My Face Gets There First

Lydia is almost ready.

She's sitting at the kitchen table finishing breakfast, and I'm already at the door. We've done this before. The night before, we packed the backpack and got everything ready for school. But somehow, when it's actually time to leave, she remembers the things she needs to take with her.

A book.

Her volleyball clothes.

A snack.

One more thing she suddenly can't possibly leave without.

I'm standing at the door, waiting. I glance at the clock. I look toward the car parked out front.

And then there's the trail.

Something gets left by the door. Then something else. I already know that after I take Lydia to the bus stop, I'll walk back into the house and pick up whatever she has left behind before I start work for the day.

I can feel the thought forming before I ever say it:
This is going to create more work for me.

And apparently, my face has already said it.

Colossians 3 doesn't begin with a command to be more patient. Paul begins by reminding me that I have been raised with Christ.

So the question isn't simply, How do I become a more patient person? It's, What do I do with reactions that belong to a self I no longer am?

That changes the way I think about these little moments. I'm not standing at the door trying to manufacture a better version of myself through sheer willpower. I'm learning to recognize what doesn't belong in the life Christ has given me.

Even recognizing that reaction for what it is means grace is already at work in me. God is helping me see what is happening in my heart and giving me what I need to respond differently.

Grace isn't just about pardon for what I've already done. It is God's active work in me, meeting me before the moment of choice and enabling me to choose a different response.

Paul tells me to get rid of anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language. At first, that list can sound like it's aimed at people with a much bigger anger problem than mine. But the more I think about it, the more I wonder if Paul is also getting at what happens long before the words ever come out.

A thought can become irritation. Irritation can become an attitude. An attitude can show up in my expression or my tone. And eventually, it can become words.

Sometimes my face gets there before my mouth does.

Then Paul says something that seems almost contradictory. He tells me I have taken off my old self. It's done. It's no longer who I am. And yet I keep discovering pieces of that old way of living showing up in my reactions.

Both things can be true.

I have been changed by Christ, and I am still being changed by Christ.

I don't have to believe that my old reactions define me. But I also don't get to ignore them simply because I know they aren't supposed to be there anymore. When they surface, they become an opportunity to notice where I still need God's grace to work in me.

And then Paul reminds me that I am being renewed in the image of my Creator.

That's bigger than simply learning to behave better. God is restoring in me what sin has distorted. That restoration reaches deeper than my record. It reaches me.

And that's where I have to get honest about what my reactions are actually revealing.

So what's really going on when I think, This is going to create more work for me?

Maybe it's impatience.

Maybe it's control.

Maybe it's frustration with inconvenience, or an expectation that everyone should move at my pace.

Maybe it's the assumption that my way is the better way.

Maybe it's resentment that I have to accommodate someone else's pace or choices.

The extra work may actually be real. Lydia really may leave a trail by the door that I will have to pick up later. But the fact that something is inconvenient doesn't automatically give me permission to be irritated with the person who caused the inconvenience.

That makes me wonder whether this is more than a passing temptation. Maybe it's a temper in the old Wesleyan sense, a settled tendency I keep finding myself returning to. Not simply a feeling that flashes up once, but a pattern of responding that has become familiar.

And if that's true, then maybe the point isn't just to catch the moment when I'm annoyed. Maybe it's to notice what that moment keeps revealing about me.

Because the question isn't really, How do I stop making that face?

It's, what is happening in my heart when things don't go according to my plan?

Once I start seeing the pattern, I still have to decide what I'm going to do with it.

There are two easy ways I could respond to all of this.

I could decide that I just need to try harder. Keep my face under control. Watch my tone. Be more patient. Perform the right response through sheer willpower.

Or I could go the other direction and tell myself that because I am forgiven in Christ, the reaction doesn't really matter. I didn't say anything. I didn't hurt anyone. It's just a face.

Neither one gets to the heart of what God is doing in me.

Grace doesn't ask me to manufacture holiness on my own, but it also doesn't leave me exactly where it found me. God is actually changing me, and He invites me to participate in that work.

So when I catch the reaction, I can notice it. I can surrender what is happening in my heart to God. I can choose how I respond. And I can trust Him to keep doing the deeper work in me.

That's different from simply managing my behavior.

I don't want to get better at hiding the reaction. I want Christ to change the temper itself, the settled tendency that keeps pulling me toward the same old response.

Real change is possible, not because I can make myself into a better person, but because God's grace is at work in me and I am invited to cooperate with it.

This week, I want to practice catching the face.

The pause gives me a moment to pay attention to what God may already be showing me. It's a small practice, but it can become a place where I slow down enough to notice His work in me.

So when I catch that familiar look, I want to pause and ask:
What is happening in my heart right now?
Then:
What would it look like to surrender this to Christ?

And maybe the harder question is:
Am I making someone else carry the weight of my frustration?

I don't need to solve everything in that moment. I just want to notice, surrender, choose, and trust God to keep doing the deeper work.

That's the practice this week: catch the face, and pay attention to what it's revealing.

I know there will be another morning when Lydia is sitting at the kitchen table finishing breakfast, and I'm already at the door, ready to go.

She'll get up to put her shoes on, and suddenly she'll remember the book she wants, her volleyball clothes, a snack, or something else that apparently must come with her.

I'll wait.

There will probably be another little trail of things left behind.

And there will probably be a moment when I feel that familiar frustration rise up.

I hope I learn to see that moment differently.

Maybe that little facial expression can remind me to slow down, look a little deeper, and let Christ keep shaping me.

I don't want Christ to simply make my outside look better. I want Him to transform what is happening underneath it.

I want the grace that helps me notice my reaction to keep working in me until patience becomes more than something I try to look like. I want it to become part of who I am.

Prayer
God, thank You for raising us with Christ and continuing to make us new.

Help us notice what our faces, our words, and our reactions reveal before we even realize what is happening in our hearts. When those old patterns show up, give us the grace to surrender them to You and the strength to choose a different response.

Help us recognize the ways You are already drawing us toward You, even before we know to look for them. Keep renewing us into Your image until patience becomes more than something we perform. Make it part of who we are becoming in You.

Amen.