Patience may be a virtue, but it’s rarely one of mine.
Several events this past week tested my patience. I grew restless when my package, arriving early thanks to one-day delivery, landed on my porch at the end of the day instead of mid-day. I fretted when my food failed to arrive promptly at a restaurant. I sat at the doctor’s office—antsy.
Of course, every morning I desperately await the coffee slowly dripping through its filter, but I consider that medicinal (more of an emergency situation) and so outside the bounds of normal patience.
With such attitudes in mind, I’m grateful to embrace this promise: The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.
While I’m impatient toward others, I’m so grateful for the Lord’s patience with me. This passage beautifully reveals the broad mercy of the Lord—not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance.
As I ponder this, I realize that I exhibit patience in at least one area of life—my garden. I enjoy the slow emergence of flowering plants throughout the spring and summer, and picking the blackberries, raspberries and strawberries ripe on their vines. At this time of year I appreciate the gradual fade of fall into winter.
My garden, and nature around me, gives me a hint of the Lord’s patience. I’ll enjoy this season, contemplating God’s incredible goodness—and patience—towards me and you and the folks all around us.
1 Peter 3 in week forty-two of reading the Bible cover to cover
Photo by R O
Patience is hard. I struggle with myself. I do believe that through the storms I go through that I am getting closer to being more patience than before the storm.