A Grinch's Prayer

As ashamed as I am to admit it, the Grinch and I share a similar past.

Not in the... "I hate Christmas, so I'll steal gifts and trees and lights and happiness right out from under everyone on Christmas Eve" way.

No.  Not at all.  Because, unlike the Grinch, I really, really love Christmas.

Instead, it was more on the lines of..."I think the most likely reason of all…may have been that his heart was two sizes too small.”

In past Christmases, I remember the internal struggle I had whenever I heard that description to explain the Grinch's personality and the reason for his less-than-acceptable behavior.

Maybe that was me, too.

Given any personality test in years past, I'd score high on thinking, low on feeling.  High on analyzing and judgment.  Low on sympathy and mercy.

I rarely cried and was rarely moved to tears by others' situations and suffering.  I cared.  At least I thought.  At least I tried.  But in truth, more often than not, I turned my head, closed my eyes, or pretended not to hear the cries of the needy and the most vulnerable.

And though I'd never considered myself a taker, I'd never described myself as a giver either.  It's not that I was opposed to giving or that I hadn't given or that I didn't give. 

I had.  I did.

It's just that giving didn't seem to overflow naturally from me like it did from so many others I knew.

The hard reality:  I needed some supernatural help with my seemingly small heart.  The heart defect had to go.  My heart needed to grow.

So I prayed.  One simple prayer.  One very short, life-altering prayer. 

(I feel the need to offer a word of caution here.  You may not want to pray this prayer unless you really, seriously...like really, seriously mean it.  Consider yourself warned.)

"Lord, break my heart for what breaks yours."

 

What breaks the heart of God?  Here's my short list:

The lost.  The vulnerable.  The oppressed.  The captive.  The lonely.  The needy.  The helpless.  The poor.  The sick.  The persecuted.  The wounded.  The widow.  The orphan.

That one prayer changed my whole perspective on God and others.  No longer can I sit back and watch, content to stay within my own world, doing my own thing, for my own pleasure. 

No longer can I look at the needs, both here and there, and think, "There are just so many. I'm only one person so I won't be able to do much." 

Instead, I need to help.  I want to bless.  I'm compelled to give.  Something.  Anything.  Not sparingly, but generously.  Not under compulsion, but from a full heart.  A heart which has been given so much.

Weeks ago, I wrote down a specific list of giving opportunities I was aware of this holiday season.  Knowing it was not possible for our family to give to all of them, I narrowed the list to several things/people/ministries which resonated both with us and the heart of God.  And we focused our giving to that list.

And with each giving opportunity, I'm learning a valuable lesson.  Giving takes practice.  Lots of it.  Like learning to play a musical instrument or a new sport, giving is a skill.  The more you do it, the better you become at doing it. 

I'm grateful for these opportunities.  They have given me the chance to put into practice what I'm learning.

In 2 Corinthians 8:7, the apostle Paul said,

"See also that you excel in this grace of giving."

 

Paul knew that left on our own, we will hoard.  We will keep instead of give.  We will continue to store up temporary trinkets for ourselves.  But because God has been so incredibly generous to us, He calls us to store up eternal treasures on behalf of others and for His name's sake instead. 

 

Clinching closed fists less.  Extending open palms more.  

Not to receive, but to give.  Because the more I try to hold on to my life or my stuff, the more I lose it. The more I let go, the more I gain.

Including a bigger, growing heart.  A more generous heart.  A heart that breaks for what breaks His.

(To all my friends and family who possess such giving hearts, thank you. 

I have learned much from your example.)

 

Unoffendable

 

My husband scanned the crowded lot for a parking space close to the store front.  He spotted a lady walking to her car, getting ready to leave. As any mature driver would, he paused, turned on his blinker and waited until she backed out so he could make the left turn in. 

Just as she was exiting the parking space, another car approached from the opposite direction.  The young, inexperienced driver drove up, completely oblivious to us waiting patiently in front of her, and selfishly hooked her car into the spot.

Honking the horn several times in an attempt to get her attention, my husband rolled down his window.  The girl was unfazed as she pulled in and turned off her ignition. 

"Oh no, she didn't." 

Neither of us could believe this driver's audacity.  She blatantly ignored us.  Without hesitation, she took what was rightfully ours.

We found that space first.  We had our blinker on.  We were following the rules of the road.

As we waited for her to get out of her car, our own girls' rapid-fire questions began. 

"What just happened?  Why did she do that?"  Etc.  Etc.  Etc.

After what seemed like an eternity, our challenger finally emerged from her car. 

Leaning out his window, my husband informed her, "Excuse me, but we were waiting for that spot.  Did you not see us sitting here with our blinker on?"

Her unapologetic and curt reply: "Nope.  Guess I didn't."

And with that, she smugly turned around and stepped onto the sidewalk.

Miffed, my husband started to drive off until I said, "Stop the car.  I'm getting out.  Right here."

I'm not exactly sure what I was going to do when I crossed in front of our car and headed in her direction.  I'm not exactly sure what I thought I was going to say when I caught up with her, but I knew a confrontation was in order.

After all, as a thirty-eight year old Mama and educator, I had an obligation to teach Miss Thang a lesson in parking lot etiquette, something she apparently had yet to learn.

Determined to give her the "what for and the why not", I followed her along the sidewalk.  She turned to look over her shoulder a couple of times and then dodged into one of the retail stores in the strip mall. 

Should I follow her in?  If so, what do I say?  Or...do I turn around and back off?

With my hand nearly on the door handle of the store she just entered, I found myself faced with those two options.

Reluctantly, I chose to stop.  I turned around and walked into another store to cool off. 

As I stepped inside, I could feel the heat radiating through me.  What was I about to do?  Stalk a young girl?  Who was I about to become?  The crazed shopper who could've easily been filmed on a smart phone and turned into the latest You Tube holiday sensation?  Seriously?

As I regained clarity, I heard One Voice in my mind, "Why are you so offended? Bless those who persecute. Bless and do not curse." (see Romans 12:14)

They were the exact same words and life lessons my girls and I had been discussing the past month during our Bible and prayer time.  Bless.  Pray.  Turn the other cheek.  Don't be so easily offended.

I'll be honest.  In no way did I feel like blessing this young lady.  Not. At. All. 

No, because of this injustice, I'm ashamed to admit I felt like blessing her out instead.

But thankfully my Father intervened.  And in that moment, He renewed my mind. My spirit became willing even though my flesh was still struggling.

What story did I want to convey to my own girls when I returned to the car?  Did I want them to see a Mama who huffs and puffs and chooses to retaliate at the first sign of offense?  No.  I did not.

Technically, I know this girl didn't break a law.  But she did break the southern law of kindness while driving in a parking lot.  How should I respond?  As a child of God, I'm called to open my mouth and speak with wisdom.  On my tongue should be the law of kindness, not revenge (see Proverbs 31:26).

Looking back, I am so grateful for God's gentle whisper to get my attention.  I am so glad He stopped me from stumbling and kept me from further harm--to myself, to the young girl and to my witness with my own daughters and the rest of the Christmas shoppers. 

I am glad my husband and I were the ones she wronged.  If it had been anyone else on any other day, she may have left her shopping venture with four flat tires or a nice, long key mark on the side of her car.  :)

"Great peace have they who love your law;

nothing shall offend them or make them stumble."

Psalm 119:165 (Amplified)

How do you handle this world of offenses? Are you easily offended at the slightest injustice?  If so, let's pray to choose humility over pride. Kindness over woundedness.  Mercy over offense. 

By the power of the Holy Spirit, let's live unoffendable lives.

"Lord, grant me that new creation heart that can walk as Jesus walked, through a world of offenses without stumbling.  I want to see everything as an opportunity to pray, everything as an opportunity to become Christlike.  Lord, help me interpret offenses as opportunities that lead to transformations.  Grant me, Lord Jesus, the pulse and beat of Your unoffendable heart. Amen." ~ Pastor, Francis Frangipane

A New Mercy Morning

Whew.  I am SO glad it's a new day.  Especially after yesterday.

Too much fussing.  Too much whining.  Too many harsh words. 

Not enough gentleness.  Not enough patience.  Not enough mercy.

And surprisingly, this has little to do with the girls.

During my (most-necessary) time of prayer this morning, I repeated these promises in Lamentations 3:22-23.

Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed,
Because His compassions fail not.
They are new every morning...

Thank. You. God.

I told the Lord how much I appreciated and needed His new mercies today because I felt consumed.  With my behavior and with guilt. 

I knew the "law of kindness" rarely graced my tongue yesterday. 
I knew that I'd gone all "loco" when an entire container of vanilla yogurt was spilled on the carpet. 
I knew I'd been less than patient when we were still doing school at five o'clock in the afternoon.  Yes. Really.

In the midst of expressing my desperate need for His new mercies today, I couldn't help but think of my daughters' desperate need for my new mercies today, as well. 

Just as I am completely and totally dependent on second chance  moments, they are too.  From Him and from their mama.

Because of the Lord's great love, I can extend a second, third, or even a hundredth chance to myself and most especially, to my little ones.  And I will.  Starting now.  This morning.

I can grace as I've been graced.

Another new mercy morning.  Thank you, Lord.

(And since You know I'm going to need another one tomorrow, I will go ahead and thank You for that one, too.  And for the next one, and the next and the next...)