I Could Not Bring Myself to Write It

A Storyblocks Image

Malachi 3: 16-18:  

“¹⁶Then those who feared the Lord talked with each other, and the Lord listened and heard. A scroll of remembrance was written in his presence concerning those who feared the Lord and honored his name.

^“17They will be mine,” says the Lord Almighty, “in the day when I make up my treasured possession. I will spare them, just as in compassion a man spares his son who serves him. ¹⁶And you will again see the distinction between the righteous and the wicked, between those who serve God and those who do not.” (NIV)

I sat down this morning to write judgement on certain people who lead us on a path of destruction. Matthew quotes Jesus about them in his Gospel in the 24^th chapter, verse 4 and again in verses 10-11. I cannot even quote it. I cannot write the judgement. I am weak and I fear. I’m well aware of the hypocrisy strewn about within my person and I know that to write it is to bring the judgement upon myself. Even to think it now and avert my fingers from the task brings a level of conviction I can scarcely stand.

See how the font follows my line of thought? I love to write posts in Comic Sans because it has style and there is some part of me that enjoys the whimsy of using a font with such a name. I cannot do it here. Someone must pay.

I confess to praying judgement. I have a young friend I made at VBS who should be entering her middle school years carefree; free to be creative and funny, smart and witty, cute and sassy. She carries the burden of abuse. I’m pissed off that I didn’t see it happening and have castigated myself that I allowed it. I’ve prayed for judgement on the perpetrators and know that it will not rest upon solely one person. I remember Jesus quote in Luke 17: 1-3.

I confess to praying judgement when I read my own daughter’s ‘Me Too’ Facebook post. I railed at whomever it could have been. It was by the thinnest of margins that I held back from trashing the office where I sit to write this. I wanted my own hands round their necks, my own fists to pummel the ba-jesus out of them. I feared that I could have contributed in any way.

I am powerless in this but for one thing. Rereading our Men’s Group scripture from this past Wednesday, I was looking for one thing but found something else. A bit of hope. Some direction. And so it sits atop my post as the only scripture I’ve quoted though I’ve referred to a couple of others.

The children have it right. They gather in protest as victims of this latest mass shooting and they have it right, correct in thinking they must speak out so we’ll listen. The children brought to our country in the arms of their parents who thought it was an adventure, a trip to a better life, only to live in fear have it right and must speak up so we will listen.

And those of us who fear the Lord must listen to the children and talk with each other. The Lord will listen too. If we fear the Lord and honor his name, he will listen as we talk and wisdom will be found and we will be his.

And those who ‘listen’ and offer one thing to the children in exchange for their own hateful desires? Well, look back at Luke 17.

In fear and trembling at my own weakness but forever in His grip, 

jerry