Quite a few years ago when I was new to the world of blogging, I got in really big trouble for a post I published entitled “Big.” It was about big behaviors in small churches and small behaviors in large churches. Mostly it focused on a wonderful 100th anniversary celebration we had just attended for a very small church and I was blown away by its history and many participants. The other side of the coin, the big churches, was where I got into hot water. The written phraseology was completely vague — no names, locations, or particular situations were listed — but boy howdy did somebody ever see themselves in my words. Yeeikes. Calls of complaint were made by a couple people of unexplainable influence and a reprimand ensued. Can’t imagine why. Apparently a pastor’s wife’s blog is not the place to “call ’em like you see ’em” without thinking it through once or twice. Even if you really really want to.

I’m old enough to know better. (Especially now!) I should’ve mentally visited all the paths my words could take people’s imaginings, even if they were not intended to do so. I should’ve thought it through more thoroughly instead of coasting along blissfully throwing words on a page. It was dumb. And I paid the price. Still am paying it somewhat. That’s one way we learn lessons though, isn’t it? The hard way.

I lost people over that. I guess they lost me too.

Years later, these are uniquely challenging days. I’ve been around a block or two both chronologically and experientially, which has racked up some understanding of rough pathways full of trip hazards and how individuals’ personal journeys turn them into who they are. That being said, I’m still not the the most well-balanced walker in the race when it comes to interpersonal relationships and handling their delicate nuances. Nope. I admit that.

People (at least a lot of people in my circle, both in reality and in the very “un” reality of social media and the news feeds) are on edge. We’re tripping all over each other and are not in the mood to be manipulated or joked with or hammered with Joe Schmoe’s opinions. The constant drip, drip, drip of the same old stuff is exhausting everyone. The daily, “What I’ve got to say far outweighs anything you’ve got to say both in importance and in ultimate truth.” It’s torturous.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“If I say it louder or on repeat or with violence or abhorrent behavior, then, THEN, you will come around to my side.”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I’m getting either tougher or softer in my old age. I want to throttle everybody into submission and make them behave, but at the same time retreat to my home, stir up a pot of soup, do needlework, and hum a little tune. It’s exhausting.

Well, dear ones, I’m not here to throttle or to cast aspersions or to make anybody mad (again). A good number of you whom I call dear to my heart do not share my faith. And I love you. All I can do is tell you where the “hard way” has taken this old gal and how grateful she is for it. She has simmered down. I have no plans to lose my cool and weaponize my words because my perspective is focused elsewhere. Honestly, I don’t know how anyone gets through the day without looking to the eastern sky in anticipation. It saddens my soul to its depths to read or hear words from those who share my perspective (do we really share the same one?) who berate others, or complain, or hammer on about the same old church arguments that everyone is so very tired of hearing. Well, at least I know I am.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

I laid away for two hours in the night after reading just one sentence on social media at 2 a.m. Such a mistake to pick up the phone at that hour. Don’t do it.

Here’s what I know. Every one of us in this world wakes up each day with choices. Choices are not the same as opportunity. Vast chasms separate us in how opportunities are presented to us in the areas of physical and political freedom, food security, health care, housing, and practicing religion. That’s a sad fact that will remain as long as this world has breath. No, I’m speaking of choices we make in our spirits. Our minds. Our souls.

Freedom is available, dear one. For your spirit. For your mind. For your soul.

For he has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son he loves Colossians 1:13

It’s possible to change your perspective, friends. You can find relief. Your prison cell can transform. You may be traveling a hard way. A HARD way. Maybe you are truly persecuted. There is freedom for your soul if not your body. The physical bars can remain and seem different if you’re free of your spiritual prison.

Or if we look at your freedom in a different way, maybe your words or attitude have harmed others and you can’t seem to give up the constant dripping spirit of complaint and negativity. Good news! There is forgiveness. True, honest-to-goodness forgiveness. Those oppressive bars can also vanish. And wouldn’t that be a relief? Truly life changing.

Trust me. Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Even if your walk is hard.

Check out that eastern sky.

Be nice, folks. Be careful with your words. I might accidentally see them in the middle of the night and pick up my computer. Hope I’m not in trouble again.

Much love,

MM