I’m all for patience–I just wish it wasn’t such a slow process!
In my family growing up, anger was often present but rarely acknowledged. Outwardly we were a very calm family who believed that all anger was ungodly, but that simply meant that our anger was only expressed in a simmering, passive-aggressive manner. So I’ve never thought of myself as an angry person.
My perception of myself has been changing over the past four years since our adopted, special-needs daughter joined our family. There have been far more visible expressions of anger coming out of me in these four years than ever before. God is graciously allowing me to see that I am not the patient, calm person that I thought I was.
So when David Powlison’s book, Good and Angry, was recently published, it immediately caught my attention. Powlison calls the good form of anger “the constructive displeasure of mercy,” and he says there are four key aspects in that: patience, forgiveness, charity, and constructive conflict. His description of patience was very insightful to me:
You bear with difficult people and events, not out of indifference, resignation, or cowardice. You hang in there because you are driven by a different purpose. You are willing to work slowly to solve things. Patience is not passivity. It is how to be purposeful and constructive in the face of great difficulties. You are even willing to live constructively for a long time within seeming insoluble evils. By definition, patience means that what’s wrong doesn’t change right away. (pg 78)
That’s part of my struggle in loving my daughter: I know my impatient anger toward her is wrong, but if I think that the only other option is to have no anger, then I just end up in resignation or indifference, which also is wrong. So to see true patience as the Godly balance between those two extremes is helpful—I can still agree that her mindlessness and disobedience is wrong, but at the same time be willing to work slowly over a long period of time to solve that. To be patient with her means agreeing that something is wrong without demanding instant change. When I stop to think about it, I know that some things are changing in my daughter, but it’s just extremely slow. So I know I need to continue to persist in training her (even though the easier thing is to slide into resignation), and yet in the training accept the reality that change is far, far slower than I would like (rather than pushing for immediate change).
The ironic thing is that my daughter has been far more patient with me in my stumbling attempts to love than I have with her in her stumbling attempts to learn.