The paradox of patience.

Mar 17

Patience is both gentle and edgy. Even when we’re uncomfortable. Especially when we’re uncomfortable. And paradoxically, it can call us into even more discomfort.

Here’s where I’m going with this…

Lately I’ve been coming back to patience and remembering that slow does not mean ‘not yet’. It’s an invitation for me to be patient. And when we are patient with ourselves, we are being gentle. And also, when' we’re patient, we’re obedient. Obedience requires a certain level of sharpness. Of edge. To be obedient to who I say that I am, is to trust that the pathway is making itself known, even if I can’t see it right now.

Patience has felt particularly relevant in the process of producing 21 Days of Tender. A constant invitation, that “no, not yet” might be the most tenderizing thing we can experience. And yet, what beautiful gifts lie in that space too (when we are willing to see them).

Patience. One of the fruits of the spirit.

One of the gifts that I personally have been called to deeply practice in this life. I’m certain I'm not alone. And while I feel deeply called to practice it, I’ve often been told what incredible levels of patience I have.

Fascinating, as paradoxically, this is a gift that I was told most of my childhood, I lacked. When we think of the word patience, what comes to mind is how we cannot truly be patient without gentleness. Maybe we don’t fully understand what patience means. What if it is simply being more gentle, but standing firm and obedient?

Gentleness comes from the heart, and it starts within. If we aren't gentle with ourselves, are we truly patient either? Gentleness is such a beautiful heart energy. Obedience feels edgy, but it too, comes from the heart.

It is in being gentle with ourselves and with others, in any process, particularly a tender one, that we can move through intensity with more ease.

We cannot fake patience.

It calls us forth. And a call to be more patient is often an experience that can be confronting, illuminating, or show us where we're being faced with opposition.

To be patient is to be gentle, firm, obedient. And in today’s society, that’s edgy.
To be patient is to be invited to exercise precision.
To be patient is to know that we must surrender to speed and practice unwavering faith in the unseen.

Think about a challenging interaction with a child, or a coworker, or a client.

If we're in a heated moment, throwing patience out the window, only intensifies the interaction. When was the last time you came to a resolve if you didn't apply patience and gentleness to a tender situation? It doesn't solve anything. To throw patience out the window, doesn't solve anything.

It may very well illuminate more. But it doesn't more quickly help us come to a resolve.
Patience, presence, precision, and gentleness—that all shifts the energy. And sometimes actually, it can be sharp. But we tend as humans to... associate sharp with a negative connotation. But sharp is precise. It’s an edge that we are called to meet.

Patience as precision. This is not about disregarding disrespectful behaviour. But firmly, with gentleness, seeking clarity.

Letting something breathe. This is patience. And it requires gentleness.

Sometimes it's not about an acute interaction, where we're called to have patience, but it's a long game. A willingness to let go of a timeline. Sometimes, patience is also trusting that there are things which we need to completely and utterly allow to be undone, in order for prayers to be answered.

We all have that one thing, (sometimes, many things), where a thousand times over, we want it to hit, publish, make the call, get on stage, book the ticket, say the dang thing. We want to act on the impulse. And there is a time and place for that. Patience is not to be confused with procrastination.

When patience is calling, it’s God saying, not yet. I've still got work to do in you. That is a call for patience.

Patience, patience, patience.

It is a constant reminder of our gifts. A constant reminder of our gifts and... where we can practice more precision.

Found this line of scripture recently, “The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride.” Ecclesiastes 7:8.

The patient ones are willing to move slow. They choose obedience, over trends, or expectations of others.

So, next time you’re wondering why something hasn’t “happened yet”, notice.

Notice where you're not willing to move slow.
Notice where your obedience to the truth is being tested.
Notice where you're not willing to let something breathe.
Notice where you're not willing to be obedient—with yourself, with your plans, with others, to God.
Notice what comes to mind when you reflect on where you could exercise more patience.

We all have at least one relevant example.

I once heard, “Don't confuse God's patience for you for slow”. That really stuck with me, and it keeps coming back again and again and again, because this is the refinement. These are the waiting rooms.

These are the tender places.

These are the places where when we choose patience, what comes next only amplifies our unwavering faith. And, yes, might tenderize us. But patience has this air of authority. Of conviction. Of groundedness, of gentleness, of ease.

We cannot truly steward anything that we're not willing to embody, with patience. Patience is a key ingredient. If you're being called to guide people in any way, which, in some shape or form, we all are, the fruit of patience will deliver more gifts than we can imagine possible.

So, get honest with yourself, in this season of tenderness. Notice and ask: “Where can I wholeheartedly choose to be more patient?”

And in doing so, witness some of the tender places.
Witness them become more spacious, feel more nourished, and eventually, less tender.

If this contemplation speaks to you, consider 21 days of these shares in audio format, accompanied by journal prompts and practical application for your day to day. We only ever have the now moment. Tend to your tender seasons, and shift your perspective on how experiences arise.