Bitterness

Not long ago, my husband and I were deeply hurt by the actions and words of someone we had previously respected.  Now, as we search for a new beginning, I struggle to keep the root of bitterness from taking hold in my life.  My sinful heart wants to blame that person for so many things, to lash out and to tell anyone and everyone who will listen the depth of my hurt.  But, I know that that is not what I am called to do.

Bitterness is common in my family.  I come from a lineage of 50+ years of multi-generational family feuding and, while I don't believe that sin is hereditary, I do see trends in the sins of family members.  I can't change the past, but my branch on the family tree has yet to be completed and I can choose a different course than the ones that have defined five decades.  

So, I am committing to pray for the one who hurt us.  I commit to pray that that person finds joy in Christ and that God will be glorified.  I commit to find every possible means to forgive that person, so far as it depends on me.  

Trust for that person is gone and, without repentance and obvious change, cannot be restored, but saying that I forgive means, for me, that I choose to live without bitterness and that I choose to see that God can still work in that person's life.

The plan

About a month ago, I read a book entitled Embracing Obscurity.  The author, who chose to remain anonymous, points out the tendency we all have to seek out the approval of others and how that tendency directly contradicts the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

I've long been a people pleaser and, as my first post on this blog points out, much of my life has revolved around gaining the praise and approval of others.  The timing of this realization came in the midst of some trials and several twists that have me realizing that the course of my life is not going to go according to the plan I intended.

The plan itself is irrelevant, save for the fact that it mostly revolved around what others thought of me and what I wanted for me.  But, due to the many years I dreamed of it, letting it go and watching it slip away have been difficult.  I'm crushed, weary and broken.

Yet, as I see my plan crashing and burning before my eyes, I also have hope.  I don't have hope that these trials will just vanish, but I do have hope in a God who brings beauty from ashes.  I see Him working in the little things: in my deepened desire for His Word, in a pastor who has shown concern for my trials, in seeing the depth of my sin more clearly, in a friend who continues to speak the truth into my life and in my husband's acts of kindness and love.

I don't know how this will all end, but I do know that these trials are shaping me and my relationship with God in a way that nothing else ever has and, for that reason alone, I thank God.

Me

I once had grand ideas, thinking that I would change the world and do something great with my life.  I've since settled into adulthood, finding that the daily life of a donor database diva (as I was once dubbed) doesn't quite live up to the dreams and ideals I held to in childhood.

Truthfully, some days I think that the child version of me would find the adult version of me quite boring and unimpressive.  The child version of me had visions of practicing medicine in remote places, teaching school, feeding the hungry, solving ancient mysteries and discovering the cure for cancer.

But, despite her philanthropic leanings, the child version of me was truthfully selfish.  The child version of me did want to help, but she wanted to help so that others would see how great she was, how smart, how talented, how helpful and so on.  Her first concern was what others thought of her.

I still wrestle with the voice of the child version of me.  I wrestle with her as I begin this blog.  For you see, I want to write some of the thoughts and ideas that I'm working through, but I want to write them for the glory of God and not for the purpose of making anyone think more highly of me.