I detected an underlying thread of discontentment in the beginning of the year.
“I’m wonky because of the pandemic," I told myself. "Sick of sanitizing, masking, and avoiding everyone, especially family.”
But this was different; it was more of a gnawing, irritable feeling, and it was getting bigger.
I was annoyed at both small and large things. A ridiculous statement posted on Facebook would set me off. “What’s the matter with her? Doesn’t she know better than to post that?”
Small, but often repeated offenses in my family would annoy me. “Put your sticky pancake plate in the sink and run some water over it! Don’t leave it on the counter!”
My emotional fuse was short, and anger was igniting most of my daily life. One early morning, after a restless, sleepless night, I made a quick coffee and, nestled into my comfy chair, started contemplating my life. “What is this? Something’s not right. Is this what SAD (seasonal affective disorder) or depression feels like? Am I losing it or, worse, becoming that angry, middle-aged woman I’ve heard about?”
I sat a bit longer and what bubbled up and flowed through my mind astounded me. “You’re unwilling to forgive," the silent voice within whispered. "You’re holding folks hostage, and I want you to release them and forgive. Don’t let this eat away at you for another minute.”
What? How can this be? A wonderful, godly woman, walking with Jesus for years not able to forgive?
It would’ve been so easy to dismiss the voice, brushing it off, acting like it was just my thoughts roaming or “beating myself up.” But I knew what I’d heard and as much as I didn’t like it, I knew it rang true. I also knew if I wanted to get rid of the anger and replace it with patience, empathy, and love, I had to give this place some space, push up my pajama sleeves and let the Holy Spirit lead me down a right path.
The work of forgiveness reminds me of my flower garden in September: the beauty has faded, flowers left behind are tired, dull, weary, and a bit crispy.
“Wow, just how I’m feeling. Father, this cannot be. Please transform my heart,” I sighed.
Just as the summer heat can do a number on my flower garden, the heat of holding people hostage can do a number on my heart. When I withhold love and forgiveness, bitterness can set in, causing me to become brittle and unteachable. Soon, a hard, protective layer will start to form, replacing the beauty of who God has created me to be in Christ. And I’m left with that angry, middle-aged woman! Ugh!
The Holy Spirit gently and methodically brought people to my mind. Those who’d bugged me or made me mad; those I’d been “eye-rolling” for years. (Anyone?) Those who my heart had been unwilling to forgive.
“I’m inviting you to a deeper path," the Holy Spirit nudged, "a path where forgiveness flourishes.”
I felt conviction. My eyes were opened. I saw and felt the waywardness of my heart.
“So Lord, where do I go from here?”
A Daily Practice
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my 45+ years of walking with God, it is that it’s not a race; it’s a journey. God doesn’t reward early birds; he rewards faithfulness.
Each morning, my waking thoughts are about showing up, checking in with God while I lay in my bed or when the coffee is brewing, saying, “I’m here, Lord. I thank you for being here with me. I greet you and this day, Holy Spirit, with gratefulness, joy, and peace.”
This practice isn’t about me planning my day and including God. This is about me humbly beginning my day with him. This isn’t a Bible Study, 15 minutes of prayer time or going through a devotional book. This is a simple, small act of opening my eyes and immediately surrendering myself back to him. He gives us everything we need for this life.
The fruit of the spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control – are by-products of a disciplined journey. When we practice showing up every day in grace and humility, this is what we walk away with. See, I don’t have anything good within me except for what he gives or grows in me. Even the grace to choose him comes from him. We are a completed work in him and only him. The only thing we provide is our “Yes.”
When we are unwilling or unable to forgive or show mercy, we may think we’re only giving people what they deserve and so we can feel justified in our withholding. Our satisfaction will be short-lived because we are left with anger, strife, bitterness, and judgment.
So, what do I do? Much like the crispy, overheated flowers stalks I’m left with in October, I cut them down. I cut down every thought, word and deed that doesn’t line up with the Word of God in my life. When the Holy Spirit shows me where I am holding on to offense I stop, take a breath, examine why, and cut down the dried flower stalk. An unexamined life is one where forgiveness is forgotten. I don’t want that.
So just as I prepare my garden space for winter dormancy and rest, I prepare my heart to receive the transforming work of the Holy Spirit, cutting down the stalks of anger, impatience, strife, and control. And when I step back and look at the freshly groomed places of my yard and heart, I know that the work put into it is worth it.
Learning forgiveness leaves more space for more fruit, and the fruit of the Holy Spirit is always delicious!
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