The Fruits: Patience

 

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.

Galatians 5:22-23

Patience! So many opportunities to practice it! Modern life is hurried and frenzied, and we are surrounded with the opposite.

The kind of patience that its the fruit of the Spirit, however, wells up at key times. The fruit of patience pays huge dividends in relationships too. Small children with learn slowly. Husbands who can't seem to handle emotions clearly. Co-workers who ignore our requests. Family members who just don't see things my way. Patience buys me room for healing, bonding, communicating—whatever it takes to love them as we are commanded. Easy? No. Source of grace? You bet. Do I do it well? Ah....

There are other impacts of spiritual patience. Waiting in traffic or in line become opportunities for prayer and praise.

A deeper more profound aspect of patience deals with the advent that is our life in this world. We are always, always waiting for the coming of Jesus. He comes to us in prayer. He comes to us in the Eucharist. He'll come for us at the end of our lives. He'll come at the end of time. Sometimes I want to stomp my foot and say "COME lord Jesus." He smiles and the Spirit says, "Patience."

Emptiness

 Last week I found a little book I had forgotten, shoved back on my bookshelf behind heavier things. It was The Reed of God, one once dear to my heart. I've been reading it every night and so it is again.

She begins with emptiness, the necessity if we are to be filled with Christ, We must be empty; we must be filled; and then—only then—and can we be the hands, the feet, and the beating heart that carries Christ where He wishes to go.

She speaks of three kinds of emptiness. The reed is the delicate emptiness through which the music of God can flow. The chalice is the solid emptiness in which sacrifice, necessary, and needed, can occur. A next is a soft emptiness in which life can be nurtured. We are, she says, all called to our own specific emptiness in order to be what He wishes.

My first image of God was of as the hub of the wheel that is my life. In that vision, a world of people, things, issues, worries, activity flowed in a chaotic circle held in place and given meaning by that hub.  She suggests a different image, one in which we enter into the emptiness at the center, by freeing our minds and souls of the chatter and the noise. It is harder than it sounds. I'm reminded of a mantra He gave me long ago: Listen; don't talk.

Advent is a good time to let the quiet seep in.