Recently I was following a prayer prompt from my spiritual director, and while I was praying a very pesky word popped up: gentleness. God wanted to talk to me about gentleness. And what’s worse, God didn’t mean God’s own loving, patient, merciful gentleness towards me. Oh no, God meant my gentleness. Ugh. Yes, it is a fruit of the Spirit. Yes, we are called to be gentle, and Jesus describes himself that way. But of all the things I wanted to talk to God about, this was not on my list. Couldn’t we pick something else? Maybe kindness or love or something? Maybe even patience would be easier.
So I did what any pastor might do when God wants to talk to them about something they don’t want to hear. I did a word study. I read articles and commentaries. I pored over various texts that use the word gentleness, trying to understand what on earth the Bible actually means by the word. I looked especially at moments when Jesus described himself as gentle. I squirmed, I pouted, I tried to wiggle out of it. And then I came across this definition:
“The paradox of a Christian’s επιεικεια is one of a “spacious generosity” displayed in humble— even desperate— circumstance. It is the paradox of Christ. It is the life of Christ lived large within us”
(‘Reflections on the ‘gentleness’ Paul calls for in Philippians 4:5’, Paul Wendland, Wisconsin Lutheran Quarterly, Winter 2003)
Suddenly, it all started to resonate. Gentleness is actually a part of how I operate. I do not gravitate naturally to the word gentleness. It feels like such a weak and paltry word. A word that means maybe you’re a pushover. A word that is the opposite of strong-willed, or passionate, or brave. But this idea of gentleness struck me: a “spacious generosity,” not some sort of wilting weakness, not some kind of quiet, demure, shrinking away, but instead as something that is active, quietly strong, and counterintuitive. Jesus was gentle, but he was not walked over, or silenced. Even when he was crucified, it wasn’t because he was weak, or lacking in authority or boldness. Gentleness isn’t opposed to speaking up. Gentleness is not opposed to boundaries, or opinions, or enthusiasm. Instead, it is an openness of spirit, a curious, generous, capacious thing. And I’ll be honest, I still don’t always love all of this. It still feels deeply challenging to my sense of self. But I am learning, slowly, to see myself in this word, and to more deeply see God within it as well.
As this conversation between God and I has continued, it has also deepened into something more. It’s not just about my gentleness towards others. As a woman in ministry that posture is often expected of me, and honestly, I think that’s part of why I have been so resistant to the word. Instead, I was being invited to consider the gentleness (or lack thereof) that I offer myself. The Spirit has been prompting me to offer myself that same sense of generous, open, curious, spaciousness that I am often happy to give to others. This has proven even more difficult for me. So often I choose what it harder, just by default. I have been learning that the harder path is not always the one that Jesus is calling us to. I miss many opportunities to be kind to myself in small and simple ways. And I have been learning as I practice this that this gentleness to myself yields some unexpected results. It can yield a sense of freedom, and of openness. It can help the same task or circumstance feel lighter. It has led me into a deeper peacefulness, and a more abundant sense of God’s presence. It is hardly a cure-all, and it is still very difficult for me to practice, but this new gentleness has proven to be a gift. Uncomfortable prompts from the Spirit usually are.
Wellspring 