Words and Band-Aids

Recently, my church went through some heartache. A few families left our church, and much of it stemmed from something someone said. What we didn't understand was how deeply those words cut. Even the families who left didn't realise the damage done to them until it was exposed. My first thought was,"How can words hurt so badly?" But one thing I've learned about creation, is that it's a direct reflection of its creator.  So I opened my bible to gaze upon the Face of God.

Genesis 1:3 "And God said Let there be light. And there was light..."

Hebrews 4:12 "For the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any twoedged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart."

I think it's safe to say that God's Word is powerful. He spoke, and it was. He speaks through His Word, and it cuts to the heart of us. Now back to Genesis where it says Man is made in the likeness and image of God. Man has been given certain characteristics that belong to God; intellect, creativity, dominion, and speech. We are a tiny shadow of our Creator, and as His words have power, so ours do as well, albeit not on as grand a scale. If God's word is compared to a two-edged sword. I would compare our words to something like a two-by-four.

"Hey, what's wrong with you?!" CRACK!

"Son, can't you do anything right?" CRACK!

"Well, at least I'm not ugly like that guy over there."CRACK!

"Mom, you're a loser. I don't want to be seen with you."CRACK! CRACK!

"I hate you! I don't ever want to see you again! I want a divorce." CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Some people grow up hearing that kind of stuff their entire lives. They bury their heart, along with their trust, and their sensitivity, in a stone room in the deepest levels of their soul. They develop what they call "thick skin", which really means "What you say will only hurt me if I can't think of a good comeback". These people go through life always on the offensive, leaving a wake of bruised faces behind them.

There's another kind of person you may meet. These people are rare, but they are out there. When you say something to hurt them, they feel it. It cuts them, and they hurt just like anyone else. But something is different. They belong to Someone who can heal that hurt. They belong to Someone who gives them the grace to forgive you. They belong to Jesus Christ. Someone who took all hurt, all pain, all judgement, so that everyone, even the "thick skinned", can have a relationship with Him, now and after this life is over.

When people make you angry, don't pray for patience. Patience comes by practice. Instead, pray for grace to forgive. And all cliches aside, watch your mouth.

What to do in Sardinia?

Ok. Here I am, on a semi-tropical desert island. It's 95 degrees in the heat of the day, 70 at night. I'm working, but you could barely call it that. Beach every weekend, except for this upcoming, because we're going sailing. All on your hard-earned tax payer dollars. Just kidding!

How do you confront someone you've hurt so deeply? Do you blurt it all out at once, and then wait for the inevitable punch to the face? Do you drop little hints that you're sorry for a general everything? What about when the one you hurt is the King of Kings? What if it's been a while? What if the sins were so numerous, you can't remember them all? Do you try to name them, knowing you'll fail and miss many of them, or do you just throw out a generic "Hey, I'm sorry! Take me back?"

I think I'll start on my knees.

Home

I awake to the sound of the neighbor's dog barking at people passing on the sidewalk. From some distant corner of my street drifts the faint roar of a lawn mower. I can hear my mother on the phone down in some part of the house. The first thing I see when I wake up is the crib on the other side of my room, and I remember who slept in it for their nap the day before. Out the window, summer is in full swing, with birds chirping, leaves green with life, and kids playing in the yard next door. This is my home. It's been my home for 11 years. Only today, I finally understand what's happening. I'm leaving the nest for keeps.

God has been doing so many things in my life. He allowed me to join the Air Force with very little trouble, blessed me with the most amazing girlfriend I could have asked for. He showed me that He would take care of me, and keep me from evil. But the best thing that God ever did for me, aside from saving me, was giving me a family that loves me. Without my family, I'd be nothing. They are a permanent part of my home. They made it real. I hope my next home will be just as real.

Oops

What is the answer?

Things seem so much harder when I'm not trusting God. I try so hard to do what I think I should do, and I fail. Or if I succeed, I feel so drained of energy, that the sweet taste of victory is bitter in my mouth. Life seems devoid of itself. Only sleep brings temporary satisfaction, food provides something to do, but after that, it all reverts back to the empty shell of loneliness.

That void, that space inside me, can only be filled by God. It cannot be filled with music, or laughter. It cannot be filled with lust, or simple companionship. It cannot be filled with philosophy, or knowledge. Only Abba can take away the gnawing pangs of despair that we feel without Him. My relationship with my Father is, for lack of a better term, necessary. It is like oxygen, or water. It is my source of life. When I and my Father are close, joy abounds. When I stray, falling to my own sinful desires, the void returns, giving only one, very cruel option to end the hurt. "Die," it cries from the depths of my soul. "Put us to rest". But that is not the real answer. That is the coward's way out. The selfish glutton's final ambition. The fool's end to punishment.

I know the answer.