Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. Eph. 4:31-32
Dear Lord Jesus, there’s not a single day I don’t need you, but there are some moments which underscore just how much I really need you. This is just such a moment. I “bumped” into a couple of old-wound relationships in the past few days, and I now realize they are still open-wound relationships. I hoped time would be a sufficient elixir, but that’s like trusting a winter freeze to get rid of all weeds. Weeds come back in the spring. They always come back. I have weeds in my heart, Jesus.
Please help me even want to forgive, Jesus. Presently, bitterness tastes sweet (what a deceptive libation); rage feels appropriate (self-righteousness is so convincing); slander seems caring (shouldn’t others be warned?); malice has a magnetic pull (how I’d love to get even).
Have mercy on me, the sinner. Have mercy on me, the angry sinner. Have mercy on me, the avoidant sinner. Have mercy on me, the helpless sinner.
Jesus, I’m walking in enough gospel-sanity to know I really don’t want to be the wicked servant—who relishes forgiveness from you but spitefully withholds it from others (Matthew 18). I honestly don’t want that. So in this moment, all I know to do is to remember what a kind, compassionate, forgiving God you are towards me.
It’s not just my theology, but my reality—my conscious awareness, to acknowledge to you that I know myself to be just as worthy of judgment as anyone. Keep me emotionally connected with this truth, not by shaming me, but by the convicting power of the Holy Spirit. Only the truth and grace of the gospel can possibly humble me, gentle me and free me. Come, Holy Spirit, come. Bring a fresh inundation of gospel astonishment.
Jesus, your cross was and is my judgment day. When you died in my place, every foreboding warning about “the Day of the Lord” was wondrously fulfilled. There is no fear of judgment left in my heart, for your perfect love has driven that fear far from me. I cannot praise you enough.
And now, God doesn’t deal with me according to my sin or reward me according to my iniquities. He delights in me as his justified and adopted son. How dare I nurse grudges, rehearse failures (to myself and others) and plan evil in my heart? Your grace doesn’t free me to do these dark things, but to repent and walk in the light. Come, Holy Spirit, come.
Jesus, it’s going to be a lot easier for me to forgive, than to be kind and compassionate towards people who’ve hurt me. Denial and pretending are a lot easier for me than genuine loving. I’ll trust you for both. How I long for the Day when I’ll never have to repent again. So very Amen I pray, in your merciful and mighty name.
