In a previous season of my life, I learned that patience is not simply the act of waiting. Instead, patience is how one waits. Patience is the difference between waiting in anxious frustration, and waiting in calm equanimity.
In this season of my life, I’m learning to perfect my patience by not waiting at all. You need time? You’ve got it, but I’m not waiting. I’ll be moving ahead with something else. I surrender any expectations – a feat I owe to God’s grace. In this way, patience is an exercise in discipline.
Meanwhile, human beings are fallen and susceptible to hubris. We have desires, expectations and tend to want to control outcomes. This is why patience, which I understand as the discipline to detach from outcomes, challenges so many. Releasing control (or the illusion thereof) often means facing feelings of vulnerability, and requires courage. It is about cultivating the self-control required to surrender to the unknown.
Beyond courage, however, this manner of detachment requires faith. Faith is having such clarity about eternal truths that detachment from specific outcomes becomes possible: God is in charge; God is love; I am chosen; God is working things out for my good; etc. The question, therefore, is not just “In whose time will this happen?,” but “Who would presume to know better than the Creator?”
This understanding reveals why patience is such a powerful heart posture. The Word tells us that “without faith it is impossible to please God.” Patience, like the other fruits of the Spirit, is a posture of profound inner-strength. It is about trusting God’s Word – His love, grace, and timing. All is and will be exactly as it should be.
I know that my life unfolds in the hand of a Sovereign God and according to His perfect plan. From that perspective, impatience seems quite futile really. I don’t need to know or control everything, I only need to stay connected to the One who does.
Prayer is rooted in the belief that there is a power greater than oneself that can influence one’s life. The Latin word from which “prayer” is derived means “obtained by begging, to entreat.”
There is no set way to pray. Prayer has a very personal meaning arising from an individual’s religious background or spiritual practice. For some, prayer will mean specific sacred words; for others, it may be a more informal talking or listening to God or a higher power.
My own prayers are typically spoken prayers, silent prayers, and prayers of the mind, the heart, and what I can best describe as ‘union with God’. Prayers take different forms; they may be directed (with a specific outcome in mind) or non-directed. They may be intercessory, contemplative, meditative or petition.
Though what is true about prayer across the board is that it helps improve my spiritual health. Prayer helps me develop a relationship with God [1], helps me gain an understanding of God’s loving nature [2], and provides answers [3]. Prayer also helps me find direction in my life [4], gives me strength to avoid temptation [5].
Prayer invites the Holy Spirit into my life [6], aligns my will with God’s will [7], and helps me become more like Jesus [8]. Along with fasting, prayer helps me accept God’s will [9].
Moreover, prayer improves my overall wellbeing. I was surprised to learn that there has been research conducted on this issue. The research concludes that prayer can calm one’s nervous system, shutting down the fight or flight response. It can make one less reactive to negative emotions and less angry.
When prayer uplifts or calms, it inhibits the release of cortisol and other hormones, thus reducing the negative impact of stress on the immune system and promoting healing.
Ultimately, prayer begets peace. It elicits the relaxation response, which lowers blood pressure and other factors heightened by stress. It also releases control to something greater than oneself, which can reduce the stress of needing to be in charge.
Prayer brings a sense of a spiritual or loving presence and alignment with God which elicits feelings of gratitude, compassion, forgiveness, and hope, all of which are associated with healing and wellness.
– Lele M
Notes:
[1] Just like my parents here on earth, my Heavenly Father wants to hear from me and talk to me. When I pray, He listens. Then He answers my prayers.
[2] The scriptures teach, “God is love” (1 John 4:8). I can feel that love as I speak daily with Him through prayer, seeking His guidance in my life.
[3] Praying and listening to the answers God gives me can help me better understand my purpose in life.
[4] When I privately pray to God, I can work through serious decisions in my life. God always listens and often provides the specific answers and guidance we seek. Even when He chooses not to answer immediately or in the way we might have hoped, prayer itself is a way to find peace.
[5] Jesus counseled His disciples, “Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation” (Matthew 26:41). Through prayer, I can overcome temptations to sin. Praying for God’s help to keep me from making wrong choices gives me the strength to do what is right.
[6] As I pray daily, I invite the Holy Spirit to be with me and to comfort and direct me. The Holy Spirit can give me answers, help me feel God’s love, and bring feelings of peace and joy into my heart.
[7] The purpose of prayer is not necessarily to tell God how I want Him to do things. Rather, it’s to better understand Him and His ways, bringing myself into alignment with His will. As C.S. Lewis is often attributed as saying, prayer “doesn’t change God. It changes me.”
[8] Jesus set the perfect example of prayer. If I try to follow His example through prayer, I will become more like Him and develop a better relationship with Him and Heavenly Father.
[9] Jesus fasted for 40 days and 40 nights before He began His ministry on the earth. As He did this, He communed with God in prayer. Likewise, when I pray and fast, I feel closer to God and better understand the things He wants me to do.
A year ago I had a dream of living in my own space, where I could venture a deeper intimacy with God, live in submission to his will, and enjoy the still and constant companionship of the Holy Spirit.
I write this piece in the half-empty apartment which has been my modest home for a month already. I write to declare that God is faithful.
I am humbled to think back at how God moved the pieces throughout 2021 and took charge of my situation to do exactly what he said he would do. The people he put in my life which have become key features of this season – leaders, helpers, counsel.
For the first time in my life, perhaps because it’s the first time I’ve paid attention, I can feel God loving me through the people in my life. I can hear his voice and feel his hand in the peculiar encounters on my way to work, at the office, while running errands. What a glorious grace.
Thank God for the grace to recognise his presence in my life. Otherwise, I would conclude (in my flesh) that I am simply not doing enough to be sensitive to his move. In my unwitting hubris and attachment to outcomes I would deduce that I needed to pray more, fast more, etc. That somehow God’s move was up to my behaviour.
I give thanks for reminders that humble me, gentle reminders that the course of my life is decidedly out of my control. God is God in spite of my conduct.
I am, however, currently undergoing a ‘spiritual reset’ – an endeavour to fortify spiritual disciplines such as prayer, fasting, and studying. I am reverting to the tone of my spiritual life this time a year ago. I am returning to strict adherence to spiritual disciplines in my routine.
I am yearning for a closeness, a clarity, and a peace which I can only find in Jehovah. I am looking to abide, intentionally. For no other reason than that he has been who he has been. He has been consistently reliable. And I only have to open my eyes each morning to see it.
I am, quite literally, living in the abundance of his faithfulness. Glory be to the Sovereign God.
#1: I am grateful for the splendor of God’s majesty.
#2: I am grateful for weekends spent alone.
#3: I am grateful for the companionship of the holy spirit.
I had a bit of practice picking pretty flowers beforehand so I loved it all the more. This is my new favorite thing to do outdoors. I t has made me more attentive to the oversufficiency of casual beauty around us.
#1: I am grateful to be used by God in the lives of others.
#2: I am grateful for the enterprise of book writing, publishing and selling.
#3: I am grateful for the moral support I enjoyed from a kind co-conspirator who hid the notes with me.
I had written the three notes of encouragement before I left my place earlier. I now wish I’d left a way for the future readers to contact me. Alas, for now, my work is done.
Friendship is important. Individuality and independence is important too. Growing up, my church instilled values of aspiration to marriage. I have come to appreciate the idea of platonic soul mates.
What are your thoughts on ‘it will end in tears’?
‘So what if it ends?‘
And your thoughts on closure?
‘In my experience the idea of closure has not been useful. You cannot force the other person to care.‘
A few weeks ago I had a conversation which has borne this piece. The part of that conversation which made an impression on me was a simple question. What reasons do I have to be in a relationship?
In the first instance, the question presumes the existence (and necessity) of ‘reasons’ to be in a relationship. As such, the question is loaded. Secondly, the word ‘reasons’ requires qualifying. A useful definition would be any causes or motivations. Put differently, what motivates my desire to be in a romantic relationship?
To answer this question, there is as much value in looking outward as there is in looking inward. I prefer to learn from the stories of the people around me. Thus, I contemplate this and other related questions with a dynamic sample of young people throughout the next few weeks.
I’ve never heard the insights of a butterfly. But if I were so fortunate as to have a conversation with a butterfly. In a world where I could, of course, meet with a butterfly for a chat. I imagine it would arrive punctually. Casually settling onto my forefinger as if coming home after an extended voyage. Not so much flying or fluttering as floating.
I’d immediately set out to study the details of the small creature with curious eyes. Would it consider that impolite?
I’d wonder the same things I always do. Do butterflies know how beautiful they are?
They don’t get to see their wings or get to consider their aesthetic value, let alone to perceive them as beautiful. Is that what humility is about?
I’d ask about the cocoon. “What’s it like?” I’d furrow a pair of quizzical eyebrows as I ask.
“I read somewhere that butterflies split open and lose their exoskeleton when they pupate,” I’d venture. “Does that hurt?”
I’ve always wondered what that time in isolation as a pupa must be like. Extraordinary, I imagine. Divine, definitely.
“Did you emerge as a clean slate?” I’d enquire with childlike wonder.
“As in, are you conscious of your previous caterpillar experience? Do you get to keep those memories?”
Butterflies are phenomenal. They get to have four lives – their four distinct stages of metamorphosis.
I’d probably also ask if it has ever been ashamed of its cocoon, or its previous caterpillar form. Are its wings a reminder of a darker, colder time of its existence? A time of unrealized potential that it would rather forget.
I imagine it would briefly flutter its wings, almost reflexively as it pondered the question for a moment. The whole world would seem to hold its breath in anticipation.
“I am a butterfly,” it would supply finally, matter-of-factly.
“When I emerge from the chrysalis, a matured version of my previous larval form, with a set of wings and no flight experience, I am surprising no one.”
Its antennae would be motionless, in the butterfly equivalent of a deadpan expression.
“I haven’t done anything extraordinary. In fact, I haven’t done anything at all. Let alone that which warrants shame.”
“My metamorphosis is not my work. It is simply the way of things. It is desperately unremarkable by the standards of my species. It is the rule.”
“Not only that,” it would add thoughtfully.
“Shame makes no sense because this is necessary. My wings are a mechanism for my protection, designed to intimidate and deter predators with their patterns and bright colours. They’re also my means of mobility, I cannot be ashamed of them. They are what allows me to continue my existence.”
I’d listen attentively, almost greedily. Focusing on the vivid horizon ahead of us and hanging on every word meditatively.
“Kind of like grace,” I’d offer after a while, deeply pensive and saturated in the moment.
It wouldn’t be until I turn for another glance at the splendor of those delicate wings that I would realize my index finger was no longer occupied.
“Of course,” I’d say, with an affectionate smile. “It was a weightless creature, I didn’t feel it lift off my finger. How long has it been gone?” I’d begin to wonder.
Then the air would fall still around me, as if all of creation were calling me to attention.
Lele Muthali 