Why I oughta...

I'm not a bad person.  I get along with most people.  In fact, I'd be hard pressed to dislike someone.

But not, when I meet those few people, I can't stand them.  And that, honestly, is a problem.

See, I'm called to love all people, regardless of my feelings about said people.  And it's all well and good, so long as I happen to like those people.  But what about those who injure me, physically or emotionally?  What about that one person who gets under my skin like no one else?  That one person that I feel justified to hate, just because they aren't the best example of humanity?  Because we are all there at some point in our lives, and I'm sure I drive some people nuts.  But still, there are those special people, the ones that go out of their way to make you miserable.  They're not good people, so we shouldn't have to treat them better than they treat us, Golden Rule and all that, right?

Well, God has a pretty clear response to that line of thinking.

"You have heard that it was said, 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.'  But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.  He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.  If you love those who love you, what reword will you get?  Are not even the tax collectors doing that?  And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others?  Do not even pagans do that?  Be perfect, therefore, ans your heavenly Father is perfect."
 ~Matthew 5:43-48

Well, dang.  So much for justifying my dislike.  Ignoring them is one thing; I can usually handle that, but praying for4 them?  And my own situation being so shallow, what of those who are truly persecuted across the world?  They, more than anyone, ought to have the right to hate those who are attacking them.  But to pray?  It's more than they deserve, surely?

Well, the problem I've encountered is that it's not up to me to decide whether or not they deserve mercy and compassion.  As much as I may feel justified, the state of another's eternal soul is out of my hands.  I'm not God (and thank God, I might add...everyone would be dead!), and their actions and choices are not my responsibility.  Which is great.  God hasn't saddled me with an obligation to keep track of all the wrongs committed by others. 

Mine is not to question, but obey.  Which means praying for those who do me wrong.  Which is, you guessed it...not my favorite, but okaaayyyy, if you say so, God.

But here's the catch (and it's a good one): when I start to buckle down, grit my teeth, and earnestly start to pray, something changes.  While I still may not particularly like that person, I start to see them with God's perspective, and it changes things.  That person who was so rude to me the other day is suffering, from a lack of love, a lack of God, a lack of hope.  I, in my complaining, am missing out on a work of change and restoration God desires me to pray and battle for in that person.

The truth is, I don't know what anyone's situation is, and to be offended by their conduct sinks me to a fleshly level that never brings forth any sort of goodness or life.  And I don't want that.  The world has given me nothing to be proud of.  Nothing.

So here's my challenge, for myself, and for you.  Instead of acting or reacting like you normally would, when you encounter someone who is less than kind to you, when you recall or can't get over a wrong someone's done you, or when that one person who drives you nuts is around, stop for a couple minutes, and start praying for them, and allow God to loosen the anger and dislike from your heart.  Try it for a week, try it for a day, but try it.  You might find that the results are absolutely, always, worth it.

Besides, how badly can a little obedience hurt?

~Fumble 

I love you for sentimental reasons

Well now.

I haven't written much of anything for months.  Maybe because I've been tired.  Maybe because I work so much.  Maybe because I'm afraid I don't write anything much worth reading.  I've seen and read so much loveliness, and I'm ashamed of myself, my own banality.

Which is silly.  I've come this far, surpassed myself in so many ways.  I shouldn't be cowed, but encouraged.

But I've been cleaning house.  Doing the dangerous deed of sorting through what I've collected in nearly twenty-two years, and throwing away bits of my past.

An awful drawing.  A scribble of word on a page.  Frustrations I used to have, wishes I used to make, hopes I used to hold.  One by one, laid on the throw pule.  Laid, because crumpling them up and throwing is still too painful.

Who was she, the me of six years ago?  The cripplingly shy social outcast who told herself it didn't matter?  Because it doesn't--not much, at least.  Not enough to wish I could do it over.  But why do those days seem so much simpler?

"Why does the past always seem safer?
Maybe because at least we know we made it..."
~Chris Rice, "8th Grade"

I think that's it right there, but I wish I could convince myself that tomorrow is just as important, even if it isn't safe, or even guaranteed.

Today clings to me, though.  Its fingers are those of regret and emptiness.  They're usually worst around 11:53 pm, when tomorrow is finally reaching out for me, promising that it'll be different, and new.

It is a strange thing, to know, but not to be convicted and convinced by that knowledge.  To be renewed in my mind and transformed from glory to glory seems too good to be true, and yet I desperately need for it to be so.

God help me, in my weak, emotional, human estate.  I need and crave the newness You endow.  I am so much more than poor, but I am lowly, and dim in spirit.  I crave Your Spirit as the barren ground craves rain and growth.  I want to grow, to become more than what I am, bit the attainment of such a state is so far beyond me, I can scarcely relinquish my doubt.

Be my light, incomprehensible by darkness, infinite and everlasting.

~Fumble