We all have a go-to method of hiding pain. Maybe it’s food. Maybe it’s alcohol. Maybe it’s really good acting. But we do it. And it’s not to hide from the world around us. It’s to hide the hurt from ourselves.
My father died on a Friday afternoon in late March at the very beginning of the COVID crisis. Letting go and healing in months of isolation is what I would describe as macro-grieving.
When we try to escape forgiveness, we begin to build a wall. Brick-by-brick we praise our strength and admire just how efficiently we can protect our hearts.
I used to think there was something wrong with me. I would pray. I would worship. And I would study the Bible. (I even finished reading the whole Bible last year.) But it felt like I wasn’t growing.
I think shame is the worst of all enemies. It doesn’t matter what we did. And it doesn’t matter why we did it. Shame enters our heart and is nearly impossible to shake.
I used to invite everyone into my pillow fort. Most people hadn’t earned my trust, but I gave it to them anyways.
“Don’t drive through the neighborhoods where the drug dealers live.” It was wisdom my counselor offered to me last week. No, I don’t do drugs. But, yes, I struggle with unhealthy habits.
Stop waiting for it to be easy. This life. This walk in faith. Nowhere in the Bible does God promise days without downpours and moments without mountains. And, yet, our human nature tempts us with “easy buttons”.
It is a lie I was told long ago: “One day, you’ll escape the bully.” Only then, I grew up and came face-to-face with a painful, incredibly disappointing reality: The bully will follow you.
Last week, I had my first Twitter scuffle. A man, citing the “The Good Samaritan”, informed me that God only calls us to love neighbors who are kind and loving to us. Yep. So, I respectfully disagreed and ended any sort of escalation with a…
