Brave Heart

Have you ever been at the receiving end of some form of injustice?

The lie or gossip about you that is spread layer over layer of either pure vindictiveness or someone that just feeds on some nasty behaviour.

Well I have. It’s been going on for  a couple of years and the levels of vindictive behavior I had to endure has been everywhere from being plain laughable to honestly bringing me to my knees asking God what did I do to deserve this extend of cruelty? I have sat with utter disbelief that one person can throw around so much hate and evil in an attempt to show her dislike for me and it has spread to the extend of roping in any busy body that will help her feed on her hatred to gang up. I have reached a point of quite frankly finding any sane reasoning behind her actions towards me.

I wont bore you with too much detail but today, those bubbling feelings of anger at the injustice I was served by this person, just welled up inside of me to the point that I was actually having conversations with myself. It was not a pretty, you-have-this-girl conversation. I even answered myself to some of my questions, because sometimes you need expert advise. My own kind of crazy I know.

I sit back now, calming my mind while I write this. I’m asking myself, why am I opening this up again?

I thought I worked through it. I forgave. I try to ignore this person even if it’s terribly hard to do, as she lives in the same complex as myself. I’m trying to show I’m the better one by not allowing her actions to phase me.

I realised where it all started. Friday morning I came face to face with one of this lady’s friends. We will call her Delilah for now. I have had the not so pleasure of these two Damsels really telling nasty lies about me and it infiltrated my church, my place of work and my home life. I won’t load you with all the details its not important. I was told that the only way Delilah would stop was if I apologised to her and her family, and admit to the lie she told of me. I was shamed even more and I can’t explain the hurt I felt. My face was rubbed in it and I was shattered.

My anger and hatred for everyone involved sat like a cockroach on a bowl of ice cream. I pushed the feelings aside. Not thinking of it of course, would prove to me that I have forgiven. Stick a plaster and move on by keeping your shoulders straight and smile everyday.

Boy was I wrong.  Friday, Delilah saw me in a public space and came to me, greeting me as if we were old friends who have not seen each other in years. I could not be anything but cold and dismissive towards her. That plaster I stuck was ripped off in one swift movement and I could feel my insides already boiling. The audacity she had to even act as if nothing was wrong!

She got the message that I was not very interested in conversation and she walked off. Ever since, the feelings I tucked away in my little Pandora’s box, rose up in me again like a little volcano. Ok that’s a lie. A huge volcano. All the old scenes of humiliation and hurt I felt opened up like an old festering wound. The next two days I found my mind racing a million horse races over and over. Replaying scenes with many should have and could haves.

Before church this morning, I told myself. If she comes to me again today in church I’m gonna…. Oh boy! I’m gonna give it to her. I will say this about how much she has hurt me. And what gives her the right…rehearsing the events. Anyone experienced that before? One can become very bold and brave in your own mind!

My plan was to make sure everyone will hear the truth. And she will get a taste of her own medicine.

Oh I think Jesus quietly sneaked out of my mind.

I found it difficult to concentrate during worship because I knew she was sitting behind me and my chants of playing the scene trough in my head went over and over, My sleeves were rolled up. My tongue oiled ready for the lashing I had planned. I had a Braveheart movie scene. Blue face paint saying “They may take your dignity and shame you, but they will not take your freedom!” Lol I think I need a camera to take a picture of that!

Then I felt it. That tap on my shoulder. With a Ugh-um! Throat clean. Foot tapping whilst looking over His spectacles at me with that all too familiar voice of the One always on my side. Saying “She hasn’t even come up to you yet and you are already rehearsing it all! Like what’s up with that?”

Oh Lord, I’m sorry. I became so blinded with my need to be Judge, Jury and Executioner. I wanted to slam the gavel down and declare the sentence that will force her to clear my name and reveal the truth. To make her feel the shame and hurt that I have felt. I have forgotten the promises God made me.

I have effectively taken Jesus out of the Judges seat and got in it myself.

So I ask myself this. How do I clean this wound. Allow it to breathe and let it heal. How do I give this over to God?

Well, I have to see it at the cross. Imagine that little bag we carry. Filled with little memory stones. Memory for this hurt. Memory for that trauma. This anger and that sadness. And we carry it day in and out. Sometimes we carry it in front of us. Our hands are forever full that it consumes us and we can’t have the freedom to do anything else.

Sometimes we carry it on our backs. Out of sight out of mind. And we think we have dealt with it. But ever so often something happens and it ends up in the front again for us to deal with like I had to this weekend. I have to take that bag of emotions and put it at the cross and allow God to take it and replace it with a bunch of flowers. A hug filled with love. Perhaps even a chocolate milkshake to fix it all. Whatever goodness you need to have replaced with He will be true and just to His promise to you.  But we have to let it go.

When I get so worked up playing my Braveheart movie scene over, I allow that little rock of whatever feeling is brewing to always stay with me. I can not have the freedom I desire.

Now believe me. Typing that is much easier than doing it. I am human like everyone and although that niggling feeling is there to pick that bag of stones up again and maybe throw a couple of rocks at Delilah, figuratively speaking of course. I realise that it will do absolutely nothing for my case.

So, as I get ready for bed time and some quiet time with my Father. I will leave you with this. Is it worth it to be bent over, stewing over and over about something that has caused you harm or is it so much more worth it to give the bag to the One that wants it bad enough because He has better plans for you?

I see some homework for myself. It will be hard in the beginning but I know the reward will be so much greater.