
1 Corinthians Chapter 13 - When Patience Becomes a Miracle
“Love is patient…” — 1 Corinthians 13:4 When I was young, to me, miracles meant parting of the seas or blind eyes blinking open. Now? I’m convinced the bigger miracle might be waiting calmly while your child tries to wear their own shoes “all by myself,” for the 12th time this week . You sit there, watching them trying to slip the shoe on and tie the laces, determined to “do it right.” You’re already late. The taxi is waiting. And yet, somehow, you don’t explode. You breathe. You smile. And in that moment, you realize: this is a lesson in love. Because love, real love, isn’t proven in dramatic declarations. It’s revealed in the tiny, invisible decision to wait when it would be easier to rush . Paul could’ve started his poetic list of love’s qualities with something grand, like “Love is powerful” or “Love performs miracles.” But he didn’t. He started with this: “Love is patient.” Not glamorous. Not tweetable. Just… patient. Why? Because love that’s not patient isn’t love—it’s preference . It’s “I’ll love you when it’s convenient. When you’re polite. When you are obedient. ” But real love? Real love stands in line at the polyclinic and still blesses the nurse with a smile. Real love listens to the same story told by your grandmother, again and again, and reacts like it’s the first time. Real love holds the hand of a friend who’s healing slower than you expected. I once saw a mother, at the end of a long work day, bringing home her son from the caretaker, stopping at a playground trying to leave. “Come on, son,” she said. “We’ve got to go.” But the toddler had apparently has to try every playground activity at every playground in their 1 km walk home. The mother waited. And waited. No yelling. No threats. Just patient presence. And when they got to the next playground, the toddler went charging to the playground. And she waited again. And I thought: That must be what God does. Right there. In the playground. In the waiting. God’s love is never in a hurry, even when we’re limping through life. He’s not tapping His foot in heaven, arms crossed. No! He’s patient with the broken, the stubborn, the procrastinators (ahem, that’s me). If God is patient with us, shouldn’t we be a little more patient with each other? Patience is not laziness. It’s love choosing not to rush things. It’s what holds a mom together when the baby won’t sleep. It’s what keeps a caregiver gentle after 87 repeated questions. It’s what allows us to say, “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” Patience doesn’t mean we never feel frustrated. It means we choose not to let frustration win. You may never raise the dead or feed five thousand with your “cai fan”. But if today you offer patience when it’s easier to snap, you’re living out a miracle—one slow breath at a time. Next time someone tests your limit - your spouse, your child, the customer who still doesn’t understand how to use their phone to make an order - whisper this under your breath: “Love is patient. And so am I. With God's help. Probably.”
|
3 min read