My husband was perilously unmoved by the fact. He disregarded both the logic and passion of my argument and unceremoniously turned off the light and within seconds (this is no exaggeration for the sake of affect) he was asleep!
I sat up in bed stunned, shocked, like someone just threw cold water in my face. If I were a cartoon, steam would've been coming out of my ears. I was trembling, and had developed an odd tick at the corner of my eye that coincided with my husband's pattern of snoring.
"What is happening here?" I asked myself. "How could he be so comfortably wrong and I so miserably right?"
I was determined not to let the matter drop. He thought to avoid me with sleep...well if he was lucky he'd wake in the morning and we'd draw swords again. I would have my pound of flesh! I would have the satisfaction of his recantation or die trying.
I curled my tense body up under the covers, turned my back to the offender and shut my eyes in an effort to sleep. I was only a few breaths into my rest when the Still, Small voice said, "Don't let the sun go down on your anger."
My eyes flew open. I looked past the ceiling into the throne room and said, "Really? You've got to be kidding me! You know I'm right!"
I explained to God that I could not possibly reconcile with hubby because he was asleep and therefore could not admit his error and so abate my wrath. I had no choice but to let the sun go down.
My protests were met with the Presence of Silence. Years of walking with God have taught me that this Silence is not the end of the discussion. It's the kind of silence your mother gives you when she's told you to do something and you give her a smart reply. Mothers have a way of answering a smart reply with a quiet look meant to communicate, "you know what I mean and if I have to explain it to you again you'll wish I didn't."
Both the look and the silence are a means of grace....a space for submission before it gets worse. The best practice in times like these is a quick change of attitude. This way you avoid learning lessons the hard way. I'm not a fan of learning the hard way with God, or mom. My attitude softened a tenth of a percent as I acknowledged God's instruction.
Though in true Petrine fashion I wanted to whine, "what about him?" obedience demanded that I release the iron grip on my fury and set it free without the satisfaction of an apology. Of course, without the anesthetic of anger I was left with the raw, gaping wound and all its accompanying pain. I couldn't go to sleep without some sort of triage. So I began to think.
I came up with several solutions to the problem which I felt would make both Oprah and Dr. Phil proud. However, as I ran them each by the Holy Spirit they were shot down like skeet. It seems that each idea violated one or another of the verses in the "Love Chapter" a.k.a. 1 Corinthians 13. When I saw my last (and best) idea rain down in pieces from the sky as the Holy Spirit whisphered, "Love doesn't do that..." I reached the end of my rope.
"Well it seems to me that "Love" just gets kicked in the teeth!" I exclaimed in frustration to the Lord.
I felt Him smile as He replied, "Welcome to the cross."
And there it was. No wonder it hurt so bad, no wonder I was trying to avoid it....it was the cross. Here is the place where right and wrong meet in titanic clash. We may instantly be drawn to the glorious truth that right prevails, but let's not forget the details of how right prevails. It is only after being crucified in weakness that Right is resurrected with power.
In my argument with my husband I was seeking the power of the resurrection without the weakness and death of the cross. This was not the way of Jesus, and as I had signed on to be a disciple, He felt the need to school me on the matter. It would begin for me the way it did for Him; with humility.
To stop and consider how humble our Lord is boggles the mind. There is no end to His humility. Every act of love ever bestowed upon us from heaven was bathed in this amazing characteristic: that the One who was right, the one who was strongest, the One with the most power, the One with the most riches, the One with the best argument became a servant to the weak, wrong, stubborn, illogical, poor ones. To have a relationship with us even today is a constant act of humility on His part...one He enjoys.
I have come to realize that when it comes to friendships, marriages, children, aquaintances, the fellowship of Christians, and even with enemies there is a danger in being "right." Being "right" is a heady, powerful thing. It puffs up the soul with pride immediately. In such a state we are easily convinced that because we are "right" God is with us and that it is imperative that "right" (meaning "us") prevail. We are sure God is about results, so we fight. The right result = a happy God...a God who is on my side.
God, of course, is not just results oriented; He's also people oriented. People are not results; they are much more complex. Being right matters immensely with God, but if it were all that mattered to Him we'd still be in our sins. There is much more to the heart of God than right and wrong. Jesus painted this picture in vivid crimson color.
In His holiness Jesus shows us what is right. In His humility, gentleness, mercy and kindness He shows us how to be right. Trying to be right without those qualities is only an attempt to avoid the cross. Avoiding the cross is easier and much more attractive, and arguably more effective by the world's standards. But no Christian should be caught living without fresh scars.
So being "right" nine years ago meant silent forgiveness from the heart. There would be no lists, nor recriminations or revisitation on the matter. The dawn would bring new mercies, true mercies; I would be the one to say "I'm sorry;" Not for being wrong, but for not knowing how to be right.
"Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus: Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross." (Phillipians 2:5-8, KJV).
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