Two pieces of zucchini bread and a half a bag of chips later, I am still just as angry.
Spitting mad and justifiably so–what was he thinking? Probably nothing. That’s the problem–not thinking of the ramifications of his words, and now I am stuck with the consequences. For weeks. Or months. And I hate it. And he doesn’t even see it. Blind and insensitive, non-thinking, that’s what he is. And I want to yell and tell him that he wronged me, and that I am so angry. But he’ll just say he’s sorry, and I know he will mean it, but that won’t change anything. I still have to bear the consequences. And I am just so angry.
I clam up. I ruminate. No words coming out of this mouth. Jut an attitude that stinks from here to the other side of the world and back.
And I know what to do, but I don’t want to do it. And I know that forgiveness would take care of it all, and my heart would be set free, but then I would have to give up my right to be angry, and I am just not ready. Not yet. Because the anger, it feels good. Feeding my flesh. Destructive. Powerful.
And it makes me sick. All the way down to my very spirit. And by now, the whole world is against me. No one gets me. I am alone and terribly lonely. And no one reaches out to me. Backed up in a corner. Trapped by my very own unforgiveness. Raw anger. Wallowing in it. And nothing eases the pain. But I just can’t let it go. But I just won’t let it go.
Have mercy, Lord Jesus, have mercy.
What is it that you want, Soul?
And the answer was quick and to the point: Revenge. I want him to know how much I hurt. I want him to suffer. And I know just how to do it. A few words thrown as sharp arrows will do the trick; and I know exactly which words to use–I know him so well. And it will feel so good to hurt back. So satisfying.
And His voice exploded, right in the center of my anger, light breaking through dark clouds–Extend the mercy you long for.
The words stopped me in my track. The anger boiling in my stomach felt like it got suspended in the middle–no more movement; dead calm in my belly. And my heart, it turned liquid inside of me, reaching my eyes. Tears flowed, turning into sobbing. Unstoppable.
And then, it was like a rainbow inside of me.
Mercy. The powerful freeing choice of not retaliating. Of gladly not giving what is due.
Mercy. He did not retaliate. He did not give me what was due me.
Mercy. The freedom of the righteous. Oh, the depths of His power in us.
I yielded to mercy. And I received it fully.
Cultivating Thankfulness with Ann Voskamp
#965 Potluck with my church family
#966 Celebrating my husband’s 60th
Sometimes, I link up with any or all of these wonderful writers: Hearts 4 Home, SDG, Hearts Reflected, WLW, EOA, Things I can’t say, Growing Home, Play Dates with God, Monday Musings, Hear it on Sunday,Inspire Me Monday, Tell me a Story, The Better Mom, a Mama’s Story, Into the Word, In and Around Mondays,OYHT, Gratituesday,Titus2Tuesdays, Extraordinay, Lessons from Ivy, Denise in Bloom, Sweet Blessings, Faith Filled Friday, Finding Joy, WholeHearted Home, Mom’s the Word, Reclaiming a Redeemed Life, Still Saturday