Bitter steals love. It can settle on my tongue so quick until all I taste is ill-will. It infiltrates my thoughts before I notice. And with that, love is stolen.
Forgiving is hard. Let's be honest. My rights stand up big when my toes are crushed. My heart secretly insists that the pain be acknowledged and the broken mended with groveling.
But that is not how He works. That is not how He loves me. Instead He intercedes for His enemies--those hammering Him to a cross and denying His name.
He isn't weak. Or frail. Or dumb. Or delirious. He simply lives in perfect oneness with the Father. His love is not threatened by the actions of man.
I push Him away when I slather my ungrace and my unmercy all over those beside me. But who am I to demand anything?
Me. The one who has slapped my Lord in the face with disrespectful rebellion over the years. The one who adulterates my own soul with idols of this world.
My freedom call is to love. To love is to forgive. To forgive is to release others from my selfish wrath, choosing to remember the offense no more. Choosing to take each thought captive to love rather than to bitter.
Only by His grace. Only in the power of His Spirit.
Bringing it home...
Do you have a story of forgiveness?
How can we practically dig up a bitter root?
