Say what? Don't pray for patience? -- Colossians 1:9-14 -- Sunday, June 6, 2021
On the need for patience
In the middle of the third century, Cyprian, the bishop of Carthage in North Africa, had a plateful of challenges. The most significant of these concerned persecution of Christians by the Roman emperor Decius (249-251). Decius was highly opposed to Christianity, but instead of martyring people for their faith, he followed a different strategy: Decius sought to discredit the church by creating apostates. People suspected of being Christian would be brought before imperial authorities and asked to offer incense to an image of the emperor and declare that the Roman emperor is a God. It was an act of worship that some Christians would do (possibly with their “fingers crossed”), but others would not. Those who remained faithful to Jesus were honored as “Confessors.” But what was to be done with those who offered the sacrifice and then wanted to return to good standing in the church after Decius’ death? Could the church reintegrate lapsed Christians into the church? It was a real problem.
Added to this was that there was no one—inside the church or outside it—who had not been seared by an epidemic that had terrified all of North Africa, killing innumerable people.
When Bishop Cyprian looked out at his congregations and considered their needs, he saw some who were disheartened and losing hope; others, having received violent treatment by their non-Christian neighbors, wanted revenge against people who had tormented them. The whole world seemed out of control. How was the church to function in such difficult times when the very foundations of the world seemed to be shaking around them?
One of Cyprian’s answers was to write a letter to the churches in Carthage, reminding the believers to be faithful, and especially to be patient. He wrote,
Beloved brethren, we are philosophers not in words but in deeds; we exhibit our wisdom not by our dress, but by truth; we know virtues by their practice rather than through boasting of them; we do not speak great things but we live them…as servants and worshipers of God, let us show by spiritual homage the patience that we learn from the heavenly teachings (Patient Ferment, 13-14).
I find Cyprian’s words to be helpful to us, because there is a bit of similarity to our own times. The circumstances are certainly not equal in content or in magnitude, yet perhaps we can hear similarities to our current situation. It is interesting that of all the things to write about—of all the qualities to magnify—Bishop Cyprian chose patience. It’s not a terrible choice—obviously—because patience is one of the fruits of the Spirit that Paul writes about in Galatians 5:
love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Galatians 5:22-23).
are to be found in abundant supply in our lives. But given then times, I wonder how many of us would choose to emphasize patience?
As we continue with a sermon series on several common “myths, misinterpretations, and misapplications” about what we think the Bible says, we come today to one I hear often: “Don’t pray for patience; God might give you a difficult experience to teach you.” What is it about patience that makes us assume that something God intends for good is actually bad?
If we look up the word “patience” in the Bible, we’ll find approximately 30 occurrences of the word that fall into two broad categories: God’s patience so that persons might be saved, and patience as a response to difficulty or suffering. Today we will focus on this second category, using Colossians 1:9-14 as our study.
Paul’s admiration of the Colossian’s faith
I imagine that somewhere along the way you have heard that Paul followed the standard letter writing format of his day when he wrote to churches and individuals. Like all letters, his begin with an identification of the authors, then move to some words of thanksgiving. This is where we find Colossians 1:9-14. We want to take special notice of the beginning and the ending of this section.
We learn at the beginning of the passage that Paul’s ministry partner Epaphras has brought a good report about how these Christians have been faithfully following Jesus. Epaphras’ good report motivates Paul to pray even more on their behalf:
for we have heard of your faith in Christ Jesus and of the love that you have for all the saints...for this reason…we have not ceased praying for you… (Colossians 1:4,9).
Did you catch that? Paul has heard that this congregation is moving in the right direction spiritually, and that encouraging word leads him to pray for them even more! It is essentially the opposite situation from what we saw last Sunday with the rich young man, who heard what he needed to do to grow in the faith, but instead chose comfort over spiritual maturity. The Colossians chose spiritual maturity, and their continued growth in the Gospel was motivation for Paul to pray for even more growth.
The end of this passage tells us how they are able to do this: they understand what their relationship with Jesus has done for them, how they have been “rescued” (v. 13) from one way of living and have been “transferred” (v. 13) to another way of living. This is the benefit of having “the forgiveness of sins” (v. 14)—the Colossians now belong to Jesus and they are really acting like it.
You can always tell when Paul is excited because he starts heaping up words. Paul’s list of affirmations encourages them to an active faith that is visible to others, similar to Cyprian’s encouragement of the Christians of North Africa:
Lead lives worthy of the Lord—live in a way that would make Jesus proud. This is something we Brethren understand; it’s one of the reasons we’re especially fond of Jesus’ teaching on the sheep and the goats in Matthew 25. What kind of life does Jesus say is faithful? One that actively responds to others: "for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” But there is another side to this teaching—Jesus has some things to say to those who don’t live their faith this way; they risk hearing the words, “Just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.”
Bearing fruit is another popular image for spiritual growth, as it is an indication of a healthy organism—they live to reproduce.
Growing in the knowledge of God speaks to the acquisition of spiritual wisdom; one illustration of this might be Jesus’ instructions on what to do when someone sins against us; if need be, we tell it to the church, believing that we have the necessary spirituality within the congregation to respond to difficult circumstances.
But it is the last characteristic,
made strong with the strength that comes from his glorious power (v. 11)
that is our focus today, because this strengthening leads to the development of patience in our lives. That patience will become evident in two ways:
great endurance focuses on remaining faithful in challenging circumstances, not unlike what we’ve faced in the pandemic.
patience focuses on remaining faithful with challenging people. I recently came across a quote from theologian Dallas Willard that said, “how can you expect to love your enemies when you can’t even love people who annoy you?” The cultivation of patience enables us to reflect Christlikeness even in difficult circumstances.
One of the reasons we struggle with patience is that we perceive it as the refuge of the powerless. It is a something to be endured when we can’t get what we want. But we live in a time and place where we can almost always get what we want when we want it. Our culture highly values consumer choice and customized goods and services. Remember how quickly we panicked last year when the pandemic started, and we all rushed out to buy toilet paper? It turns out that some of the short supply had to do with how toilet paper is manufactured and distributed; a certain amount is designated for commercial places like restaurants and businesses, but we weren’t using as much of that toilet paper because we were staying home. The increased use of toilet paper at home—combined with both a supply chain that wasn’t set up to meet the new demand and our impatience and fear—meant you would go to Kroger and see empty shelves.
The same thing happened a few weeks ago when there was a gas shortage. There was a problem; in response to that so many people ran out to get gas that it temporarily exceeded the supply.
We have become so accustomed to having what we want when we want it that we’ve lost the ability to be patient. Patience—we think—is for those people whose circumstances leave them without agency, the ability to act on their own. Persons in this position become objects that others act upon rather than subjectswho have a measure of control over their fate. When seen this way, patience is more like resignation, something that is an inevitability, not a virtue.
But what Paul commends to the Corinthians—and what Bishop Cyprian commended to the Christians in Carthage 200 years later, is that for Christians, patience is a choice that recognizes I do have agency—I do have the ability to act in situations I encounter. Choosing to honor Jesus and love others is a choice that is always available to us. I am a subject who can make choices about my circumstances and the people around me.
One way we can think about this is in our choices to wear masks in outdoor worship. If it had been up to me, we would have relaxed our policy on wearing masks outdoors sooner than we did. And when you listened beyond our congregation to some of the culture war rhetoric against masks, you could find persons who refused to wear masks as if it was some kind of “group-think” or “behavior control.” But when faced with a highly contagious airborne virus, and a congregation and leadership who chose to err on the side of caution, wearing a mask was a choice that I could make—and many of you also made—as a sign of our patience and love. It was something we were glad to choose to do. (I also recognize that some people had some medical issues with wearing masks; this is a separate issue.)
Patience is ultimately a choice of hope that makes sense when we realize that because of our baptism, we now live in the kingdom of God’s beloved Son. Christians have this agency—the ability to make choices and act—because we believe God is ultimately the Lord of life and is reconciling all things in Christ. We choose to shape our lives by that value, not by any other. When we choose to forgive, to not seek revenge, to bless and not curse, we are choosing patience that in the kingdom of God’s beloved Son things are working out, even if we can’t see how. Choosing patience reveals that we have adopted a new, heavenly vision of the world—we see with different eyes. This may not be the most effective choice in the short term, or even in the medium term. But patience is the choice to align ourselves with the kingdom of God, with the future to which God is leading history.
So go ahead, pray for patience…it’s actually in the Bible!
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55
1. tenderness
2. anticipation
3. optimism
4. intimacy
5. apprehension
6. wonder
7. awe
8. adoration
9. affection
10. delight
11. passion
12. love
13. certitude
14. reminiscence
15. adequacy
16. peace
17. belonging
18. turmoil
19. grief
20. restraint
21. loss
22. discomfort
23. uncanniness
24. ennui
25. defeat
26. puzzlement
27. fatigue
28. anguish
29. yearning
30. despair
31. indifference
32. apathy
33. relief
34. weariness
35. foreboding
36. emptiness
37. inconsequentiality
38. dread
39. pain
40. panic
41. fear
42. terror
43. horror
44. agony
45. vigilance
46. uncertainty
47. torment
48. hope
49. restlessness
50. calm
51. clarity
52. pride
53. power
54. worthiness
55. strength
1
tenderness
/ˈtɛndənəs/
noun
Feelings of deep affection.
Sensitivity to pain; soreness.
We come together, we leave. Between the opening and the closing door, we exist. What is lost in an impossible eternity stays in the infinite unknown. Yet when the lock clicks, there is a new real—in kisses that end, touches never to be repeated and truths incomprehensible in the realm of possibility and fiction.
2
anticipation
/antɪsɪˈpeɪʃ(ə)n/
noun
The feeling of expectation or prediction.
Music. The introduction in a composition of part of a chord which is about to follow in full.
To know someone, her past, present, future, fears and hopes: this is the terror of the blank page. You can’t write that much again, you say—know, feel and be that much again.
But her words will form yours and all else will follow. This is the start. And therein lies the fear and hope.
3
optimism
/ˈɒptɪmɪz(ə)m/
noun
Hopefulness and confidence about the future or the success of something.
Philosophy. The doctrine that this world is the best of all possible worlds.
Philosophy. The belief that good must ultimately prevail over evil in the universe.
The whisper of your voice, your touch, your warmth, and you, heard again after the sound. Again, then again, unexpected. And in its echo, I hear in me a whisper too.
Soft is the sound, like the strings starting a symphony.
4
intimacy
/ˈɪntɪməsi/
noun
Close familiarity or friendship.
Euphemistic. Sexual intercourse.
Closeness of observation or knowledge of a subject.
The voices in your head only ever speak to you, encasing vistas in your mind alone.
But we translate the voices and describe the vistas with every last word we know; we listen and imagine the very best we can. That is our bravest endeavour and greatest privilege, for as we sit alone, we touch.
5
apprehension
/aprɪˈhɛnʃ(ə)n/
noun
Anxiety or fear that something bad or unpleasant will happen.
Understanding; grasp.
Give her the blade.
It might become the axe that splinters your chest, the dagger twisted in your back. Or it might be the machete through the caging forests, the sickle of your future harvests, the sword that’ll finally slay the fiery dragons.
Give her your blade, for then she might unsheath hers for you.
6
wonder
/ˈwʌndə/
noun
A feeling of amazement and admiration, caused by something beautiful, remarkable, or unfamiliar.
A person or thing regarded as very good or remarkable.
It’s strange to feel each moment burst with so much but tally the little time there’s been.
It’s strange that worlds can meet so soon when demons are driven into introductions and a foot’s put in the door of the heart.
It’s strange how quickly shared secrets can bring a boundless future into clear view.
7
awe
/ɔː/
noun
A feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder.
Each day shared, each smile and tear and touch. Each is a flare fired into the void above. The first makes the first star. The rest follow. Unnoticed, a universe roars into being—giants and dwarves, comets and supernovae ablaze. Constellations connect them all, narrating your own cosmological tale of how something came from nothing.
8
adoration
/adəˈreɪʃ(ə)n/
noun
Deep love and respect.
Worship; veneration.
Look at her as she’s happy, her eyes smiling before her lips catch up. Look at her as she’s sad, her eyes empty of all but fear or fatigue. Look at her and see exactly how precious a person can be. Look more closely and see she sees the same when she looks at you.
9
affection
/əˈfɛkʃ(ə)n/
noun
A gentle feeling of fondness or liking.
Archaic. A condition or disease.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘What’s up?’
‘What do you want?’
These sounds get lost in the air between. I make them anyway, playing make-belief with meaning, hoping for some leap or leak.
In this difficulty lies a greater simplicity: I’ll never know all her world nor she mine and, so, our world is essence, distilled and pure.
10
delight
/dɪˈlʌɪt/
noun
Great pleasure.
A cause or source of great pleasure.
But do you know the corporeal soul?
It is in the smiles sparked by true joy, the eyes with innumerable tales to tell, the body that is home to the person. The beauty of the abstract is reflected in that of the material—neither masked by nor transcending.
Few have the chance to see it.
11
passion
/ˈpaʃ(ə)n/
noun
Strong and barely controllable emotion.
Intense sexual love.
(the Passion) The suffering and death of Jesus.
This is the energy that keeps the stars apart. We try to contain it—kindling kisses, cooling cigarettes, transforming it into songs and words on napkins. But from our bodies so finite it leaks out and up. Look hard into the telescope and you might just see it between the stars—fragile, eternal and infinite.
12
love
/lʌv/
noun
An intense feeling of deep affection.
A formula for ending an affectionate letter.
(in tennis, squash, and some other sports) a score of zero; nil.
We send starships, ramming galaxies to dust as separate worlds collide. We shove ourselves back together, one writhing body in defiance of raging gods. We make love to explosions in the sky, throbbing to the accompanying orchestra. We are word, myth and song. We say we’re specks, but in some moments we’re an everyday epic.
13
certitude
/ˈsəːtɪtjuːd/
noun
Absolute certainty or conviction that something is the case.
Something that someone firmly believes is true.
I don’t believe in past and future lives. I speak of neither ancient fate nor eternal destiny.
But I touch with the only body I own; my every thought’s the noblest human endeavour. If my stories stretch to infancy, that’s all of me. If I pledge you my life, I give you all I have.
14
reminiscence
/rɛmɪˈnɪs(ə)ns/
noun
The enjoyable recollection of past events.
A characteristic of one thing that is suggestive of another.
Paths cross, worlds blur,
glances roam, questions linger,
stories begin, pasts appear,
impressions unfold, interest stirs,
night falls, time meanders,
moments pass, resolve wavers,
distance holds, desire hovers,
courage sparks, walls shatter,
lips caress, fingers wander,
eyes meet, bodies shudder,
hope arises, minds wonder,
possibilities beckon, a future nears:
it all begins in the beginning.
15
adequacy
/ˈadɪkwəsi/
noun
The state of being satisfactory or acceptable in quality or quantity
Once in a blue moon, there comes a rare sort of person who makes you feel bigger than you’ve ever felt, that life could be bigger than it’s ever been, yet you’d give it all up for a single moment in which they would look at themselves and be able to see their own size.
16
peace
/piːs/
noun
Mental or emotional calm.
Freedom from disturbance; tranquillity.
A state or period in which there is no war or a war has ended.
I met a girl who showed me the centre of the universe—a place of almost complete stillness, where all noise quietened to a hum. She did it again, and then again, each time with just the memory of her face. Someday, perhaps, the path there’ll be so well-trodden we might even call it home.
17
belonging
/bɪˈlɒŋɪŋ/
noun
An affinity for a place or situation.
From the sea she came and to the sea she will return. Meanwhile, the oceans call her by name and the rain whispers secrets. Beneath the glistening ripples, she dances with mermaids only she can see, breathing more deeply than she ever had in air, sinking into a world at once strange and intimately familiar.
18
turmoil
/ˈtəːmɔɪl/
noun
A state of great disturbance, confusion, or uncertainty.
They say love is hard work, but fighting’s easy, really.
Can you watch grenades go without diving on them though? Can you drop the lost limbs knowing they’re not the last to go? Can you reconcile the fragility and strength of what you defend, or your powerlessness and significance?
Now, these are the true battles.
19
grief
/ɡriːf/
noun
Intense sorrow, especially caused by someone's death.
Informal. Trouble or annoyance.
Some people are good at poker. They fold when they should, work for their wins. Each time they stand they leave nothing of themselves behind.
Some are no good at all. Each night they’re dragged off the table screaming from the crushing debt of all they’d bet but never once had been able to lose.
20
restraint
/rɪˈstreɪnt/
noun
Lack of emotion; self-control.
Understatement, especially of artistic expression.
A device which limits or prevents freedom of movement.
My words are measured, my voice steadied, my hands chained to myself.
But my mind—oh, my mind—runs free, with every bit of you my lips would ravage, with every word I would scream until you heard loud and clear everything I felt for you with every last bit of my stifled, beating heart.
21
loss
/lɒs/
noun
The feeling of grief after losing someone or something of value.
A person or thing that is badly missed when lost.
An amount of money lost by a business or organisation.
There is an ether of lost memories hanging thick around our world. In it are the blurred faces, the forgotten words, the life-changing events we can’t put in order. Each one we’d thought we would never forget; each one detaches and floats to join the rest. The ether binds us in and keeps us whole.
22
discomfort
/dɪsˈkʌmfət/
noun
Slight pain.
Worry or embarrassment.
My lipstick smiles at the lens, trying to reflect some of the joy in the smiles shone on me. I graduated when the cab pulled off and I fell apart; I’d got my distinctions in bed, my honours in words said true. But now, the mortarboard sits squarely on. And as they smile, I smile.
23
uncanniness
/ʌnˈkani/
noun
A feeling of strangeness or mystery, especially in an unsettling way.
(uncanny valley) the phenomenon whereby a computer-generated figure or humanoid robot bearing a near-identical resemblance to a human being arouses a sense of unease or revulsion in the viewer.
I fear the uncanniness of memory.
Digital records resurrect a simulacrum of the past, at once real and not. People I’d been, lives I’d had—in abstract they’re mine. But there isn’t enough me to own the myriad detail at once, to expand my identity, extend my history to such bounds.
Herein lies the valley.
24
ennui
/ɒnˈwiː/
noun
A feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement.
I trod the path without an end, with a beginning I couldn’t remember. Stretches of sand swept towards the horizon—an unbroken line, a full circle. If I lay down I would forget which way was up, but I hadn’t bothered to try. Grain on grain, one by one, the world was made as such.
25
defeat
/dɪˈfiːt/
noun
A state of being overcome by adversity; demoralised.
Things fall apart, the centre holds slant. Between the glue and the trashcan lies the uncanny shipwreck in a bottle. A strange death fills the void with a million little pieces, expunging grief as they soak in it, full. The last cigarette is stubbed. Perhaps the tea leaves can only be read in the ashes.
26
puzzlement
/ˈpʌz(ə)lm(ə)nt/
noun
A feeling of confusion through lack of understanding.
A wonderful illusion: see the displacement in oscillating distance, and believe the hope in steady alternation. The part misdirects from the whole. This is magic, ancient and pure. The secret—hush—lies in the infinite infinitesimals in that empty hat. Suspend your disbelief.
Odd trick though, isn’t it, when the con and mark are one?
27
fatigue
/fəˈtiːɡ/
noun
Extreme tiredness resulting from mental or physical exertion or illness.
A lessening in one's response to or enthusiasm for something, caused by overexposure.
(Fatigues) Menial non-military tasks performed by a soldier, sometimes as a punishment.
We can’t go on; we will go on. Tears dry at the recollection of a smile. A pin in the calendar fuels the intervening hours. Pushed by memory, pulled by hope, we are immortal. For the speck of hope looms into view and transforms into a new memory, leaving yet another fresh horizon of possibility.
28
anguish
/ˈaŋɡwɪʃ/
noun
Severe mental or physical pain or suffering.
Dreams get us through the days; dreams make them unbearable. From the radiance of hope, we must readjust our eyes to a darkness we once could navigate. Our heads are swollen with promise; now nothing fits. Our bodies have felt the possible; now nothing is enough. Dreams—they keep you afloat to burn you alive.
29
yearning
/ˈjəːnɪŋ/
noun
A feeling of intense longing for something.
Take me there where the sun shines hard and the snow falls soft, where mountains far too far to see fit on the map in hand, where each night falls completely asleep and each day wakes fully alive, where everything is just as it should be.
Take me there where I never have to leave.
30
despair
/dɪˈspɛː/
noun
The complete loss or absence of hope.
There’s another life I see, in which my mind is mine and I look myself in the eye, in which cigarettes and coffee taste of more than death, in which pain passes and I laugh more loudly than I scream, in which I am still and free.
Sometimes it seems it’s exactly that: another life.
31
indifference
/ɪnˈdɪf(ə)r(ə)ns/
noun
Lack of interest, concern, or sympathy.
Unimportance.
The art of losing is hard to master.
The art of replacing, though—
Going, walking. Being, sitting. Meals, food—drop the wordplay. An open heart, open eyes. What’s happiness but a smile? Love, faith, hope, life—how big are your words? How full is the glass?
The art of replacing—nothing to it.
32
apathy
/ˈapəθi/
noun
Lack of interest, enthusiasm, or concern.
Cheers to the infinite glass when everything else ends.
Cheers to the headaches and the relativity of pain.
Cheers to the words set free and the ones shut in.
Cheers to the darkness when every second’s one too many.
And cheers to allowing me a hand in the undoing of this life crumbling around me.
33
relief
/rɪˈliːf/
noun
A feeling of reassurance and relaxation following release from anxiety or distress.
Assistance given to those in special need or difficulty.
We spend hours and hours in days and days keeping in line, keeping things in check, keeping calm and carrying on.
And on and on until perhaps it’s no surprise we give it all up to the white flag of surrender—a pure and peaceful whiteness that expects, at last, nothing from us but defeat.
34
weariness
/ˈwɪərɪnɪs/
noun
Extreme tiredness; fatigue.
Reluctance to see or experience any more of something.
I walk along with my eyes half-shut, for the sun is too bright and the days too long. There is life with my lids at half-mast. Time softens, leaving just enough—not too much. I watch the vastness blur into a singular path, laughing at how I walked into this with my eyes wide open.
35
foreboding
/fɔːˈbəʊdɪŋ/
noun
A feeling that something bad will happen; fearful apprehension.
There is a fire in her. The more it burns, the darker it gets. For this flame takes and never gives, feeding its shadows with the surrounding glimmers. She fears its hunger; it grows nonetheless. Eyes open and blind, she watches every spark as the fire burns on in this new night, strong and black.
36
emptiness
/ˈɛm(p)tɪnəs/
noun
The feeling of having no value or purpose; futility.
The state of containing nothing.
There is nothing here tonight—nothing around me, nothing in me. To fill the space, the darkness takes shape, at once overwhelming and inviting. With it the silence sounds, an incessant piercing scream in one ear, a softly seductive whisper in the other.
They beckon me towards something.
Something is better than nothing, they say.
37
inconsequentiality
/ˌɪnkɒnsɪkwɛnʃɪˈalɪti/
noun
the feeling of being unimportant or insignificant.
Sometimes the bears do not wake up when the seasons warm; sometimes the salmon float bloated the wrong way downstream. We fight, we endure, we try, we persist—but for some in vain amidst the crimson teeth and claws of nature. One could lose one’s all, but life lives on immortal, the dead few insignificant.
38
dread
/drɛd/
noun
Great fear or apprehension.
Predators omnipresent, prey immortal, that same knife, that old kiss—dreams dance in the shadow of sense. Light flashes; worlds crack apart. The fear, the relief, the desire, the loss—they stand still in the middle, laughing at the borders you desperately draw between reality and fiction.
The clock ticks until your eyes shut again.
39
pain
/peɪn/
noun
Mental suffering or distress.
Highly unpleasant physical sensation caused by illness or injury.
(pains) Great care or trouble.
There often comes a day that is just an endless night, when the dry air chokes you and the emptiness inside races. You can’t quite remember who you are, much less who you want to be—the present is all there is. And so you wait, in the terrible now, until the endless night ends.
40
panic
/ˈpanɪk/
noun
Sudden uncontrollable fear or anxiety, often causing wildly unthinking behaviour.
Informal. A frenzied hurry to do something.
You put it in; you take it out. It’s silly, you concur, but the true absurdity is that you’re scrambling to fill a void that’ll never take shape while gasping to erase a mess that cannot leave, wanting it all in but all out, wanting to be in it yet always, always, always wanting out.
41
fear
/fɪə/
noun
An unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm.
Archaic. A mixed feeling of dread and reverence.
Your greatest fear isn’t spiders, clowns or heights, but to lose control of your mind—if its thoughts are not just your own, if it speaks both to and as yourself. Divided, what do you defend?
This, more than anything, will feast on your insides, screeching with laughter as you plummet all the way down.
42
terror
/ˈtɛrə/
noun
Extreme fear.
The use of extreme fear to intimidate people; terrorism.
The nights are too long for a single mind. The lights are too bright, but the dark is too dark when you shut your eyes. There is nowhere to go but here, nothing to do but be. When all else sleeps, it is just you alone—with, in and against the entirety of your self.
43
horror
/ˈhɒrə/
noun
An intense feeling of fear, shock, or disgust.
A literary or film genre concerned with arousing feelings of horror.
We light candles to breach the night; it rouses instead, refreshed. We sing and dance because we’re told it’s what scares off the beast; it purrs along with every note. We hide; it finds. We run; it waits for our return.
We look it in the eye, and all it does is smile right back.
44
agony
/ˈaɡəni/
noun
Extreme physical or mental suffering.
The final stages of a difficult or painful death.
It’s still a surprise when it appears, although you’ve never forgotten it’s never gone. Its eyes gleam in the darkest nights. Its scent makes up the air. Its claws draw stale blood. It pins you down. It lets you up. Battles are lost and battles are won but the war is the circle of life.
45
vigilance
/ˈvɪdʒɪl(ə)ns/
noun
The state of keeping careful watch for possible danger or difficulties.
You know it’s following you—no need to look. You can see the darkening shadows, hear each solid step. At times limping, at times charging, but never is it left behind. When it does catch up, stop and fight. Give it all you’ve got, for in this game, in its world, they play for keeps.
46
uncertainty
/ʌnˈsəːt(ə)nti/
noun
The feeling of not being completely sure of something.
I learn that things get better. I learn that dreams come true. I do what I am taught, I look down the rabbit hole, across the valley and through the sands of time, and I put one foot in front of another as I remember to remember to believe.
But what if they are wrong?
47
torment
/ˈtɔːmɛnt/
noun
Severe physical or mental suffering.
All around you are voices on voices, words after words, noise in noise. Air is sound. Each breath chokes, but each breath is followed by another. This is the unending sound of life, a scream that ends only at the end of time itself.
All we need, at times, is simply a moment of silence.
48
hope
/həʊp/
noun
A feeling of expectation and desire for a particular thing to happen.
Grounds for believing that something good may happen.
A person or thing that may help or save someone.
They teach us about the immutable, indivisible soul. We learn to shave ours down to size, or lose chunks of them on impact. But we gather every last fragment, for one day there will be enough space for souls like those in the legends, and we will reconstruct the ruins with our pocketfuls of sawdust.
49
restlessness
/ˈrɛstləsnəs/
noun
The inability to rest or relax as a result of anxiety or boredom.
I am the quivering singularity before the bang. I am the very last point before the tipping. I am ready, ready for everything. I get closer, closer, and closer still.
I never reach it.
And so here I am—straining, bursting, trembling on the edge of all I can see, but absolutely, absolutely cannot touch.
50
calm
/kɑːm/
noun
The absence of strong emotions.
The absence of violent activity in a place.
The absence of wind.
Around and around I spin, a toppling ellipse of neon sounds and blaring lights. It’s too loud, far too loud. Faster and faster I spin, brighter and louder, higher and bigger, on and on until—finally—I take in a breath. The air comes, dragging, slowing, stopping.
And then, at last, I let it out.
51
clarity
/ˈklarɪti/
noun
The quality of being coherent and intelligible.
The quality of transparency or purity.
The quality of being easy to see or hear; sharpness of image or sound.
In some moments, everything dawns into clarity.
The leaves startlingly green, greener than the grey I had seen as green. The song playing again, but sound has become music, thumping and soaring. Each taste dancing on my tongue, with the revelation that food has more than form.
In these moments, I feel—and am—alive.
52
pride
/prʌɪd/
noun
A feeling or deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from achievement, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired.
Literary. The best state of something; the prime.
Look at any Roman ruin. Your eyes will see past the crumbling pillars, for you’ll see Rome, glorious and whole.
Where is the shame, then, in the ruined?
Everything that has broken, spoiled and vanished once had been. And as long as you see them—truly see them—they are and always proudly will be.
53
power
/ˈpaʊə/
noun
Great strength.
The ability or capacity to do something or act in a particular way.
She bristles her mane. She bares her teeth. She is lion, she says. But she doesn’t see her tracks indelible, her eyes gleaming square against the dark, her spine straight amidst others crouching, her bloody wounds more triumphant than spotless pelts. Yet, this is the true roar of her spirit—brave, strong and forever pure.
54
worthiness
/əˈstaʊndmənt/
noun
The quality of being good enough.
The quality of deserving attention or respect.
How many memories do I have? The ones remembered, the ones forgotten?
The things I have done, places I have been, people I have known—they are assembled from every thought I have carried, every image I have held, every sensation I have felt.
In infinitesimal detail, they create the stunning singularity of the “I”.
55
strength
/strɛŋkθ/
noun
The capacity to withstand great force or pressure.
A good or beneficial quality or attribute of a person or thing.
The number of people comprising a group, typically a team or army.
No, I will not bend, or yield, or disappear.
For while I am but a speck in the universe, my world revolves around me, and from there, it begins. When all else is broken or lost, what is left is inviolable: what I choose, what I believe, what I think—and therefore, who I am.
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