And He is here
And He has time
To take what's wrong
And make it right.

-Common Hymnal, “He Has Time”

It was a dark and rainy night, that fateful night of the apple cider chicken. Four Novembers ago, Drew and I were headed to Sammamish for a “Friendsgiving” celebration with some close (you guessed it) friends. I do not remember what dish I made, but I do remember that Drew (who at the time was my boyfriend) had ambitiously undertaken the task of making our main meat dish in the form of baked apple cider chicken. He’d found the recipe himself, and I was quite proud of him for stepping up and contributing something a bit more complex than a can of cranberry sauce. When I walked into his apartment to pick him up, the air was laden with the scent of chicken and onions that had slowly simmered in the oven—it smelled heavenly.

I am not blaming Drew per-se when I say that I warned him not to put the still-bubbling liquid-brimming hastily-covered casserole dish on the backseat of my car. “Put it on the floor,” I said, “So it will be more secure.” Drew did not choose this option and insisted with confidence that the chicken would be fine nestled in my back seat. We were already running late, so I chose not to argue; instead, I prayed for mercy and began the long drive from Greenwood to Sammamish. If you are familiar with Greenwood (and most of Seattle), you will know how unreasonably steep and hilly it is. You will know that an ordinary afternoon walk can quickly turn into a mountaineering expedition if you are not careful.

If you know how hills work in general, you will not be surprised when I tell you that the moment we descended a steep hill 30 seconds later, the apple cider chicken dish promptly flew off my back seat and onto the floor behind the driver’s seat, sloshing out a good deal of cidery chicken liquid on the way.

Frantically, I pulled over near the bottom of the hill and we exited the vehicle to survey the damage. When I saw that my back seat now looked like a poultry-based crime scene, I began to chastise loudly in Drew’s direction. Okay, I was yelling. I was mad that my new-to-me-car was now saturated with brownish chicken juices. I was mad because this was preventable. I was mad because we were now even later to Friendsgiving as we attempted to contain “The Situation.” I am not proud of how rude and unkind I was, but there you have it.

After I determined that I was now wasting more energy chastising than driving, I quickly hopped into the driver’s seat and shouted at Drew, “Get in!” I saw what happened next in slow motion. As he hastened from the back of the vehicle to the front, Alas! The journey proved too perilous. Doing his best to please me, Drew ran with all of his might face-first into my open passenger side door, which sent his glasses flying out into the night and landed him on his back on the steep, slippery grass.

I felt awful.

As I stood over him and his dear face blinked up at me, I meekly said “I’m sorry.” Drew is the most precious soul in the world, and he is also very intelligent, so you know things must have been bad if they resulted in Drew’s face-first collision with my open car door. On hands and knees, we patted around on the grass to find Drew’s glasses, which were thankfully intact.

As we drove off once more towards Friendsgiving, the realization “I am not a patient person” sobered me. Somehow, Drew still married me—praise God from whom all blessings flow—yet I am still frequently impatient. I have an inner urgency that tells me to rush! as I worry that there will not be enough time to do everything I want to do under the sun. When I give in to this voice that hurries me, it leads to my being even more exhausted and irritable. Deep, down my spirit craves rest. This is why Drew is good for me—he models a slow and intentional pace best articulated in some lines from the John O’Donohue blessing, “For One Who Is Exhausted”:

Stay clear of those vexed in spirit.
Learn to linger around someone of ease
Who feels they have all the time in the world.

*

In my best moments, the way Drew approaches time makes me want to slow down and worry less. At my worst, it drives me crazy—but always, always, this character trait of Drew points me to the loving character of God. It is the love of God that makes him patient and kind towards us. Though the patience of God is a crucial aspect of God’s character, it is often one I dismiss. But to ignore this is to ignore a crucial aspect of God. When God reveals himself to Moses in the darkness of Mt. Sinai, he names himself in this way:

“The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin.”
(Exodus 34:6)

Psalm 103 also uses the language of patience to articulate the character of God:

The Lord is compassionate and gracious,
slow to anger, abounding in love.
He will not always accuse,
nor will he harbor his anger forever…
(vs. 8 & 9)

I wonder if Paul had these passages in mind when he defined what it means to love in 1 Corinthians 13:

Love is patient, love is kind….It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Too often when things aren’t happening as quickly as I’d like and it seems as though my prayers aren’t being answered, I assume God is being slow or indifferent. But what if God is simply being patient, like love does, for all of the pieces to fall into place according to his greatest glory and our deepest joy? How would that change the way we live?

The apostle Peter urges us to keep God’s patience and gracious timing in mind as we wait for Christ to return to earth:

But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.
(2 Peter 3:8-9)

Later in the same passage, Peter exhorts his readers:

“Bear in mind that our Lord’s patience means salvation…” (vs 15).

If the Lord’s patience is bringing many into His eternal kingdom, who am I to protest his timing?

*

This week I have been running around like a decapitated chicken. I over-committed to too many things and have been trying to do each thing perfectly and well. Needless to say, I’ve been impatient. Living as though I do not have time for God, I have forgone spending time with Him for the sake of checking something off of my list.

But you know what? When I finally did take time to process this with God, He reminded me that even when I don’t have time for him, he has time for me. I expected condemnation, a ‘you should have made more time for me’ kind of message. Instead, God extended his gracious invitation once more to simply be with him as I am and to rest in his perfect timing.

God is patient. God is kind.

This is what motivates us to be patient when we have been in the waiting room of life for a very long time. This is what motivates me to respond graciously the next time apple cider chicken erupts all over my car (Lord, help me). If we are called to reflect the character of God, then we are called to be patient and kind, just like him. But this is not something that we can do in our own strength, which is why continually turning back to him and waiting upon him is a very good idea. In doing this, God’s word promises us we will not be disappointed:

They who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;
They shall mount up with wings like eagles;
They shall run and not be weary;
They shall walk and not faint.
(Isaiah 40:31)

In the times when are impatient with God, may we remember how patient he is with us. May we have the courage to wait upon and trust his timing. May this promise from Isaiah 30:18 penetrate our hearts and settle deep in our bones:

The Lord longs to be gracious to you;
therefore he will rise up to show you compassion.
For the Lord is a God of justice.
Blessed are those who wait for him!’

p.s. the apple cider chicken was delicious.