In our home patience doesn’t run rampant. It is a conscious and practiced effort. A daily dying to ourselves, adorning the fruit of patience, and seeking the Holy Spirit to temper our flare ups. My husband and I are growing three small soldiers, three warriors to add to the army of God -and we view it this way- as if we are preparing them for battle. To demonstrate impatience toward them robs us of demonstrating “the righteousness of God,” to them, which James tells us, “the wrath of man does not produce (1:20).”
Nothing quite upsets my nerves like knowing I have a large order in the bakery to fill. The first icing attempt, the first cookie dough ball, the first cupcake batter measured into one of twelve meticulously arranged cupcake liners, and my hand is nearly always shaking. When I told my mom I was starting a small business, and that I was going to use the farm’s resources to bake professionally for our community, she stared at me for a moment before genuinely asking, “why?”
As much as I love to bake, and as much as I feel called to this particular ministry it disagrees with my personality in a number of ways. The interaction that this particular industry requires is not one that I tend to participate in naturally. I’m an introvert by nature requiring moments of solitude before the Father to recharge my social battery. Interacting at catering’s, making small talk, and functioning effectively in highly socialized settings are not my forte. I also consider one smudged line, one unevenly baked pastry, one crooked icing flower as a failure to the whole endeavor, resulting in a manic tossing the whole project, and starting over. If I can’t deliver perfection why even try?
So, naturally, as I’m dotting the center of icing flowers or writing meticulously atop royally iced sugar cookies and my toddler runs franticly into the kitchen lineman style tackling my shins, causing my writing to streak a colored line from one end of the pan to the other, my flesh desires wrath. It desires justice. It desires repentance from the underserved tackling and unannounced destruction of my project. It demands retribution and affirms I am the victim of an egregious wrong goading me into what is rightfully mine: the shattering of my porcelain temper.
And I have failed in the pursuit of the spirit to lead my flesh in too many like moments. I’ve yelled and I’ve cried. I’ve frantically lost my head, spinning in circles to throw towels on the flooded floor of the guest bathroom where the sink -that one of my children left plugged -was left with the water running. I have failed to demonstrate the holiness and righteousness of God to my children when I have yielded to wrath.
But, grace is given here. In these moments of flesh led failure the Father affirms his righteous holiness to me through the conviction of my anger. I seek my children. I ask for their forgiveness. The conviction of the Holy Spirit leads me to teach them that “the wrath of man does not produce the righteousness of God.” In every instance where my thermometer is brought to new heights I have a choice: pursue my own unrighteous indignation or pursue His righteousness through the fruit of patience.
Were it not for the grace of God there would be no such overcoming. Were it not for the grace given to me on the cross through Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection there would be no such redemption from the sin separating us at birth from the very holy presence of God.
In these moments the spirit leads me to remembering that grace is given here. I can’t deliver perfection. Even as a believer, a born again new creation as Paul defines in 2 Corinthians 5:17 my sin struggle still rears its ugly head every day. Every day is an overcoming. It’s tiring, and at times can seem to be impossible. But, grace was given to me so that I have victory over sin and death. Victory that has already, “overcome the world (John 16:33).” I have a choice in moments where my flesh rages against my spirit: I can appropriate the victory, resisting the devil and causing him to flee (James 4:7) or I can yield to my flesh in these moments, forfeiting the righteous pursuit of Christ’s character, which I should be in constant pursuit of growth toward His likeness (Eph. 4:15).
Ultimately, present salvation from the temptation to sin is mine, but I rob myself of the benefit of growing into the likeness of Christ when I yield to the flesh, rather than appropriating the victory I have in Christ. He’s given me victory over my impatience and futile pursuit of perfection. He’s given me victory over fear, doubt, social anxiety, illness, and even death.
I’m reminded daily, by my own shortcomings, that God does not call the equipped. Rather, he equips the called. In doing so, therefore, he removes any doubt, that there may be no confusion as to who gets the glory. In Him is the grace to even be part of bearing testimony to His name; being given the opportunity to grow more into Christ’s likeness every day is grace. It is unmerited, miraculous, awesome grace.