Patience…start with yourself; keep going

(Part of the ‘four weekly words’ series usually found in my Substack notes, which I believe all subscribers receive

We’re not where we want to be; as individuals, families, churches, nations. In fact, there are times when the trajectory of any one or all of these seems to be heading in exactly the wrong direction. The anger, discouragement, and sense of helplessness that arise in such times require an important ingredient in our personalities if we’re going to ‘go the distance’ as people of hope, which is what we’re invited to do.

CS Lewis speaks of our destiny when he writes: “Be ye perfect” is not idealistic gas. Nor is it a command to do the impossible . . . [God] said (in the Bible) that we were “gods” and He is going to make good His words . . . He will make the feeblest and filthiest of us into a god or goddess, dazzling, radiant, immortal creatures, pulsating all through with such energy and joy and wisdom and love as we cannot now imagine, a bright stainless mirror which reflects back to Him perfectly (though, of course, on a smaller scale) His own boundless power and delight and goodness. The process will be long and in parts very painful; but that is what we are in for. Nothing less. He meant what he said.”

Paul the Apostle said it this way, ‘we are all being transformed, from glory to glory…’ by the Spirit of God who is at work in us. But this transformation requires us learning to fix our gaze on God’s glory, and learning takes time. Gains on our capacity to do this will be made with fits and starts, neither quickly nor in a linear upward fashion. We will drift, being seduced by trinkets and ransacked by disappointments, lusts, and setbacks.

Even when we manage to fix our gaze on Christ, our transformation will be so slow most times as to be imperceptible. Like the 200 year old Hemlock tree growing outside my window as I write, growth is happening, just not perceptibly. It’s our lack of perception that creates discouragement, and this often leads to disengagement as we turn our gaze toward other things, things that offer more immediate gratification and feel more real.

That’s why patience matters. Like learning to climb a mountain or run a marathon, those hungry to display more of Christ’s character must learn to relax, settle in for a long journey of transformation, and enjoy the ride. Along the way we’ll do soul work, shedding lies we’ve believed, self medicating escape mechanisms, and values in which both the world and religion have baptized us. In addition, we’ll learn through failures, tedious tasks, and difficulties in relationships. That’s fine, because the destination is worth the journey.

But there’s more. It’s vital in this journey that we also learn to be patient with others because each person is carrying a different set of baggage and has different lenses through which they assess the present moment. Some can’t see the destination yet, believing that ‘Christ likeness’ isn’t worth pursuing (perhaps because they see so much being carried out in the name of Christ that is ugly). Others are intent on the goal, but have missed some signposts along the way, thinking their doctrinal purity is the same thing as Christ likeness, being blind to the fact that when doctrines lead to pride, judgement, and self righteousness, they’re having the exact opposite affect of the true journey. Others see the goal, but between their present state and transformation there’s pain to be faced and the hard work of confession, forgiveness, and learning to live out from a new identity. Be patient with everyone you meet. When they’re ready to learn, the teacher will come, and it might just be you, so keep loving, as much as possible. Stop demanding that people see what you see today. Recognize that what you see took you years to discover, and that everything you think see so clearly right now isn’t accurate anyway. That way, you’ll be patient with both yourself and others.

I recently read the classic book ‘The Man Who Planted Trees’. It’s a short, powerful story whose premise is deceptively simple: In 1913, a young hiker traverses the barren, wind-scoured highlands of Provence, a landscape so bleak it drives inhabitants to madness or exodus. There he encounters a silent shepherd methodically planting oak trees—one hundred perfect acorns daily, year after year, asking nothing in return. The narrator returns after both world wars to discover this solitary man's quiet, relentless labor has miraculously transformed thousands of acres of wasteland into a vibrant, water-rich forest ecosystem where communities once again thrive.

What makes "The Man Who Planted Trees" truly dangerous isn't its ecological message but its fundamental challenge to our understanding of time, purpose, and what constitutes a meaningful life. One author notes: Bouffier plants trees he will never sit beneath. He creates forests without recognition or reward. He persists through two world wars, through personal tragedy, through complete societal collapse and reconstruction, doing exactly one thing: planting perfectly selected seeds in precisely the right places, then letting nature and time do what they will.The shepherd is sowing seeds of hope today, full well knowing that the fruit of his investment won’t be fully seen for generations.

What if we sowed seeds for our own transformation and fruitfulness and the fruitfulness of our world in the same manner, just faithfully showing up each day and doing those things which enable us to love God, deal with our baggage, and love other people? What if we were patient, not demanding immediate results, but believing that, in the end, good things happen to those who sow the right seeds faithfully?

One of my favorite passages in the Bible is Ecclesiastes 11, which reminds us: ‘sow your seed Int he morning and do not be idle in the vending, for you do not know whether morning or evening sowing will succeed or whether both will succeed.’ In other words: keep showing up, day after day, with the quiet confidence that good things will happen.