Dying to Self

We were fighting again.

We were fighting, and the realm of Hell laughed, I am sure. Just what they wanted.

Sometimes, you can both be right. You can both have brilliant arguments, witty and biting comebacks, a fervent desire to prove to the other person your motivations are pure and legitimate.

To top it all off, a trip to the beach for relief ended up costing $50 of my hard earned money. Tires were parked on the pavement, they said.

I was so angry, righteously angry, I felt.

Then life unraveled and within the span of two days I got news of a brain tumor and a death, and I was there when the kids were told their grandpa went home to be with Jesus, and I left the room so the family could be by themselves, went down to the kitchen and sat in a chair, dry-eyed, shocked, rocking myself back and forth, back and forth.

What really matters in life? Being right?

Or being loving?

I called on my way home in the darkness. I cried and apologized to the voicemail inbox and made a decision to let go of my right to be right.

I sound so righteous and spiritual. Ha. No, my pride is still wounded, and I still think about that fight as much as the tumor and the death. The drama that is my life still selfishly demands attention.

But sometimes we have to act like the person we want to be before we can actually become them. Sometimes, our feelings must follow our feet. This is the Holy Spirit in me, for sure, because in my own strength I would rather cut down, rat out, even punch in the face.

But the Spirit reminds me that if I died tomorrow, I wouldn't want my last remembered words to be spiteful and angry. Not even righteously angry.

What really matters in life?

Being right?

God help me be loving.