Yesterday morning a thought ran through my mind as I was showering and getting ready for church. I thought about my brother and wondered if I should write him a letter apologizing for all the things I ever did wrong to him growing up. I always wanted to sit in the “deep” end of the bath tub because I was “bigger.” I always wanted the bigger piece of cake because I was “bigger.” I wanted the later bedtime (half an hour later than his). I was selfish. I was a brat. I wondered if I should apologize for these things. It is interesting that the subject of apologies came up later in the day. But I shouldn’t be surprised. I really should pay more attention to the thoughts that come through my mind and why they have been brought up. Sometimes they are not “random” and they are not “mine,” and they serve to show me what the rest of the day is going to be like.
Since I have been saved I have kind of viewed the things of my childhood like you came to understand the things you stole from the Sam’s Club before you were saved. You had been set free from them and you had peace about not having to go back and pay for everything you’d ever taken. I thought that the person I was as a child was dead, long gone, and I didn’t have to dwell on the way things used to be because I have been made new in Christ. I no longer think I deserve the biggest piece of cake or things to always be the way I want them to be, ignoring all others. I really don’t.
Maybe this is why I identify so much with Eustace from Narnia’s Voyage of the Dawn Treader (more on how I got to this thought later…). The book begins, “There was a boy named Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.” It is funny because “Eustace” sounds like “useless” and a “scrub” is someone who is useless, and Eustace was a spoiled brat who never wanted to do any work and had no friends and was utterly useless at the beginning of the book. He complained about everything, and eventually his self-seeking got him turned into a dragon. In the end it was an encounter with Aslan that turned him back into a boy and changed his heart. But in the book Aslan did not merely scratch the sand to take away Eustace’s scales like he did in the movie. In the book he scratched off his very flesh. The scales came off because Aslan removed them himself, and Eustace was made a humbly new person. I feel like God has done this in my life.
I’ve always felt like the friendless, spoiled Eustace. I have walked around and walked into any room with the assumption that no one really likes me. No one really cares about me. Everyone thinks I’m a loser and I’m annoying. Everyone always picks on me. I used to think that being bullied was the other person’s fault, but now I think that maybe I really was that horrible of a child that no one liked me based on my own poor character.
But now I have been made new. Yet I still have found myself walking around with the assumption that no one really “likes” me. It seems to be subconscious, but every now and again it comes to the surface. For example, when we went over to the mission and saw Rhonda the other week, she gave me a hug and I thought, “Wow, Rhonda really does care about me.” This thought surprised me.
Anyways, my purpose is not to go down some road of self-pity. I didn’t set out to say that. My point is that I have been guilty of being a horrible person with nothing but selfish motive. I never really learned how to love or be loved. Although I have been made new and the Lord has remade my heart, I sometimes run into the residue of my old life and my old assumptions.
I need the Lord God to remove the scales that still exist in my heart. I need to receive a softer heart.
Which leads me to why I got thinking about Eustace. I read today’s Slice of Infinity, and it mentioned a scene from another Narnia book, The Silver Chair. Eustace’s friend Jill ends up in Narnia with him. I don’t remember, but I don’t think she believed in Aslan in the beginning. The scene is that she is dying of thirst. She comes to a stream, but she is scared to drink of it because Aslan is standing next to it. Aslan tells her to come and drink, but she refuses. She says, “I will find another stream then.” Aslan tells her there is no other stream.
Another thought came to mind yesterday, this one as we were worshipping. I thought about mountaintop experiences and how I longed for one. I thought about how I felt I had been wandering in the desert for a long time. When in the desert I often think about how it is still the pillar of fire and the pillar of cloud that is the glory of God that leads me though those times. If I do nothing but follow those, even if I remain in the desert it is okay because the Lord is leading me. Even if I never reach the land. Yet I always know that there is a Promised Land. It had been promised, and so I hoped. The week of our first service I said that I felt like Caleb entering into the Promised Land. Yesterday I was remembering all this, and thinking about the mountaintop, and the thought came to me that there was no mountaintop experience for the Israelites entering the land. Moses went up to the mountaintop and died, but the Israelites went straight into battle. Now is the time of battle. There is no time now to rest or seek any “retreat” (it is interesting that time away is called a retreat). Now is the time to fight.
And so I find myself thirsty, and knowing that the Lord Jesus Christ is the only living water. I find myself wondering what a proper apology looks like (sad, I know, because you’d think I’d already be an expert at apologizing…). I remember the verse that says, “Love keeps no record of wrongs,” and I think this is why I can move on with life even when I feel like someone has wronged me and I know that I cannot sit back and wait an apology. I would be paralyzed if I kept a record and refused to move until someone apologizes to me.
But you’re right. We should never just move on and act like nothing is wrong. Overlooking an offence against myself is not the same thing as overlooking an offence I have committed. “As much as it is up to you, be at peace with everyone.” I can make peace even if no one else does the same.
So here is the conclusion of my thoughts…
I am sorry for everything I ever did prior to becoming a Christian, especially my selfish pride. I am sorry that you have had to put up with the residue of this. I am sorry for every time I have not apologized for doing wrong. I am sorry for fighting with Cynthia over the camera and fighting with Bianca over the computer. I am sorry for ever saying that it was too exhausting or not worth it to do everything possible to make peace. I’m really sorry that I ever said that. I’m sorry that I’ve given Satan a foothold in this house and that I have allowed the root of bitterness to grow up. I’m sorry that I don’t pray long enough or hard enough. I have not been obedient to praying for an hour a day, and I have no asked for clarity about what that looks like. I have clung selfishly to “my time” and neglected to see that no time belongs to me at all. I have been lazy in the house and have lacked diligence in keeping things clean. I have been too proud to ask for help, and when I’ve asked for help I have complained about the help I have been given instead of giving thanks. When asking for help I have complained about the lack of help. When talking to you about something that’s wrong I’ve complained about things instead of being clear with you about the issue at hand or making sure that you know I am not trying to complain or attack an individual. I have been a poor example of reconciliation and a poor example of how to deal with a problem when there is a problem that needs to be addressed. The truth is that I really don’t know what healthy conflict resolution looks like.
I have the weed of a critical spirit wrapped so tightly around myself that I don’t know how to get rid of it. I allowed the root to grow. I remember once you told me I would have to denounce my critical spirit. I am at that place where it has taken over. I need to be free from it and I denounce it now in Jesus’ name.
Please forgive me for failing to be a good wife and a good mother to the children I have been entrusted with. I love Michael and Ciara and Monique and Jane and Joshua and Elizabeth, and you Rigo, and I have not done enough to show it. I have had a horrible attitude and I am sorry.
Please forgive me for my sin towards you and the children. I beg for mercy.
Yours truly
