Thoughts on patience

I am now so far behind on all the things that I’ve wanted to blog about that I wonder if it’s hopeless to try and catch up. Since early October when I last really wrote anything, I’ve felt caught in a vice grip of busyness and duty. More this year than last, I feel the pressure to be over-involved, over-committed, and over-worked. More than last year, I am driven crazy by the culture of busyness around me, the stress I see in my students, and the oh-so-North-American tendency to equate personal worth with activity.

Not coincidentally, the last week before break, I discovered that I can be quite a negative and cranky person when I’m feeling impatient to be somewhere else! Looking forward to this break at home, it was hard for me to have patience with students who don’t seem to listen, can’t seem to do assignments on time, who suddenly realize they’re in danger of failing and show up at my office door for help. It’s ugly to look at myself and see so much impatience and negativity. I know that it is the consequence of a heart that is not always resting in the Lord as it should be. I am aware of the fact that even though I know in my head that I should be going to God, clinging to Him for strength, encouragement and direction, I still can’t seem to make the heart-move toward Him as I should.

One thought I’ve had about this came during a chapel service at school last week – a friend was talking about the parables of the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin and the Prodigal Son. Even though we’ve all heard these stories about a million times, I heard some new ideas in them. For one, the speaker pointed out the fact that, in the story of the lost sheep, when the shepherd finds the one who has wandered away, he isn’t frustrated or angry or scolding toward the sheep. He is ecstatic that the sheep is now back with him; he rejoices. What I heard in this story was God saying to me that He isn’t impatient with me, or with my struggles. I am impatient with myself, with others, with the processes of life, with having to learn the same lessons again and again. But God is not frustrated with me, or impatient with my wandering. He is just delighted when I come close to Him again.

Another new idea I heard in the story of the Prodigal Son was something I hadn’t seen before. When the son finally realizes he needs to return home, that the life he’s chosen is not fulfilling or joyful, he decides that he is willing to be a servant in his father’s house. Instead of accepting him as a servant, the father opens his arms and welcomes him not as a servant, but as a son.

I see in myself a tendency to behave simply as God’s servant, dutifully doing the things He’s asked me to, following through on commitments, doing what’s expected. But I can do these things with an empty heart. And God doesn’t just want me for a servant. He doesn’t NEED me for His servant. No, He wants me for His daughter. He wants me close to Him – more than anything I might do or think I’m offering.

Why is this a harder position to accept? Because intimacy is scarier, and demands more?

I don’t know. But right now, as I type this in the comfortable new guestroom at my parent’s new house, I have a million thoughts going through my head. I’m struggling to find time in this busy week of meetings and errands and reunions to sit still and be with God. I’m struggling to lay down a pile of anxieties and duties of the coming weeks and months. I’m blessed by conversations with friends – conversations about real discipleship, real following of Jesus. I’m tired, a little weary, but so filled by the site of snow on mountains and the gold colors of late autumn leaves.