There is this room in my heart with ______________’s name over the door. I need help. When I’m in here I'm surrounded by festering wounds of rejection and disappointment, empty unmet expectations growing bitterness and resentment, anger and envy, sadness and discouragement. There’s even a self-pity luau raging in the corner over there.
Jesus, I need you to come in here and clean it all out. I’ve tried to do it myself, really I have. But each time I lift one thing up to throw it away anger comes growling over to remind me of how all of this stuff got here in the first place. Then I feel justified in my hurt and I can’t bring myself to toss it out.
And I’ve just got to get rid of this stuff. It stinks and the odor is beginning to permeate my whole heart. And this isn’t just my room. This is the room where ______________ lives in my heart: their guest room. I can’t have a guest room this messy and maintain a clean and honest relationship with them.
I’m sorry for treasuring the hurt and self-righteous resentment. For taking rejection and carefully displaying it, rehashing the grievance tales until it becomes permanent and insurmountable. And I was wrong to try and change ______________ when I need to be the one changing. Jesus, I’m sorry for being mad at you when Your restoration in______________’s life doesn’t look the way I wanted or even seem to include me. I confess that I’m being an envious sibling to Your prodigal child when You are wrapping them in grace that I wanted for myself. Please forgive me for all of this.
Love, Your messy girl,
linking for the first time with Jen and friends