Obedience

I'd wager that each of us, growing up, fantasizes about the freedom of adulthood; I did. When I'm grown, I promised myself, no one will ever tell me what to do again.

Here I am, almost forty, and I find I've got more people trying to tell me what to do than ever. I find, too: I don't handle it well.

One of my middle-school teachers (the most ruthless paddler on the hall) told me to stop biting my nails, once. I blinked against the red spots and, leaning forward, said in a shaky voice: "They're my nails, and I'll bite them if I feel like it." He never said another word about it; we both knew he didn't want my daddy after him.

Looking back, I know it was a decent place to be, under my daddy's roof and authority. He wasn't (isn't) perfect, but he cared about right and wrong. He told me: if he found out I'd done wrong at school, he'd whip me at home, but if I was wronged at school or anywhere else, he'd have my back. He was and is an intimidating sort; I walked a fairly straight line, back then, but didn't worry about bullies in any form. 

I worry about bullies a great deal, as an adult, and I have this desire to call them out: to say, over and over, I saw (heard, read) that, and it was hurtful. It hurt. It hurt me, or it hurt someone else, and I refuse to pretend it's okay or didn't happen; I don't care who you are. I don't care how believable your sheep's clothing.

"You start a lot of shit," my husband said, and his words stung.

"I don't," I said. "I respond to a lot of shit."

"You make things worse," he said. 

And he's right. My spiritual gift is mercy, and I see myself as painfully honest: a defender, an avenger, a voice for those judged, cornered, pressured, bullied, overpowered, and/or overwhelmed, but--if I'm painfully honest with myself (for a change)--I can't think of a time I've gotten the response I've sought, which has always been: "I'm sorry I hurt you or someone else." 

I don't know how to let things roll off my back. I don't know how to refrain from speaking out, and I don't know how to speak out effectively, so I'm trying to ignore the repeat offenders. I haven't "unfriended" any of my facebook friends, but I've stopped "following" a lot of them. I've also stopped visiting the blogs of those whose words I find discouraging, hurtful, or offensive.

I love the Lord and seek to obey Him: HIM, not Him according to other people. Experience has taught me: those who have my best interest at heart will encourage me to seek His face, not try to tell me what His face looks like. (Both my husband and my pastor have my best interest at heart; I'm blessed.)

I like what Euripedes wrote: "Question everything. Learn something. Answer nothing." I also like what Jesus said: "Seek, and ye shall find" (Matthew 7:7). I trust God and know I can go straight to the source of Him and His Word. I hope you know the same: that you walk freely in Christ, that you are free.

Ignore

My one word for 2013 was peace, and I hold myself responsible for failing to achieve it, and the means by which I most allowed its disruption was probably facebook but possibly the blogosphere. I guess when it comes right down to it, I've lacked the intelligence, the discipline, or both to solve the problem up to this point, but I'm working on it, and I'm thinking that admitting I have a problem is the first step in my solving it.

Truth is, I can't handle some of the things people share. Truth is, I have long, drawn-out arguments with people in my mind. Truth is, I allow the words of other people to provoke and anger me.

My problem with people's words--no matter what they say--is just that: my problem, and I'm the only person who can solve my problem. As of this very moment, I pledge: when I feel angry over someone's words, I'm not going to respond with words; I'm going to respond by unfollowing that person on facebook or in the blogosphere. Then I'm going to dedicate whatever new head space I have to the Lord and the people right in front of me.

My word for 2014: ignore.

I feel happier already.