I'm quite good at "jumping to conclusions," so I continue to need wait training. It has nothing to do with the pumping iron kind of weight training. Or calorie counting for weight control.
I tend too easily and quickly to vent my feelings. In this advanced season of my life that habit seems to be well-ingrained. I incorrectly assume that my matriarchal status gives me the right to be outspoken and give advice even when it may not be welcome or called for. I admit to times when I want to complain to someone about what that person did that didn’t please me or neglected to do something I expected. I could try to whitewash it and call it righteous indignation. That's a cover up.
Since I wrongly take for granted that I'm usually right, I'm inclined to speak my mind. However, I’m not really a confrontational person, especially not face to face. As a writer, I’d much rather send off a letter. That gives me a chance to craft my complaint, state my case logically and carefully point by point as if I were in a court of law. Snail mail is far too slow these days. With the ease of email I can spout off instantly while I'm still hot under the collar.
Oh, the trouble I’ve gotten into and the embarrassment I’ve suffered time and again by impulsively sending off a missive which turns out to be a deadly missile when it reaches its destination! The dictionary tells me that a missile is “an object or weapon that is thrown, shot, or otherwise propelled to a target.” A message I quickly send off in the heat of my emotions, especially with a backdrop of perception before I have all the facts, can be more lethal than a hand grenade. It has the potential to mortally wound a friendship or a relationship. It isn't a guided missile, since I had not waited patiently to be guided by the Lord before I sent it.
I've been in God's wait training most of my life in respect to my venting-and-sending written words too soon or speaking words prematurely. The latter are even more damaging because they are spontaneous and I can't retract them. In Proverbs I read, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue.” And “Like apples of gold in settings of silver is a word spoken [by inference, written] in right circumstances.” In the book of James the writer warns, “The tongue is a restless evil and full of deadly poison. With it we bless our Lord and Father; and with it we curse men…from the same mouth come both blessing and cursing.”
I'm not advocating bottling up my emotions; totally suppressing them has pressure-cooker dangers. In the Psalms, David gave us a preemptive example to follow: “I will pour out my complaint before God; I declare my trouble before Him.” Ah, now we’re getting to the heart of the matter. Vent is a perfectly good four letter word, but wait is its healthy counterpart.
Through long years of experience in making mistakes speaking or writing something hastily or rashly, I’ve found what works for me. Sometimes I still come dangerously close to transgressing again. An occasion arose when I was really miffed. I felt that I had every right to complain to someone about an unfair situation that involved my feelings. I sat down at my sometimes overly user-friendly computer, and set about discharging my feelings through my fingers on the keyboard with the full intention of sending off the email immediately.
I rapidly wrote two steamy pages. I spell-checked, outlined my points, underlined, cap-lettered for emphasis, and edited it several times until I was satisfied I had written convincingly and presented my case flawlessly. Let the chips fall where they may—that person deserved every sentence. I sat back and blew out my breath. Well, let it fly!
Somehow I was held back from clicking SEND. An unseen but clearly felt hand seemed to restrain me. Perhaps my Guardian Angel? (He/she/it is probably exhausted and frustrated with their incredibly long and arduous life assignment of keeping me in line or bringing me to my senses.)
“Wait!” There was no mistaking the impression. “Be patient. Click SAVE instead.” Okay, I guess I could send it out after lunch.
“That’s not all—pray for her. And pour out your complaint before God.”
Reluctantly, I obeyed. I even waited one day, two days. The emotional fire in my furnace began to cool.
On the third day I got a surprise. My target person emailed me! With caring and warmth she laid out an entirely different scenario for the situation that precipitated my boiler eruption—and apologized. I had misunderstood, jumped to conclusions. I tried reading between the lines when nothing was there to read. I came close to losing a precious and holy relationship through my impulsiveness.
I need venting to relieve my emotional pressure; holding in my feelings isn't healthy. Writing down my feelings is a good outlet, an escape valve—as long as I don’t send the missive immediately. I can complain—if I do it to God alone. Waiting awhile is always wise.
O Lord, please don’t give up on me. Keep me in your wait training class for as long as I need it. And reward my Guardian Angel with an extra slice of ANGEL FOOD cake for a coffee break at a celestial STARbucks.” Time and again my Heavenly Messenger has gently or firmly, whichever necessary, snapped on spiritual handcuffs to keep me from doing or saying something that could be more serious than egg on my face.
Not too late!
Orders are being sent out already to those who are taking advantage of the discount price $12 plus postage during June of my recent book SAGE BRUSHINGS from which I am taking excerpt posts throughout June like the one above. Order through BOOKSTORE on this website or email me: [email protected]
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