Grudge is one of those words that defines itself. Its very sound betrays its meaning.

Say it slowly: “Grr-uuuud-ge.”

It starts with a growl. “Grr …” Like a bear with bad breath coming out of hibernation or a mangy mongrel defending his bone in an alley. “Grrr …”

Remove a GR from the word grudge and replace it with SL and you have the junk that grudge bearers trudge through. Sludge. Black, thick, ankle-deep resentment that steals the bounce from the step. No joyful skips through the meadows. No healthy hikes up the mountain. Just day after day of walking into the storm, shoulders bent against the wind, and feet dragging through all the muck life has delivered.

Is this the way you are coping with your hurts? Are you allowing your hurts to turn into hates? If so, ask yourself: Is it working? Has your hatred done you any good? Has your resentment brought you any relief, any peace? Has it granted you any joy?

Let’s say you get even. Let’s say you get him back. Let’s say she gets what she deserves. Let’s say your fantasy of fury runs its ferocious course and you return all your pain with interest. Imagine yourself standing over the corpse of the one you have hated. Will you now be free?

Revenge is bad. But the worst part of all is that, without forgiveness, bitterness is all that is left.

The state of your heart dictates whether you harbor a grudge or give grace, seek self-pity or seek Christ, drink human misery or taste God’s mercy.

No wonder, then, the wise man begs, “Above all else, guard your heart.”

David’s prayer should be ours: “Create in me a pure heart, O God.”

by Max Lucado

I was reading a daily devotional by Max Lucado and it really made me think, so I thought I would share? How are you treating your neighbor (co-worker, spouse, friend, enemy, family, etc.)?

Are you aware that this is what you are saying to your Father? Give me what I give them. Grant me the same peace I grant others. Let me enjoy the same tolerance I offer. God will treat you the way you treat others.

In any given Christian community there are two groups: those who are contagious in their joy and those who are cranky in their faith. They’ve accepted Christ and are seeking him, but their balloon has no helium. One is grateful, the other is grumpy. Both are saved. Both are heaven bound. But one sees the rainbow and the other sees the rain.

Could this principle explain the difference? Could it be that they are experiencing the same joy they have given their offenders? One says, “I forgive you,” and feels forgiven. The other says, “I’m ticked off,” and lives ticked off at the world.

It’s as if God sends you to the market to purchase your neighbor’s groceries saying, “Whatever you get your neighbor, get also for yourself. For whatever you give him is what you receive.”

Let’s take this a step further. Suppose your neighbor’s trash blows into your yard. You mention the mess to him, and he says he’ll get to it sometime next week. You inform him that you’ve got company coming and couldn’t he get out of that chair and do some work? He tells you not to be so picky, that the garbage fertilizes your garden. You’re just about to walk across the lawn to have a talk when God reminds you, “Time to go to the market and buy your neighbor’s groceries.” So you grumble and mumble your way to the store, and then it hits you, “I’ll get even with the old bum.” You go straight to the skim milk. Then you make a beeline to the anchovies and sardines. You march right past the double-chocolate ice cream and head toward the okra and rice. You make a final stop in the day-old bread section and pick up a crusty loaf with green spots on the edge.

Chuckling, you drive back to the house and drop the sack in the lap of your lazy, good-for-nothing neighbor. “Have a good dinner.” And you walk away.

All your brilliant scheming left you hungry, so you go to your refrigerator to fix a sandwich, but guess what you find. Your pantry is full of what you gave your enemy. All you have to eat is exactly what you just bought. We get what we give.

Some of you have been eating sardines for a long time. Your diet ain’t gonna change until you change. You look around at other Christians. They aren’t as sour as you are. They’re enjoying the delicacies of God, and you’re stuck with okra and anchovies on moldy bread. You’ve always wondered why they look so happy and you feel so cranky. Maybe now you know. Could it be God is giving you exactly what you’re giving someone else?

Newer Posts Older Posts Home