So I just accomplished something simple—but it taught me so much.
If you know me, you know I’m always looking for the lesson. Every moment has a whisper of truth if you’re willing to hear it.
This time, I was rocking my five-month-old daughter to sleep. I’ve done this many times before—walking, bouncing, singing, trying all the things to soothe her, sometimes having to pass her off to her mama when it just wasn’t working.
But over the last couple of days, I changed my approach. Instead of trying to get her to sleep on my timing, I watched her. I noticed her cues—how she’d rub her eyes or start looking around—and I just… waited.
No force. No rush. No pressure.
I just stood with her. Swayed gently like we were slow dancing. I hummed quietly. And after 15–20 minutes of that steady patience, she laid her head down on my shoulder—on her own. No push. No demand. Just rest, because she chose it.
That moment became a mirror. I saw myself in her.
How often does the Father rock us like that—steady, patient, present—waiting for us to rest? To stop fighting? To lean into Him not because we’re forced to, but because we finally decide we want to?
He who has ears… let him hear.
I thought about how Jesus spoke. How He moved. How He never forced truth onto people—He let them come into it. "Let him hear." That phrase stuck with me. There’s so much permission in the way Jesus operated. So much submission that still held authority.
It reminded me: people won’t change because we push. They change when they realize something for themselves. That’s when the Word becomes flesh in them. That’s when it sticks.
I could try to push my daughter’s head down and she’d lift it right back up. But when she was ready, she surrendered—and that changed everything.
This is the patience of Christ. The patience He has for you. For me. For all of us.
Even when He’s expecting more from us, even when He’s calling us to rest and trust and let go—He waits. He sways. He loves us through it.
“If any man will come after Me, let him deny himself…”
Even there—let him.
It’s a powerful kind of love. One that doesn’t demand but invites. And I’m learning to love like that too. Steady. Patient. Letting the Spirit do the work, instead of rushing to make something happen.
It won’t really hit until you submit.
That line’s been sitting with me. You might hear this and say, “Man, that’s a great story.” But it won’t really hit your heart until you choose to lay your head down. Until you surrender. Until you decide to stop fighting sleep and just rest in the arms that have been holding you all along.
“In your patience, possess ye your souls.” —Luke 21:19
You don’t possess your soul in a hurry. Not in striving. Only in patience.
So I’m learning Christ through fatherhood. And I’m letting the lessons land.
That’s Red in 30.
—DM
