In my previous blog, I shared with you my fishing experience in the wilds of Canada. From that post, I hope you discerned my sense of privilege, enjoyment and learning. To have the time and opportunity to travel by floatplane to three remote lakes, plus the access to outboards and fishing tackle—surely this is privilege. To watch bald eagles in flight, to hear the cry of loons, and to behold a lingering sunset, where sky and water overlap—surely this is enjoyment. And to have deep quiet, during which I pondered Jesus’ first words to His disciples: “I will make you fishers of [others]”, or: “I will show you how to fish for others”—surely this is learning, or at least for me.
Perhaps what I learned was nothing new, that is, more than likely I gazed upon a facet of the same diamond, whereby the old appeared new. Whatever the truth of my experience, as I awaited the next fish to nibble and bite, as I felt the sun hot upon my skin, I acknowledged again our Creator’s great patience with me. How many times and in how many ways has He sought to draw me to Himself? How often has He provided me just the right offering, suited for me—exclusively—longing that I might take hold? Of course, the difference between His patiently waiting for me and my waiting for the next fish is radically other: I desired the fish to bite, either for my culinary delight and physical nourishment, or for the excitement of “landing one”; He, on the other hand, desires me to “take and eat,” in order that I might experience His great good in abundance.
Within the New Testament, you might recall that the word “patience” (μακροθυμία in Greek) can also be translated: “long-suffering.” Moreover, the word θυμία, the second word of μακροθυμία, suggests the burning of incense upon an altar. Thus, as an image, μακροθυμία (long-suffering patience) might be pictured as a sacrificial offering, whereby the goodness of God is eventually revealed and experienced.
Even if I ponder the Cross, I know that I cannot fathom the depth and extent of our God’s suffering on my behalf—and yet, I know of His abiding patience, with the hope that His forbearance will not be in vain. Or stated otherwise: I hope that His patience with me will be like incense, producing a pleasing fragrance culminating in light.
Faithfully,
Stan