Luke 13:6-9

Then he told this parable: “A man had a fig tree growing in his vineyard, and hewent to look for fruit on it but did not find any. 7 So he said to the man who tookcare of the vineyard, ‘For three years now I’ve been coming to look for fruit on thisfig tree and haven’t found any. Cut it down! Why should it use up the soil?’8 “‘Sir,’ the man replied, ‘leave it alone for one more year, and I’ll dig around itand fertilize it. 9 If it bears fruit next year, fine! If not, then cut it down.’”

How patient are you? On a scale of 1 to 10, where do you stand? What made you most impatient this past week?

I've been observing myself to see where I am impatient this week. When do I start to fidget or feel irritated? I'm generally patient, so I thought it fun to take a patience quiz. (Try it here.) I expected a high score, but it wasn’t that kind of test—it identified how I’m impatient.

My scores said I was much more patient with others than with myself. The results noted that I get bored with routine. I'm curious and like new things, but I often get distracted and leave things unfinished. I'm too impatient to follow through when I'm eager for the next thing. (For the record, I only have six books waiting to be finished.) The recommendations said this impatience could stem from the desire to distract me from things that make me uncomfortable or fear failure. I start a new project instead of doing what is most important and often demanding.

This test was not as fun as I thought, but it was on target. The quiz reminded me that we are all impatient in different ways, likely due to something we are uncomfortable with about ourselves. When we are impatient with ourselves, we are not free.

Our parable from Luke 13 instructs us about patience by illustrating a fig tree. When you bite into a fig, you taste 11,000 years of human civilization. The earliest records date fig cultivation to near Jericho in Israel. When a biblical passage mentions a fig tree or a vineyard, it evokes a Middle Eastern cultural symbol of the good life. Flourishing figs and vines means all is well, the nation is prosperous and peaceful, and all is well with the soul.

Figs take years to develop and can outlive humans. Planting a fig tree is not just a hope for tomorrow but a hope for a generation. After three years of waiting, the man who planted the tree is frustrated that no fruit has come his way. Is that reasonable?

According to my Google search, figs produce fruit between two and six years after planting. Numerous factors influence the maturity date. Figs need sun and struggle in rain. Overwatering causes root rot, and bad pruning affects flowering. Fig trees are not radishes that sprout in days and are ready to eat in a few weeks. I don't like to eat radishes, but I plant them because their growth rate to harvest is so satisfying.

The fig tree owner demands productivity, saying, "Don't waste the soil on an unproductive tree. Cut it down and plant a new tree!" But the tree has just entered the possible productivity zone. If the tree is cut down, three whole years are lost, plus it will take three more years to get a new tree going.

The landscaper in the parable understands the dynamics of cultivation and encourages the owner to be patient another year with the fig tree. Dig around the roots and aerate the soil, put some fertilizer around it, and let's see what happens.

Trees, like humans, are complicated living organisms, and we don't all unfold on the exact timetables. Patient fig producers can be rewarded with a crop for 50 years—long enough to pass on to descendants.

Where is God in this parable?

You might quickly associate the owner of the land with God. If so, God has the authority over the earth and life and can judge what to do next. If the fig tree isn't bearing fruit, cut it down. If a person isn't bearing fruit, they will be judged and uprooted.

But what if God is the gardener?

Then God is patient, understands that people take time to grow into who they are, and does everything possible to promote human flourishing. A third possibility is that the parable demonstrates the interplay of justice and mercy. As disciples of Jesus, we are responsible for being fruitful with the lives we have, but God is patient and merciful as we find our way.

While portrayals of God as an angry judge are common, patience is more prevalent. From the first time, humans disregard God in Eden, through every era in Scripture, God holds back on judgment to give people time to try again and mend their ways. Jesus often revealed a God of second chances in how he treated sinners. Every time we sing "Amazing Grace," we proclaim a patient God who continues to work with us as we are.

Grace is Christianity 101. We know this—but the challenge is acknowledging God's patience and acting with patience.

For people who have tried God's patience for generations, we have not shown as much for each other or ourselves. Patience is listed as a fruit of the Spirit, one we all can acknowledge needing improvement. Yet it persists. Let's explore patience more deeply and how we can cultivate it to grow within us.

As we explore patience from different angles, I'm starting with the definition of impatience because we understand it.

Impatience is the emotional state of restlessness, irritation, or frustration that arises when a person experiences delays, obstacles, or unmet expectations. It shows a struggle to tolerate waiting, ambiguity, or effort. We live in a next-day delivery culture where to be slow is almost a moral offense. How long will you stand in line or stay in the phone queue waiting to talk to a human? When you must wait, do you think, "I'm so grateful I have a moment to catch my breath and ponder life"? Or do you keep checking your watch, fidgeting through your phone, and begin to feel angry that your time is being wasted?

How dare they make you wait?

Restaurant workers report a rise in people being verbally abusive. Waiting doesn't just make us impatient—it makes us frustrated and angry.

Given that reaction, it's interesting that the Greek word for patience is macrothymia. Macro means far off, as in the macro picture. Thymia means anger, wrath, or passion. This patience means we don't rush to anger—we are slow to angry reactions.

The Hebrew word is similar to when we read Psalm 103:8, "The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love." The word literally means "long in nostril." Someone who can take a deep breath before acting.

The consumer culture attitude of "I want what I want, and I want it now" has seeped into our relationships, politics, and even thoughts. When Amazon, Facebook, and your smartphone can deliver goods and information quickly and efficiently, we unconsciously expect that of others.

Patience is the ability to endure delay, hardship, suffering, or provocation without frustration or complaint. It is a virtue that allows one to remain calm and steadfast in the face of difficulties, trusting in a greater purpose or outcome. That sounds terrible. Why would we want to do that? Why can't the world come to me instead of me taking life on life's terms?

Chris Hayes just wrote a book titled The Sirens' Call: How Attention Became the World's Most Endangered Resource. He shared this anecdote about holding his newborn son—the wonder of feeling his warm breath and smelling that fresh new life smell. While in wonder, he notices his phone and feels the pull to check his email and see what people say on social media. He stops himself in mid-reach and thinks, "What am I doing? There is nothing more important than holding this baby for the first time! Not Candy Crush, breaking news, or Facebook reels of hilarious cats."

“We can't be with others if we don't slow down and be patient.
If we can't be in the moment, we will always be anxious and out of touch.”

The University of Virginia engaged in research where participants were asked to sit in a room and do nothing for fifteen minutes. People hated it. So, the researchers offered the alternative of giving yourself a shock over sitting quietly. The result? Many participants preferred to sit in the room and shock themselves rather than be alone with their thoughts.

Two-thirds of men preferred electroshocks to sitting quietly—and one guy shocked himself 190 times in 15 minutes to avoid being alone with his thoughts!

Patience is not just about waiting—
It's about trusting.

Trusting that growth is happening beneath the surface.
Trusting that fruit takes time to ripen.
Trusting that God hasn't given up on us—
So we don't need to live like we've given up on ourselves.

The fig tree in Jesus' parable wasn't cut down because it still had potential.
And so do we.

God, like the gardener, sees the long view.
God digs around our roots,
nourishes us with grace,
gives us room to breathe.
and time to become.

What if we did the same?
What if we stopped rushing to judgment?
What if we were slower to anger—kinder to others—and gentler with ourselves?

That's what freedom looks like.
Not being driven by urgency or shame,
But moving through life with trust, with grace, with patience.

Maybe it's time to dig around our roots.
To loosen the soil.
To feed what's hidden.
To trust the process.
And to wait with expectant faith.