, praying to God might help us to develop patience, but demanding it “right now” is probably not the best way to go. After all, developing patience requires patience.
My sweetheart gave me a wonderful complement at Applebee’s over lunch. We were celebrating getting our taxes done, and she said, “You are much more patient than you used to be.”
Getting a kind, encouraging word from anyone feels good. Getting a kind, encouraging word from someone you love is off-the-charts good.
However, I will confess that, for me at least, even a little improvement in patience was a long stride toward becoming a better person. I used to be one of the most impatient people I knew. I was impatient with my wife and our children. I was impatient on the road, at restaurants, in my professional life. I was even impatient with God.
Mostly, I was impatient with me.
So, how have I become a more patient person? I can answer that question with great confidence: I DON’T KNOW! However, I might have some suspicions.
Time may have helped a bit. However, I know plenty of old poops who are very impatient, so I’m not sure that merely living sixty-six years produces patience. Still, patience is partly a function of living long enough to outlive your enemies—including your impatience.
Other people have modeled patience for me. My mom, my father-in-law, friends—and above all my wife—have been incredibly patient with me. They not only showed me that patience could be done. They showed me how.
Then too, I became impatient with my impatience. At least, I became impatient with the results of my impatience. I finally discovered what should have been obvious all along: Impatience proves nothing, and improves even less. When I finally got tired of being impatient, I began to get off of “my long-legged horse,” as my oldest son once said. It is wonderful to get out of the saddle when you’ve been riding the impatience nag for so long.
Perhaps that prayer at the beginning of this post wasn’t too far off. Perhaps we just need to delete a few words, and add a few other words.
“Lord, give me patience—in your own good time.”
I have discovered what I want to be when I grow up: God! Why fool around with half-hearted desires? Go for the gold! Go for the God!
I discovered this (or rather, rediscovered it) yesterday afternoon at about 5:15. I was presenting a paper at the Stone-Campbell Scholars Conference. I don’t think it went very well. Immediately the voices in my head began to reproach me.
“Why aren’t you more organized? Why haven’t you read more scholarly books and articles? Why are you so lazy? Why are you so old? Why didn’t you start on this project earlier?”
The voices droned on and on. I went to bed with their dreary, accusatory voices droning away. Amazingly, however, I slept well. “He gives his beloved one sleep” (Psalm 127:2).
But, when I woke up early this morning, the voices began to whisper in my mind again. Soon, the “whispers” were blowing with a hurricane force.
And then, Truth spoke! The first thing Truth said was spoken, not to me, but to the voices. “Be quiet! Have a word with yourselves!” said Truth.
And then, having quieted Truth spoke to me. Not the superficial, distracted, insecure me, but the me that is essentially humble and good, and wants to be even better.
And Truth said, “Child what do you really want?”
“I don’t know,” I said. But I knew I was lying.
Truth remained silent, giving me time to hear my own lie.
And then, I told Truth a half-truth.
“I want to be good at everything I do.”
Still, Truth was still.
And I got still.
“No,” I said, “I want to be perfect!”
Truth smiled a little encouragement at me, but still said nothing. (I hate it when she does that.)
And finally, I told the truth.
“I want to be Perfect at everything!” I blurted out. “I want to be perfect at scholarship, perfect at teaching, perfect at writing, perfect at waiting tables, perfect at gardening, perfect at being a husband—PERFECT!”
I paused to catch my mental breath, and summed it all up in a very few, blasphemous words: I WANT TO BE GOD!”
Now, Truth smiled with her whole face. “Now, we’re getting somewhere,” she said.
And then, with a twinkle in her eyes, a twinkle that could have lit up a large city, Truth said, “I think that position has been filled already.” And then, Truth added (with the same twinkle), “If the job ever comes open, we’ll post it on the galactic internet.”
To be full of yourself is to be very empty indeed. To face the truth—not someone else’s truth, but your own—is to empty yourself of yourself. And then, Truth and God rush in to fill that emptiness.
And when Truth and God enter the emptiness, the voices are quiet, and I am free to be me again. I am full again.
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