Assuming that God is indeed able to get the words correct in His Word, this particular one sets my brain on fire. I've toyed with this idea before, but have made valiant efforts to forget it. After all, it's not really what I believe, is it? It's certainly not...Biblical.
Is it?
But the fruit of the Spirit is...self-control.
Here's what I'm thinking:
This fruit of the Spirit is NOT "God-control." The term is "self-control".
A painful letter from an old "friend" opened old festering wounds again this weekend. For the fifty-eleventh time, I pondered the "same ol' things" coming from the same ol' person, and the same ol' tired feelings flooded in. Anger. Defensiveness. Grief. Hostility.
The Letter was meant to "put me in my place" after I'd sent an equally provocative three in her direction first.
Ever since forever, I've been a runner, escaping the uncomfortable situations, the moments requiring true honesty. I mean, what really is necessary to say, after all? Shouldn't somethings just be kept to myself? Is it not more kind to hold my tongue sometimes? "If you can't say something nice..."
Two years ago, I was thunderstruck by some very clear direction from The Divine to - God forbid! - tell the TRUTH!
Unthinkable! Rude! Disrespectful! Destructive! Needless!
God, how can I possibly...?
Eventually, I did.
The first letter was a bit awkward, and it took all my resolve to actually stamp its 38th version and leave it in the mailbox. A second one kind of flowed out of me a few months later. The third took me by surprise. I just sort of "went with it" and got "it all" off my chest.
Felt pretty good, I must admit. And I can't neglect the fact that with total disclosure, my need to hide dissipates significantly.
Yesterday, a scathing rebuke arrived in my mailbox. Les, this is what you get when you spit in the wind...
It's true. I ruminated and fumed all last night and part of today. Yes, the same old yuck boiled up from the bottom of somewhere. I guess I still have places in me to muck out.
The good news, though, is that God and I have spent 2 years on that job already. Today, I saw the reward for our considerable efforts.
Today, I saw how much I've changed.
Two years ago, a letter filled with that kind of passionate vitriol would have been my undoing.
Today? Let's just say that I gained new appreciation for the way "earth tones" can coordinate with any decor.
OK, now I'm not saying I've been all squeaky-clean with aforementioned friend. I've got a fair amount of clean-up mopping to do.
But I realized today something brand new.
Words no longer hold the power to define me or to threaten me. Or to make me run and hide.
As ugly and painful as it is, I can live with it.
It's kind of messy, but I'm feeling really secure and sure about myself and my standing with her, whether she likes it or not. The Letter is just so much sputter: the same ol' attempt to control me.
It always worked before, because I was afraid of the mess. I always assumed that being "a good girl" meant keeping everything looking spotless. And being spotless means keeping a lot of "it" to myself.
But the power play failed today, because I've chosen to be honest. To define myself. To define my limits. To say, "I've had enough of this. Don't treat me like this any more!"
Finally! I'm not controlled by my fear, or by social convention, or by notions of sacrificing personal integrity at the altar of a very un-peaceful peace.
When I'm honest, words and people and fear lose their power to control me.
I am self-controlled.
Bring on the fans! I'm feeling the need for some truth-telling!
