Thursday: Psalm 39-41; Joshua 8.1-29; Titus 1.1-9

From: Scotland Huber

I often consider myself a person of impatience, but I'm worried the reality may be even worse: I'm not sure I even know what it looks like to be patient. Sparing us all the ramblings about our instant gratification culture, I feel too often guided by our cultural expectations of Everything Now (sorry I couldn't resist the album reference).

I've been reading a little about Abraham recently, and have been struct by how inextricably linked patience and faith are—both particularly in Abraham's story and also more generally. My trust does often seem to be in the securities of this life, in privilege or circumstances or assets that enable me to not have to be patient or trust in God. My own personal story has enabled me to often keep trusting God at a certain arms length. Reading David's Psalm 40, I just can't get past those first couple verses:

I waited patiently for the Lord;
he turned to me and heard my cry.
He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
and gave me a firm place to stand.

We have all known various forms of mud and mire—and I know we all long for that firm place to stand. David's faith in God amidst his brokenness is astounding, but it is also not his faith or patience that ultimately causes God to be faithful to him—though it does allow him to more clearly see God's work. I often wonder how much of what God is doing or trying to do I am missing because I'm too busy worrying or making plans in my impatience.

Psalm 40 has been of so much comfort and wisdom and humanity and beauty to me for years. David's honesty and complexity and God's unrelenting beauty and faithfulness continue to speak to me - and I hope to you as well.

And if a musical accompaniment will help—I’ve found Bono's longing here to be on point:

Praying we all learn to wait more patiently on the Lord—trusting that no matter the wait, no matter our faithfulness in waiting, wondrous are His works and merciful is He.

I am a husband, father, health communicator, and photographer living in Dorchester. I'm always up for talking donuts and vinyl records.