This morning I woke up early and was torn between the calling of more sleep and the calling of a quiet hour.
Quiet before the giggles of grand babies. Quiet before the weird and disturbing sounds of Coulter talking to himself playing night fort . Quiet before you-tube.
Jesus, take the slime.
Quiet before dogs and arguments and hurts and joys.
And garage sales. I’m on a super-secret (not that secret) mission that involves garage sales.
I chose quiet.
I opened my Bible to Isaiah. I love Isaiah because God goes to battle for us. Isaiah reminds us that God goes before us and he’s also our rear God.
Right? He’s got our back.
And I will readily admit, since the hurts of my marriage and divorce, I too often find myself ready for battle.
The verse that jumped off the page (primarily because I’ve underlined it) is “For I will contend with those who contend with you.”
Uhm, yes please.
You know Coulter as my son’s name. It’s also our family name. I come from a long line of strong-willed, well-spoken, intelligent Coulter women.
Combine that with what we call the “Hale temper” and well—
I have trouble remembering that the Lord will contend with those who contend with me.
Blaming my hot temper on my family may seem unfair and perhaps like I’m not taking responsibility for my own actions, but, ya know, I’m OK with that.
Yesterday, someone that I once considered a friend posted something I deemed as tasteless and rude and hurtful on Facebook. So, whatever, I did the only thing a respectable Hale-Coulter woman could do.
Simply and sarcastically, I wrote.
I also cancelled the business we have with them.
And I may have a hot temper, but I’m no hypocrite. When I called to cancel, I gave my name and said, quite professionally,
“If you’re going to be so ugly to me on Facebook, I’m taking my water business elsewhere.”
Jesus, help me.
It turned into the whole thing and I let other people steal my joy for a whole day.
Ready for a Facebook feud, someone jumped on the feed and posted the definition of the word classy, as if I were somehow unaware of what classy meant.
She also referred to me as someone claiming to be “such Christian folk.”
So folksy we are here in Nebraska.
And this is where we miss it.
Being a Christian means I have a savior.
I have a savior because I NEED a savior.
We make mistakes. We over react. We lose our temper. We are too sensitive. We doubt. We believe.
We say, “Jesus, I believe, help my unbelief.”
I don’t claim to be Christian folk because I don’t use the word folk.
The 27:17 of our training studio comes from Proverbs 27:17. “Just as iron sharpens iron, so man sharpens man.”
Iron is not soft. And this sharpening and this transforming and this being made new is not easy work and I get it wrong.
But Christian, yes. Lover of Jesus, yes.
Every morning I walk into my kitchen with a beautiful reminder on my counter that “His mercies are new every morning.”
This is such good news for Christian folk like me.
Dear Amanda, Christian folks get it wrong all the time. The beauty of our faith, though; the miracle of our faith is that we have a mighty Savior to run to.
He holds. He catches. He forgives. He offers new morning mercies for today and for tomorrow and yes, if I will just remember and let him—
He will contend with those that contend with me.