A famous study in the 1970s presented young children with a single, clear instruction: You can eat the marshmallow in front of you now, or wait and receive a second one later.
While the Stanford Marshmallow Experiment was geared towards children, it presents all generations with a timeless lesson: the value of patience. Certainly, for each child sitting in that chair, the thought of double the prize was a worthy foil against the immediacy of taste, and the choice presented a sincere predicament.
Yet, while there exist admirable, universal truths in this study, there are also sincere differences for the Christian. One of these, relevant to this piece, is the meaning and reception of patience. In the Stanford Experiment, the children were driven by tangible, temporal products. For the believer, patience is attached to spiritual and eternal truths.
A Work of God
James writes: “But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing” (James 1:4, NKJV).
Perhaps the first thing to note is that, in God’s kingdom, patience is a work God does rather than a virtue a man must apply. It is a fruit we let waste or one we allow to blossom through the acceptance of God’s ways.
In the experiment, naturally, some children ate the sweet immediately, unable to wait for the reward. Similarly, as believers, we may forfeit the reward of patience by turning our back on the work of God, believing a better channel exists for his will to be complete. We stifle the plan of God through our own lens of timing, unwilling to wait for the gift of his finished design.
In contrast, there were children who did wait, doing all sorts of things to avoid eating the marshmallow. Some squirmed, covered their eyes, sang, or distracted themselves via funny contortions—all to postpone the struggle of delay. But they were rewarded. As believers it is the same for us even though submission to God’s ways is not comfortable. We may not contort, cover our eyes or sing, but our hearts are tested as our natural assertions are withdrawn. Perhaps it is why David speaks of the value of a broken and contrite heart, a heart that contorts as it yields to the perfect work of God.
A closer look at the word work in James suggests that as we embrace this labor of patience, it allows God to complete his aims and endeavors in our lives. For a believer, none of the issues we endure are without purpose, and there is as much value in the work of patience as there is in the outcome of God’s plans. Such truths explain why James says we may be perfect and complete.
In contrast to the world, the believer’s inheritance is spiritual, consummated at the return of Christ yet begun on earth as we accept God’s work. It is here that we begin to inherit the life of Christ—a life we gain neither through the covering of our eyes or the gritting of our teeth but via the road of patience which assists our endurance to the end. Teleios is the Greek word James uses for perfect. It is a word which beautifully reveals a God who views our lives with an intended purpose and outcome.
As we give room to this craftsman of patience, God produces men and women who are perfect and complete—fully mature and more like Jesus. Of course, this does not mean we are wholly rid of sin but, rather, that we become the fully mature product God intends us to be. Paul, driven by a father-like desire, writes to the Galatian church that his first wish is for Christ to be formed in them. Such a goal is possible only when we allow patience to craft a full day in our lives.
A Spiritual Purpose
Through James, God further uncovers the extent to which he will go—not only that we are perfect but fully perfect, lacking nothing. In a world driven by tangible, material gain, we are taught to place higher value on the product more than anything else. But for the believer, the love of God affords as much a spiritual purpose in the path as in the product we receive at its end.
Before our third child was born, we had settled on the name Mayah. We chose it because of its Hebrew meaning: from or close to God. After a few weeks, she began to lose movement in her left side, until eventually we took her to see a pediatrician. This was the first of the myriads of trips to doctors both in this country and online. The prognosis was bleak: Mayah appeared to have a rare disorder that would result in profound physical and cognitive disabilities. It was difficult to reconcile such a dark diagnosis with the truth that God’s work is interminably perfect. I remember the many mornings, pushing her in the baby chair and grappling with what God had allowed. All of the spiritual, emotional, and practical thoughts formed the bedrock of my life until, slowly, I began to accept his plan.
Three years later—if you ask me what I remember most—it is not necessarily the miracles we saw in Mayah when she began to develop healthily. What I can remember, and what I do carry, is the brokenness of heart, which came through the realization that God is in control, not me. It is the more sincere prayer life, and the tangible relationship I developed with him. Nothing in this world can replace that. It is what the perfect work of patience, as it molds and crafts, affords believers. As we allow it, we lack nothing. On the contrary, we have full access to everything of the grace of God.
As believers, we are not like children waiting for the fluffy substance of marshmallows or the temporary treats that fill us. In the Kingdom of God we are waiting for eternal truths, truths that as we endow with patience, we inherit in eternity with Christ. What a vision to work towards, and what a victory our patience delivers.
[A version of this article was published in Christian Daily International in February 2026.]
