“I have just three things to teach:  Simplicity, patience and compassion.  These three are the greatest treasures.” Lao Tsu

“I waited patiently for the Lord; And God reached down to me and heard my cry.” Psalm 40:1

Today we move on to the them of patience which St. Paul mentions as the fourth gift of the Spirit in Galatians 5.

This time of year ushers in a time of waiting.  We wait for the leaves to change, the snow to fall, the holidays of Thanksgiving and Christmas to come and family and friends to arrive with whom to celebrate those holidays.  In the midst of the “big waiting”, we also each have other things we are waiting for.  What is it that you are awaiting? 

All of this waiting demands patience.  And this is where things get dicey and difficult.  We’re not good at patience, are we?  It seems as if much of life is a test of our patience. Our patience is tested by a host of things, whether that be traffic, job tasks, or other people—especially the ones who seem to have been placed in our path to purposefully annoy us!  Even God tests our patience, by not providing what we want, need or ask for in the time frame that we expect.  You might be familiar with the prayer for patience.  It goes like this: “God give me patience, and give it to me NOW!” 

I wonder if it would help if we viewed patience as a spiritual practice?  It seems as if it has been so for God’s people.  The psalmist, quoted above, is apparently waiting patiently to be delivered from affliction.  The people of old waited for a Messiah.  St. Paul says that when the time had fully come God sent his son.  But we fail to appreciate the fullness of time was thousands of years!  And after the Ascension of Christ people have been waiting for His return.

In light of all this the question is not so much what we are waiting for, but how we are waiting?  What is the practice of patience?  What does it look like, or better put feel like, to wait patiently? 

It looks like setting aside our time frame.  Einstein said that time is an illusion. God is eternal and thus is outside of time.  So our idea of when something might happen, or someone might arrive, is irrelevant. It is our construct. I was reminded of this while living in Papua New Guinea.  Time meant almost nothing there.  It seemed impossible to be late for something.  I remember asking, shortly after I arrived, when a worship service would begin.  The answer I received was, “When everyone arrives.”  Shortly thereafter I stopped wearing my watch.

It also looks like living in the moment.  Yes, we are waiting, but what are we doing or being while we wait?  Projecting our thoughts into the future simply robs us of the present.

It also might look like paying close attention to what is happening inside of us.  Are we experiencing turbulence, anxiety, getting upset, worried, etc.?  If so, why is this happening, and what internal change is needed in order to not be so unsettled?

So what are you waiting for?

Maybe a better question is, “How are you waiting?”

What does “waiting patiently” look like for you?

What can you implement into your daily practice to help you wait patiently, on whatever or whomever it might be?