How God Gave Me The Finger...

Hands immersed in suds, I scrub and pick at dishes while grumbling about considering the blindness and complacency of Christians. “Lord, why don’t they know better? And LIVE better? Doesn’t it make you angry?!” I scrub with vigor.

“Can you believe it? I mean, what do YOU think about that Lord?!?!... !!!”

A sharp corner catches my fingertip and I jerk back. Lifting my hands from soapy water, I examine the wound.  

These hands had been healed once… But a few short months after

God healed my finger, it began cracking and bleeding again.

I don’t know why, but accept that He gives and takes away for His own reasons.

Now, as I examine flesh divided, I realize I’m pointing at myself.

Lips part in surprise, and I raise eyes to ceiling, laughing.
Lord, you are funny. I love your irony! … your word play…

I have pointed accusations at others

yet you turn to use it for my own correction.

All those prayers I uttered to heal my finger…

perhaps it’s the pointy index of my heart that needs healing.

Yes, complacency and blindness are terrible things to see in Christ’s bride.
But my remaining angry about it will soon reap bitterness... an equally terrible thing to see.

Lord, forgive me for judging others; people you’ve made in your image for your glory. It is for you to allow and prevent, to guide and to train. Thank you for the grace and mercy you’ve poured out on me. Please pour that same grace and mercy onto others through me. Thank you for being patient enough to teach me even when I’m busy shouting and pointing fingers. Let me do the same for others by your Holy Spirit.  Amen.

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