Bedroom, July 25, 2017 3:52 a.m.
Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.
—Colossians 3:13 (NIV)
For some time now, I have this image in my head. I seem to be walking on a beautiful country road. To my left is a line of trees lightly swaying in a gentle breeze. To my right is an open field with a carpet of green grass and wildflowers. It reminds of the scene in the first Lord of the Rings movie when Frodo meets Gandalf on the outskirts of Hobbiton.
Up ahead, there is a bend in the road. I know very well that this is a path I’m destined to walk on. But blocking the way is a huge boulder sitting in the middle. I understand somehow that I needed to get past it to move forward. This boulder has a name, it’s called Unforgiveness.
Every day, I pray for God to give me strength to overcome it. Little by little, I chip away at it until it became the size of a wooden crate, small enough for me to jump over. However, I find out quickly that I couldn’t. So I continue with my labor, carving and chiseling away at the rock in front of me. After much work and prayer, it finally shrinks to the size of a soccer ball. Buoyed by my selfish pride and sense of accomplishment, an idea strikes me. I can just roll the rock to the side of the road then I can go on my merry way.
The problem is, it rolls backward, gathering bits of dirt and moss along the way until it grows back into almost the size it was before. Because of all the dirt and slippery moss on it, it’s now harder to break. So not only was my way blocked again, I am now farther away from where I started. Lord, give me strength.
Just before I was going to publish this, an incident unfolds with the object of my unforgiveness. It looks like this builder is not going away anytime soon. I tried, I really did. But I’m exhausted—physically, mentally, and spiritually, so help me God.