By Thursday of the Third Week of Lent, something remarkable has happened.
We are still here.
Which, given the ambitious intentions of Ash Wednesday, is no small accomplishment.
The early energy has settled into something quieter. The dramatic moments — fig trees inspected, temple tables overturned, wells visited at noon — have given way to something less cinematic and more… ongoing.
And this is where patience enters the picture.
Now, patience sounds like a virtue one ought to admire from a distance. It pairs well with stained glass and hymn tunes. It does not, however, pair well with traffic, delayed emails, unanswered prayers, or that persistent sense that one’s spiritual growth is proceeding at approximately the pace of a reluctant garden snail.
Patience is not glamorous.
The Scriptures around this point in Lent often nudge us toward endurance. Perseverance. Steadiness. Which is to say, keep going.
Not sprinting. Not collapsing dramatically in the dust. Just continuing.
This, I suspect, is where real discipleship lives.
We admire dramatic conversions and heroic sacrifices. But most of the Christian life is composed of small, repeated acts of faithfulness. Pray again. Forgive again. Try again. Listen again.
It is tempting to believe that growth must feel exhilarating in order to count. Lent quietly suggests otherwise.
The gardener does not tug at the fig tree every morning to see if fruit has appeared. The well does not shout encouragement to those drawing water. The temple is restored table by table.
And we are formed, day by day, by patience that does not announce itself.
There is something deeply reassuring about this. God does not seem to panic at the pace of our growth. Divine patience appears considerably greater than ours.
Which is fortunate.
If Lent feels less like a spiritual mountaintop and more like steady walking this week, take heart. Walking is how Jerusalem is reached. Slowly. Persistently. With the occasional pause for breath and perhaps mild theological reflection about footwear.
Patience is not passive. It is trust stretched across time.
And by Thursday of the Third Week of Lent, that may be exactly what is being formed in us — not brilliance, not spectacle, but endurance.
It may not look impressive.
It may look like faith that refuses to quit.
And in the economy of the kingdom, that is more than enough.
Companion Prayer
Steady God,
When growth feels slow
and patience feels thin,
remain with us.
Teach us endurance
without anxiety,
faithfulness
without drama,
and trust
without haste.
Strengthen us
for the long road of love,
and keep us walking
one faithful step at a time.
Amen.