of gentleness... and anvils
I've always wished I was one of those "soft" people.
Not weak, of course. But tender. With no rough edges. The kind of person whose presence makes you feel calm. The kind of soft that responds carefully and with compassion, rather than jumping to judgement and self-righteousness and a "my way is right" way of thinking. Without defense and thought of how it all affects me, but considers what else might be going on in the situation.
A very soft person has come into my life recently. I'm in awe of her. She responds to everything in love. She is always concerned for me and how I am adjusting to a whole new life. She is ready to jump in and help whenever it's needed, and often anticipates needs I could never foresee. When a difficult situation arises, she has this way of making it all better without compromise for what is best.
She is modeling to me the great fruit of the spirit: gentleness.
I've far too often felt like a bull in a china shop. Stumbling over people with my agenda. Running wild and free with a grand plan ignoring everyone else's. And any warning signs along the way. My clumsiness has gotten me in trouble so many times, I'm not sure numbers go high enough to count.
But also isn't even about "getting into trouble," honestly. That would be as if I just didn't want to get caught in my sin, rather than actually not want to sin... to be changed from the inside out. To not "appear" like this bull is like the Pharisees with their shiny and polished cups on the outside. To actually not be the bull is to have a fully clean cup.
Matthew 23: 25-26
For years, I've tried so hard to be the gentle and wise person on the outside (with varying degrees of success.) I make so much of trying to appear soft, that I think if I fix that part, the actually being soft will follow. It's just like trying to glue the fruit onto the branch. So I know, deep down in my heart that I am going the wrong direction... so why do I keep going back to doing instead of learning about the being? For the task is so much easier for me to understand and grasp then the abstract idea of being present and considering everything holistically.
Deep-seeded in this sin of mine, and it may even be that all-important root (i.e.the idol, not just the surface sin) is self-righteousness. It's a very strange thing knowing that I have a very low self-esteem, but realizing one of greatest sins I struggle with is self-righteousness. But it makes sense. I'm
simply looking for other ways to make myself feel better, and I am looking externally for those things. How I appear to the world is one of the ways I do that. And believing I know better than so many others is my sick and twisted way of trying to feel better about myself, forgetting how this causes me to view others as less than.
I don't know how to be gentle. Maybe I never will. But I guess I can take some solace in the anvil. Knowing that I am being reshaped and formed into God's image. An instrument is only useful if it's the right shape for the task set before it. If I'm on the anvil, it means God still see me as worth reshaping.
Not weak, of course. But tender. With no rough edges. The kind of person whose presence makes you feel calm. The kind of soft that responds carefully and with compassion, rather than jumping to judgement and self-righteousness and a "my way is right" way of thinking. Without defense and thought of how it all affects me, but considers what else might be going on in the situation.
A very soft person has come into my life recently. I'm in awe of her. She responds to everything in love. She is always concerned for me and how I am adjusting to a whole new life. She is ready to jump in and help whenever it's needed, and often anticipates needs I could never foresee. When a difficult situation arises, she has this way of making it all better without compromise for what is best.
She is modeling to me the great fruit of the spirit: gentleness.
I've far too often felt like a bull in a china shop. Stumbling over people with my agenda. Running wild and free with a grand plan ignoring everyone else's. And any warning signs along the way. My clumsiness has gotten me in trouble so many times, I'm not sure numbers go high enough to count.But also isn't even about "getting into trouble," honestly. That would be as if I just didn't want to get caught in my sin, rather than actually not want to sin... to be changed from the inside out. To not "appear" like this bull is like the Pharisees with their shiny and polished cups on the outside. To actually not be the bull is to have a fully clean cup.
Matthew 23: 25-26
Deep-seeded in this sin of mine, and it may even be that all-important root (i.e.the idol, not just the surface sin) is self-righteousness. It's a very strange thing knowing that I have a very low self-esteem, but realizing one of greatest sins I struggle with is self-righteousness. But it makes sense. I'm
I don't know how to be gentle. Maybe I never will. But I guess I can take some solace in the anvil. Knowing that I am being reshaped and formed into God's image. An instrument is only useful if it's the right shape for the task set before it. If I'm on the anvil, it means God still see me as worth reshaping.
Comments
Years ago I began to understand that being right is not the same as being righteous. One can be absolutely right and yet be absolutely unrighteous. Like the Pharisees we can narcissistically embrace the truth with no concern for how we communicate that truth. In reality (this is a generalization) our main, and in some sense only, truth is love. To be righteous we must be loving.
Alas, methinks I have begun to rant.