Yesterday was one of those days. The kind where you slowly
find yourself losing every bit of restraint you have. You see it unraveling
thread by thread and you just can’t seem to get a good enough grip to get the
deterioration under control. There’s something about repeating myself 50 times
in a row that really starts to boil my blood. My husband points this out to me
all the time. I let it go far too long without a consequence, and then, the
ugliness surfaces.
I was sitting at the table eating (I use this term loosely)
lunch with my 4 and 2 year-old boys. Already we had been relegated to eating
inside rather than enjoying the beautiful weather on the patio. Why, you ask?
The boys decided dumping water onto the patient, long-suffering neighbor cat
would be a good idea. They were banished indoors as a consequence. That was far
from the first consequence or correction that had been doled out that morning. As
I’m nagging my children to please finally eat their food, my oldest puts his
fork under his plate and starts using it as a lever to launch his untouched
hamburger into the air. I calmly ask him not to do this. He ignores me and
continues. We repeat this about 6 more times. The threads of patience are
quickly unraveling until I finally swoop up, grab his fork, and in a fit of
rage, I slam it down onto his plate. His Veggie Straws go flying all over the table
and onto the floor. I sit down in shame and defeat. My oldest laughs, trying to
incite his younger brother to join him. Then I look to the 2 year-old. He looks
at me with big eyes, lips pursed as though trying not to cry, and I saw fear. He
says to me with voice quivering, “You threw Aaron’s beggie straws on the table.
That’s naughty! You were naughty.”
I look into his eyes and I agree with him, then I drop my
eyes in shame while saying I’m sorry. They quickly move on, returning to not
eating their lunch and being silly. But I was stuck there for a moment. Why
have I completely lost control of myself? Why can’t I remain a civilized human
being and keep it together? Where is this ugliness coming from? I heard it said
once that it’s not a lack of ability, it’s a lack of motivation. They said if
someone were to offer you 1 million dollars to not lose your temper for a week,
you’d find a way to manage yourself. And, how sadly true that is. If I had
invited the neighbor inside to join us for lunch, for example, I’d be willing
to bet I would not have responded that way for fear of what someone else would
think.
“But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as
these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips…clothe
yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear
with each other…” Paul writes here in Colossians that we are to “rid” ourselves
of these things of our earthly nature. We are to “clothe” ourselves with these more
Godly attributes instead. I remember hearing Beth Moore point out once that
clothing ourselves is a description that suggests an intentional act of the
will, as is ridding ourselves of what is not desirable. It is a choice we must
constantly make. This is true…and convicting. And yet, I’m constantly failing
at it. I’m not doing it very well.
I feel like it would take an entire book to talk about all
of the things that go into helping us be successful in these moments of unraveling.
It’s a complex idea that is not as simple as a matter of the will. Things such
as rest and self-care, for example, go a long way in moments of chaos. But here’s
what God has been teaching me on this subject: More of him, less of me. He’s
asking me to abide in Him. I need to remain connected to the source of love,
patience, kindness, gentleness, and self-control. As I prayed this morning I
asked God to simply excise that ugly part of me if possible. But, in my
experience God uses time and circumstances to develop these parts of our
character. It’s a slow process of change rather than the quick, painless
process I hope for.
I beat myself up for failing and not simply making the right
choice in how to respond. I compare myself to other moms that are seemingly always so
calm, peaceful, and tender to their children. I grieve that I’m not
more like them. And yet, comparison gets us nowhere for God has designed me
differently. I have bonded a lot with Simon Peter in the last couple of years.
He and I are kindred souls. I often think of his impulsive and deeply
passionate reactions to situations and I can relate. I have yet to cut off any
ears, but perhaps that’s merely due to a lack of sword. He made some terrible
decisions, that Peter. And yet, God used those very same character traits for
His glory. Peter became the rock on which Christ built his church. He was
strong, decisive, bold, confident, and passionate about the Lord. Those same
qualities that led him astray in his flesh, became, in the Spirit, the very
foundation on which the church was built. This reminds me to love myself
exactly as God created me to be. Every weakness I see in myself is a strength
waiting to be refined.
Earlier in the book of Colossians Paul says to “set your
minds on things above, not on earthy things.” He also tells us to let the peace
of Christ rule in our hearts, to be thankful, and to let the word of Christ dwell
in us richly. As I cultivate relationship with the Lord, he will prune out
these parts of me that don’t bring him glory. He will continue to refine me. In
the moment of trial, I need to find the right motivation and skills to keep my
anger in check. But I find hope in knowing that every one of these moments is
an opportunity for God to teach me and to help me grow. He’s maturing me and
pruning this sinful part of my heart away so I can be more fruitful. If I will
just be honest and vulnerable, confessing my sin, he will use it for his glory.
And, these moments of shame will be redeemed one day.
