Two of the most common challenges in the spiritual life are trust and patience. We say that we trust, but we give in to anxiety. We pray to discern the right course of action, but we want answers now. How do we break those habits?
It has sometimes been said that the opposite of faith is not doubt but fear—or its sibling, anxiety. When we put it that way, it’s a little scary; when I acknowledge my anxiety, am I admitting that I don’t trust God?
Not necessarily. Our minds can tell us what we have always believed, that our faith is strong, and we trust in God. Our gut often tells a different story. When we lose someone we love, receive an unwelcome diagnosis, or change jobs (whether or not by choice), the anxiety is entirely involuntary. Our stomachs clench, and our mouths go dry even as we affirm our trust in prayer. There is a disconnect between body and soul. This is neither hypocrisy nor a simple “mind over matter” conundrum. I prefer to think of it as an invitation to spiritual freedom.
We are spiritually free when we are able to open our hearts to God in any circumstance. Mother Teresa spoke of doing whatever God asked of her “with a big smile.” My advice to a person overcome with anxiety is to pray for the grace to understand how this fits in with the person you are called to be. The anxiety isn’t going to go away because you tell yourself it’s irrational or, in most cases, because you ask God to take it away. God has made you the person you are, with all your gifts and faults, hopes and fears, and God knows your limits. Accept the call to live within them. What God said to St. Paul applies to each of us: “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)
The timing of God’s response to our prayer is a different kind of challenge. I often hear from people in spiritual direction, who are discerning important decisions, that they are struggling with impatience, because they hear nothing in prayer. I never tell anyone to “be patient.” Rather, my advice is, “Pray for the grace to be patient.” It’s all gift. Giving in to impatience is a form of spiritual unfreedom. Sometimes what God calls us to do is wait.
In the preconciliar Church, when Mass was in Latin, the Gospel reading began with the words In illo tempore, which means, “at that time.” The reference was not to a specific day or hour in the first century, but to another dimension. When we pray with Scripture by placing ourselves in the situation and imagining the sights, sounds, and feelings of the participants, we are crossing over into illo tempore. How does our impatience look now?
My own vivid experience of God’s timing happened when I discerned a call to spiritual direction after retirement. I was drawn to minister to older adults, my own generation. I would have had no idea how to do that at an earlier age.
God’s timing is not our timing.
