“Because first I must repent.”
I shut off my car in the driveway, and I pause before getting out to go into the house. Why?
Because first I must repent. I must check and likely change my thinking, its content, tone, and frequency. The Kingdom is at hand. Will I see it, or will I go into my house and encounter my family believing my unsophisticated, unadjusted selfishness?
I’m heading into a meeting. First, I should go repent in the restroom. There, in a stall designed to shield others’ eyes as I dispose of that which has no value to me, I ask myself if I’m feeling ripped off by anyone or anything, recently or ever. Do I feel generally owed? I try to walk out of that place, my hands washed, my eyes open to how paid in full I may choose to be at any moment, and therefore how uninhibited I can be in Loving like I like to be Loved.
In a few moments I am going to ask my children to explain why, other than the fact that they are children, they haven’t done what they’ve been told to do. I must repent first: Have unmet expectations, condescension, humiliation happened to me today, motivating me to demand the members of my household give me what I’ve been robbed of? Am I going to be my children’s loving father or a bullying, wounded ego? Will I teach them “power” or strength? Will they walk away feeling Loved or fought? Once I repent, I may not even need to bring up their youthful oversight. Funny thing about getting logs out of my eye first; I often find there was no speck in your eye in the first place.
I’m having a conversation and I feel the urge to start talking. Perhaps the urge to begin out-storytelling you. I repent. Can’t I just listen to someone else’s good or terrible day and leave myself out of it unless invited? Wake up, Steve, or you’ll sleepwalk all over them.
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