Love is patient.

Once upon a time in a meeting for small group leaders at Spring Arbor University, the small groups coordinator had all of us leaders do an exercise that convicted me to my core and was taken from Francis Chan’s novel Crazy Love. Which, if you haven’t read, is because you’ve been living under a rock and I’d highly suggest you do so.

It takes 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 and asks you to replace the word “love” with your name. I’ll wait while you look up that verse and try it.

Still waiting.

Still waiting.

Still waiting.

So you did it?! Yeah, did you have as big a “WHOA.” moment as I did?

The first thing that Paul says love is… is patient.

My handy-dandy dictionary defines “patience” thusly: “The capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset.”

Hmm.

I am so guilty of impatience, it should be a crime. When God says “Not yet, wait for awhile”, I always -always- get angry or frustrated. I want what I want NOW because I always seem to have this unshakable feeling that if I don’t get it now I won’t get it at all. Even when God has proven himself faithful, I still don’t trust him to attend to that which is best for me. I don’t trust him to provide or take care of me.

This, in essence, is robbing my Lord of his everlasting power and provision. My lack of faith renders me useless as a workman at best, at worst it leaves me entirely susceptible and vulnerable to spiritual attack. And, something that I have found recently for myself is that if I cannot have basic trust in the one who has shown himself to me over and over again, I will trust no one. 

Do you know how damaging it is to trust no one? To believe no one’s good intentions and to question anyone’s empathetic heart? It’s entirely damaging to a human soul. A soul which refuses to be comforted isolates itself. And what’s the first rule of any enemy in battle? Pick off the vulnerable ones, the weak ones… the isolated ones. There is strength in numbers, and what it all comes back to is that our Christ, our Lord, does everything and reveals everything and commands everything solely for our protection, for our good, and for our betterment.

When we fully live inside of this knowledge, it allows us to love others as Christ loved us, with pure patience. Asking nothing of us, but demanding our all. It’s a beautiful paradox of true love that it accepts as is but transforms entirely, all simultaneously. It’s the God we were called unto and the one we desperately seek who waits for us and asks us to extend this same forbearance to those who surround us.

I’m officially challenged.

Spiritual Oprah.

Awhile ago, I read a blog I posted about having “both feet in”. And I was thoroughly captivated by the passion overflowing from my words. Where -WHERE?- had this girl gone? Where did she keep running off to? And how in the heck did I get her to stick around permanently? She seemed to pop in for a time and then fade away slowly, sinking into the wallpaper of my never-consistent life.

That’s when I realized: I am a Spiritual Oprah.

No offense to Oprah, I love that woman and all that she does. But she’s made no secret of her yo-yo dieting and back-and-forth struggles with her weight. In a new series in 2008, her “Oprah’s Best Life” series, she began the first segment with a very powerful statement: “I can’t believe I’m still talking about my weight.” It was simple and not dramatic in the slightest, but it was poignant. She had gone through transformation after transformation and yet here she was, still discussing it. The case hadn’t been closed.

I can’t believe I’m still talking about making my way back to a life of faith.

You’d think that after four years of wrestling, struggling, pushing, pulling, questioning, wanting, and searching I would be set in my ways and pursuing Christ with reckless abandon, especially after he’s shown his power time and again, over and over, his mercy never fails me.

But I’m still talking about. Because I’m still wrestling. I’m still struggling. I still fight him with every breath in my lungs and every ounce of my strength. I cannot seem to gain a foothold of consistency even with the best of intentions. I think, though, that a part of growing up is realizing that intentions are a mere fraction of what is necessary to remain steady, stable, and consistent.

God knows I’m not making any promises. I have come to a place in my life that seems as though God is looking at me and saying, “Okay. You’ve talked for a long time. Now go do. Make it or break it.” I know that he never abandons me. But I am far, far different. I abandon him constantly. I am approaching a place where it is time for me to take a step forward and, rather than just merely talking about the woman I want to become, it is time for me to become her. No more trifling or delaying, in the words of the great Rafiki from The Lion King: It is time.

Can I do it? Only with the strength of Christ. Stay tuned!