Occasionally I got a whiff of something foul, then I got used to it. And trust me, Febreze wasn’t going to cure my nose blindness. My heart didn’t feel dark and my face shined with its usual smile, but underneath the surface, I was testy. Others might find a less pleasant descriptive word, but they never said it to my face and it didn’t show up in my dim reflection in the mirror. At least, not until someone I barely knew flicked on the spotlight. So here’s my apology, I’m sorry, I really am.
At every opportunity, I took a little gig. Here a gig, there a gig, everywhere a gig, gig. Sadly, there were lots of opportunities. I walked around like a beast with a sword, slashing anyone who crossed my path. But here’s the scary part – I never knew it. I got so used to bitterness boiling through my mind that when a little spilled out, it felt good. Or at least human and normal. The recipients of my distasteful words were usually innocent bystanders who were left raising an eyebrow and shaking their head.
Out of the overflow of the heart
“What you say flows from what is in your heart.” Luke 6:48b NLT
And my heart was rotting. On the outside I looked good, and repeatedly said I’m okay; to convince others or myself, I’m not sure, but the love I normally feel for others was stained by the incessant dialogue inside my head and I was powerless to stop it.
Covering my ears wouldn’t help, since it came from within. Oh, I tried to do better. I really tried, and temporarily I succeeded, until the vile boiled over and spilled on whoever happened to invade my atmosphere of woundedness.
Trying to fill the deep, deep hurt in my heart, I campaigned for sympathy and credibility. The truth is, I got more than a little impatient with a God who promises justice. Intellectually I knew the truth, but emotionally I was crumbling. And I was worn out from trying to change myself, because the reality is, I am powerless to change.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 5:3 NIV
Poor in spirit
I’m not just poor in spirit, I’m downright broke. Busted and unable to fill the gaping holes in my heart and unable to feel love and joy, instead sauntering around like the queen of vile spraying my unforgiveness and stinking up the whole place. Until finally someone I barely know held her nose and crinkled her forehead. What’s that smell? It smells like unforgiveness and bitterness. I knew she was right. A denial never even formed in my mind; truth has a way of exposing itself and the stark shock of it brought me to tears. Then it brought me to my knees. I could talk the talk but I couldn’t walk the walk and everyone around me paid for it. Irritable. Intense. In charge, but not really. My quest for control stemmed from my lack of it.
“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” Psalm 51:17 ESV
I’m sorry
This was written a while back (well, not that far back) and honestly I’d just like to keep it private, but that feels a bit hypocritical. Besides, I owe a public thank you to one who spoke the truth in love.
Oh wow!!! I could have written this! My feelings exactly!