A couple of days ago I had a big wet blanket thrown on me. I had been away for the day on a mission of mercy so to speak and I felt quite good about the way everything turned out. I was tired but in a satisfied mood. But when I returned I was hit by an incident that let’s just say didn’t grant me any grace for the situation. Ouch!

Right away I felt myself shutting down. All the good feelings from the day of ministry were siphoned off and I felt deflated. I began to put up some defense barriers and strategize to prevent this from ever happening to me again. And you know what set in next? Did you guess it? I started to feel sorry for myself.

Well, I have a right don’t you think? Here I was trying to do good and then I was treated like this? Then of course, that led to judgment of the ones who hurt me with myself a rung up over them. So by the end of the night I crawled into bed with so much baggage it was hard to find a spot to sleep.

After struggling for several days I finally decided to hold fast to this: “Love… keeps no record of wrongs.” (1 Corinthians 13:5b) How many times has God kept no record of MY wrongs? What right do I have of recording someone else’s? That puts it into a different perspective, don’t you think? Compared to my offenses against God, these people will never catch up.