Patience Isn't Such an Ugly Word, After All

People jokingly say to "never pray for patience."  I think that's because in my lifetime, patience has become an "ugly word."  It's the very last thing you want to hear when you are going through a trying time.  You can test me on this and see.  The next time someone you love is having a hard time, try to tell them to just have a little patience.  On second thought...don't try me on this.  You might just get punched in the eye!  
 Yet, in my aging years, I'm finding out that patience is not such an ugly word, after all.  Instead, it is something to welcome into our lives, because it works in us to make us into who God created us to be.  You see, if we never pray for patience - if it's something to avoid, rather than seek after - then we will never grow up!  We will stay babes in Christ, drinking milk when we should be chomping on steak!  

How do I know?  Well, take a look at James 1:2-4:  

My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience.  But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. 

So, if we truly believe the Word - if we truly believe that what God says is true - then we will accept patience into our lives as a good thing...something that works in us, causing us to be "perfect and complete, lacking nothing."  

Now that phrase doesn't mean that we will one day wake up completely sinless and be perfect in our every action and attitude.  Instead, it means that one day, if we allow patience to have its way in us, then we will wake up mature, "grown up" in our spiritual walk with the Lord...empowered to fulfill His perfect Plan and Will for our lives completely.  

Notice that I said, "If we allow patience...."  You see, we have the ability to short-circuit this work.  We can keep patience from doing its job in our lives.  "How?" you may ask.  I'll tell you how - by simply not choosing it!!!  

For instance, it's a whole lot easier to blow up at your children when you are having a bad day, than choose to work through your anger, and act with kindness and gentleness despite your emotional upheaval.  It's a whole lot easier to grumble and complain when things don't go your way at work, than it is to choose to accept what comes your way as part of God's plan for you.  It's a whole lot easier to gossip about your brother or sister in Christ when they falter, than it is to choose to pray that he/she would receive forgiveness and grow in Christ. 

So, I challenge us all today - as I sit at this computer trying to concentrate and type while a young child in my home beats loudly on a foam shark - to let patience have its perfect work...to allow God to use that "ugly word" to grow us up...to make us mature Believers...to make us who we were destined to be in Christ.    

Dear Jesus, I pray for patience today, and as I find myself in situations that require me to choose patience over impatience, that You would remind me of James 1:2-4.  Grow me up in You, Jesus.  Complete me...that I may lack nothing in my relationship with You.  Thank You, Lord.  

When I Am Afraid, I Will Trust in You...

For all those who are struggling with an on-going battle of some illness or heartache...for all those whose hearts are tired and whose bodies are weak...for all those whose souls ache for rest...for all of you...a story of hope...a story of understanding...a story of the Father's love.  

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who was very sick.  Every day was a struggle.to just get out of bed.  She was mentally tired and physically worn down.  Her body was weakened by the sickness that grew within her, and it seemed her bad days were becoming more frequent than ever.  Her heart ached for the days when she could run and play as she used to, but she just didn't have the energy any longer.  Besides, if she did overexert herself, even for a few minutes, she knew she would "pay for it" later, and it just didn't seem worth it anymore.   

She was so tired of all the doctors.  So far, she had been a good patient, but this day, she'd had enough.  As she and her dad pulled up to the doctor's office, a mixture of panic and anger began to rise into every fiber of her being.  She was tired of all the poking and prodding.  She knew what awaited her in that office, so she decided enough was enough.  She had had it.  She was done.     

Her Dad got out of the driver's seat and opened the passenger door.  The little girl remained rigid and still, her hands clasped firmly in her lap.  Her seatbelt remained untouched and securely in place.  Her dad lovingly leaned into the car and said, "Honey, it's time to go in." 

"But I don't want to," she said emphatically, sounding a lot like a two-year old.  "You always bring me here, and it hurts every time.  If you were a good daddy, you wouldn't make me go in."  

The father looked down, as tears filled his own eyes.  "Sweetie, you don't have a choice.  You have to do it this way.  It's not my fault that you are here, but it is my responsibility as your daddy to make sure you don't miss this appointment." 

"Why?  What kind of a good daddy would make his child sit through some strange man poking her with needles.  The medicine they give me, makes me feel sick.  It makes me tired and feel like I don't want to get out of bed."  Tears filled her own eyes, as she looked away from the gaze of her father.  She didn't want him to see her cry.  She wanted him to know how angry she was, how unfair she thought he was for bringing her here.  She was angry at him...at the doctor...at the nurses...at everyone in her life who had anything to do with this sickness. 

Suddenly, she felt his hand gently wrap around her arm.  "Honey, it's time.  We've got to go," he said. 

"No!" she screamed  "I'm not going! I don't want to." and she pulled her arm, trying to break free from the grasp that held her tightly.  The daddy gently reached in with the other arm and unbuckled the seat belt, which still clung to her ever-tightening fingers.  "I'm sorry, honey, but you've got to go in.  You don't have a choice...and I don't either.  You have to do this.  You won't get better, if you don't go in.  I'll be with you the whole time.  I won't let go of your hand.  I won't let them take you from me...ever." 

"But it hurts," the little girl finally turned her attention towards her dad and noticed for the first time, the own hurt covering his face.  Somehow, that comforted her.  

"I know.  I wish there was another way.  I wish I could make this all go away, right now, but that's not how it works.  The medicine - this shot that you hate so badly - all this is not just because I want to hurt you.  It's because I know this is what will make you well."  A smile covered his face, almost as if he could see into the future - her running, playing, completely free of any pain and suffering.  "This is what will heal you," he said.  "If staying home in bed would take away this sickness from your body and make you stronger, I would let you do it.  But the longer you fight me on this, the longer you resist your own healing.  The longer and harder it will be to get well."  

"Please, just come with me," he pleaded.  "Trust me, my love.  I would never let them do anything to you that didn't NEED to be done.  I would never put you through something, just to make you suffer.  I know what I'm doing.  Please, don't fight me.  It just prolongs your healing.  Come...walk with me.  I'll be with you the whole time.  I'll be the one to hold your head when the room is spinning.  I'll be the one to pick you up and carry you back out to the car when you're too dizzy to walk.  I'll be the one to take you back home.  And tomorrow, we'll get up, and I'll cook you your favorite breakfast, and you'll see, you'll feel better.  Trust me.  Just trust me," said the dad.   

Seeing the father's compassionate eyes and hopeful smile, brought to mind all the times he had done exactly what he had said.  He had never left her.  He had always taken such good care of her.  He had held her hand in the waiting room and again in the room with the doctor.  

Then it hit her - as hard as anything ever had - He really wasn't going to leave her.  He really would be with her the whole time.  She could see that he didn't want her to go through this, but that he was doing what was best for her - to help her get well. 

Her clenched fists loosened.  Her muscles relaxed.  She let go. 

Fearful and teary eyed, she let him help her out of the car.  She jumped into his arms, sobbing on his shoulders.  When they reached the door, she picked up her head and looked deep into his eyes.  "I'm scared...but I trust you," she said.  And with that, the biggest grin covered his tear-stained face.   "You just wait.  You'll see.  I have so much planned for us after this.   You can't even begin to imagine the fun we'll have together.  You'll get stronger and be able to do things you were never able to do before.  Come on, let's go do this thing." 

And they did. 

The dad was right.  She did get stronger.  The disease that racked her body, could not fight against the medicine the shot provided. 

But that wasn't the best thing that happened. 

You see, the best thing that happened was that the daddy and the daughter's relationship grew deeper.  The little girl learned that she really could trust her dad...that even when it looked like he was being mean, he wasn't.   He really was doing what was best for her...for her healing.  He really was trustworthy...even when she was afraid.  

When I am afraid, I will trust in You. (Ps. 56:3).