Patience Over Pride

When God Slows Your Reaction So He Can Heal Your Response

By Cherie Faulk | The Lost Conversation

Patience sounds peaceful until pride feels provoked.

It sounds good when everything is calm.

It sounds spiritual when you are talking about it after the fact.

But patience feels different when the message comes through and your body already knows what it wants to do.

When your face changes before your mouth says a word.

When your husband is trying to explain what happened, and you can hear the tiredness in his voice.

When another co-parenting situation comes up and something in you says, “I am so tired of this.”

That is where patience gets tested.

Not in the quiet moments.

Not when everything is going the way you prayed it would go.

But right there in the middle of the frustration, when your pride wants to stand up and defend everything your spirit is asking you to surrender.

There have been moments in this co-parenting journey where Dex and I have had to sit with things that did not feel fair.

Hard conversations.

Misunderstandings.

Parenting schedules.

Communication issues.

Emotions that were bigger than the actual moment because they were connected to so many moments before it.

And if I am being honest, there have been times when my first response was not patience.

It was pride.

Not the loud kind that announces itself.

Not the kind that says, “I am better than everybody.”

But the kind that feels justified.

The kind that says, “I know I’m right.”

The kind that says, “I’m not about to keep being quiet.”

The kind that says, “Somebody needs to say something.”

The kind that convinces you that reacting quickly is the same as responding wisely.

But it is not.

Sometimes the quickest response is just the most wounded one.

And God has been showing me that every reaction does not deserve my obedience.

There have been nights when Dex and I talked through things at the table, in the car, in the bedroom after the house got quiet.

The kind of talks where you are not yelling, but you are heavy.

Where you are both trying to be mature, but you can feel the pressure sitting in the room.

Where one part of you wants to pray, and the other part of you wants to prove a point.

And I have had to catch myself.

Because sometimes I was not just upset about what happened.

I was upset because I felt helpless.

I could not fix it for him.

I could not make people understand his heart.

I could not make the process move faster.

I could not protect him from every disappointment.

I could not control the outcome.

And when you cannot control something, pride will sometimes try to make you feel powerful by giving you a reaction.

A sharp word.

A long text.

A cold silence.

A tone that says more than your sentence did.

A look that carries everything you are trying not to say.

But patience asks for something different.

Patience asks me to slow down before I speak from a place God is still healing.

Patience asks me to let the Holy Spirit check my tone before my pride uses truth as a weapon.

Patience asks me to remember that the child is still watching, even when the adults are the ones hurting.

Patience asks me to care more about the atmosphere of my home than the satisfaction of being right in the moment.

And that is hard.

Because pride does not always feel ugly when you are hurt.

Sometimes pride feels like protection.

It feels like finally speaking up.

It feels like standing on business.

It feels like, “No, I’m not letting this slide.”

And there are times when things do need to be addressed.

There are times when boundaries need to be clear.

There are times when silence is not wisdom.

But there is a difference between speaking from peace and speaking from pride.

There is a difference between setting a boundary and trying to win.

There is a difference between telling the truth and trying to make sure somebody feels the weight of your hurt.

God knows the difference.

And deep down, so do we.

I have had to ask myself some hard questions in this season.

Do I want peace, or do I just want to be proven right?

Do I want healing, or do I want someone to finally understand how much this has cost us?

Do I want God to lead my response, or do I want my feelings to have the final say?

Do I want the children to experience safety, or do I want them to feel the tension I have not surrendered yet?

Because the truth is, children may not know every detail, but they feel pride in the room.

They feel when adults are trying to win against each other.

They feel when conversations are loaded.

They feel when patience has left and everybody is just trying to survive the moment.

And I do not want that to be the atmosphere we build.

I do not want Dex’s son, or any child connected to us to learn that love has to be loud to be real.

I do not want them to think being right matters more than being whole.

I do not want them to inherit our reactions because we refused to let God teach us patience.

So sometimes the most spiritual thing I can do is pause.

Not because I do not have anything to say.

But because I have too much to say, and not all of it is coming from the right place.

Sometimes I have to take a breath before I respond.

Sometimes I have to tell Dex, “I need a minute, because I don’t want to speak out of frustration.”

Sometimes I have to pray before I type.

Sometimes I have to delete the paragraph.

Sometimes I have to let the conversation wait until my heart is no longer trying to defend itself.

That is not weakness.

That is wisdom.

James 1:19 says:

“Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.”
— James 1:19

Slow to speak.

That part will humble you when you are used to having an answer.

Slow to become angry.

That part will stretch you when your anger feels justified.

Quick to listen.

That part will challenge you when all you want is for somebody to finally listen to you.

But God does not give instructions to make us feel small.

He gives instructions to keep us free.

Because some words cannot be taken back.

Some reactions leave residue.

Some moments become memories for children who should have never had to carry them.

And some battles are not worth the damage pride will create trying to win them.

First Corinthians 13:4 says:

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.”
— 1 Corinthians 13:4

Love is patient.

Not love is always comfortable.

Not love always gets its way.

Not love always feels understood.

Love is patient.

And patience is not just waiting.

Patience is how you wait.

It is how you speak while you are waiting.

It is how you pray while things are unresolved.

It is how you treat people when your emotions are valid, but your flesh still needs discipline.

It is how you keep your home from becoming a reflection of every outside frustration.

I am learning that pride wants to move fast.

Pride wants the last word.

Pride wants to defend.

Pride wants to correct.

Pride wants to be seen as the one who was right all along.

But patience moves differently.

Patience takes its time.

Patience asks God for language.

Patience lets wisdom settle before the mouth opens.

Patience understands that everything true does not need to be said harshly.

Patience understands that every battle does not need my voice at full volume.

Proverbs 19:11 says:

“A person’s wisdom yields patience; it is to one’s glory to overlook an offense.”
— Proverbs 19:11

That verse is not saying ignore everything.

It is not saying pretend nothing hurts.

It is not saying let people cross boundaries and call it godly.

But it is saying there is wisdom in not letting every offense pull a reaction out of you.

There is glory in restraint.

There is maturity in not letting every moment have access to your peace.

There is strength in saying, “I could respond from pride, but I am choosing patience because God is doing something deeper in me.”

And maybe that is what this season has been teaching me.

Maybe patience is not just about other people.

Maybe patience is about what God is forming in me while I wait for things around me to change.

Maybe patience is about my marriage.

Because Dex and I have had to learn how to not let outside pressure turn into inside tension and how to sit with hard things without turning on each other.

We have had to learn how to communicate when both of us are tired.

We have had to learn that being on the same team does not mean we always process pain the same way.

Sometimes he needs quiet.

Sometimes I need to talk it through.

Sometimes he is trying to stay calm, and I am trying not to become consumed.

Sometimes we are both doing the best we can, but the weight is still heavy.

And in those moments, patience has to show up between us too.

Not just toward the situation.

Toward each other.

Because pride can sneak into marriage during stressful seasons.

It can make you impatient with the person standing beside you.

It can make you take your frustration out on the safest person in the room.

It can make you forget that both of you are carrying something.

It can make you hear tone where there is tiredness.

It can make you respond to exhaustion like it is rejection.

And I do not want pride to make an enemy out of the person God gave me as a partner.

So I am learning to slow down with Dex too.

To listen better.

To not assume.

To not make my emotions the only emotions in the room.

To give grace when he is processing.

To let him be human without making his heaviness about me.

To remember that patience is not only something I owe people outside our home.

It is something I have to practice inside it.

Ephesians 4:2 says:

“Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love.”
— Ephesians 4:2

Completely humble.

Gentle.

Patient.

Bearing with one another in love.

That is not always easy when life feels heavy.

But it is necessary.

Because blended family life will expose the places where love is still learning patience.

It will show you where pride still wants control.

It will show you where your peace is still too easily moved.

It will show you where old wounds are still answering new situations.

And if you let Him, God will not just use the situation to teach you how to deal with others.

He will use it to heal the part of you that keeps reacting from pain.

I do not want to be led by pride.

I do not want my first instinct to be proving a point.

I do not want to confuse being strong with being sharp.

I do not want to call impatience honesty.

I do not want to call anger discernment.

I do not want to call control protection.

I want to be the kind of woman who can pause long enough to hear God.

The kind of wife who can speak life even when things are stressful.

The kind of mother who can create peace even when the process is not peaceful.

The kind of woman who knows when to speak, when to pray, when to wait, and when to let God handle what my pride keeps trying to touch.

Proverbs 16:32 says:

“Better a patient person than a warrior, one with self-control than one who takes a city.”
— Proverbs 16:32

That scripture reminds me that self-control is strength.

Patience is strength.

Restraint is strength.

Not every warrior looks like someone fighting back.

Sometimes the warrior is the woman sitting quietly, asking God to clean her heart before she responds.

Sometimes the warrior is the wife choosing not to let bitterness enter her marriage.

Sometimes the warrior is the mother protecting the atmosphere of her home.

Sometimes the warrior is the woman deleting the message because the Holy Spirit said, “Not like that.”

Sometimes the warrior is the one who chooses patience over pride, even when pride had a whole speech ready.

That is where I am.

Learning in real time.

Messing up sometimes.

Catching myself sometimes.

Apologizing sometimes.

Starting over sometimes.

But still asking God to make me slower to anger and quicker to listen.

Still asking Him to help me respond from wisdom instead of woundedness.

Still asking Him to teach me how to be patient without becoming passive.

Humble without becoming silent.

Gentle without becoming weak.

Strong without becoming prideful.

Because I still believe God can do more with my patience than I can do with my pride.

Today, I choose patience over pride.

Not because the situation is easy.

Not because I do not have feelings.

Not because I always get it right.

Not because I am okay with everything.

I choose patience because peace matters.

I choose patience because my marriage matters.

I choose patience because the children matter.

I choose patience because my heart matters.

I choose patience because God is still working on me.

And I choose patience because I do not want pride to make me react in ways that my spirit will have to recover from later.

Sometimes the win is not having the last word.

Sometimes the win is keeping your heart clean.

Sometimes the win is choosing peace when your pride wanted permission to rise.

Sometimes the win is looking at God and saying, “I wanted to respond differently, but I trust Your way more than mine.”

Prayer

Father,

Help me choose patience over pride.

Not just when things are easy.

Not just when I feel calm.

Not just when I understand what You are doing.

But in the moments when I feel provoked, misunderstood, tired, or ready to react.

Teach me how to slow down before I speak.

Teach me how to listen without preparing a defense.

Teach me how to respond with wisdom instead of woundedness.

Show me where pride has been hiding behind my need to be right.

Show me where impatience has been shaping my tone.

Show me where I have called control protection.

Show me where I have allowed frustration to lead me instead of Your Spirit.

Give me the wisdom to protect the peace in our home.

Protect every child connected to our obedience.

Do not let them inherit what could be pride in me.

Do not let them be shaped by my impatience.

Do not let them carry the weight of adult frustration.

I declare peace.

Make my heart teachable and my responses holy.

And when pride tries to rise, remind me that patience is not weakness.

It is strength under surrender.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

I  declare will be patient and slow to anger, even when pride tries to rise.

Where has pride been trying to rush your response, and what would it look like to let God teach you patience in that place?