Why Finding Fault and Placing Blame Won't Solve Anything

Yesterday I woke up early.  Mike was out of town, and I knew I needed to get up early to be able to shower and get everything ready before it was time to wake the girls for the day.

I had plenty of time for the things I needed to accomplish.  Get dressed, make breakfast, pack snacks and backpacks, get two 5 year olds ready for school . . . no problem.

Except . . . I decided to open my computer for just a few minutes.  (What was I thinking?!!!)

A few too many minutes went by and in a panic I closed my computer, rushed up the steps, stressed out from how little time I now had to accomplish such a long task list!

 And it's *that* mom that my girls woke up to.

Have you ever tried to get two little kids to do anything in a hurry?  If you have, then you can picture the scene in my house.

Pan-de-freaking-monium!

I woke up Shannay and told her to go potty.  Shannay's not a morning person. At all.  So I give her the extra time she needs.  Except we didn't have extra time today because I made a poor decision.

As I finished getting her sister ready, and then told Shannay it was her turn to get ready she said, "I need to go potty" . . .  just like she does every. single. morning.  She always waits until it's her turn and then SUDDENLY she has to go.  For real.

You see, she has control issues.  It's too much to explain so you can read this if you want to understand what I'm saying.  But the point is, I know this is how the morning is going to go down.  On most mornings, it doesn't bug me.  I don't let her need to be in control be an issue for us.  I politely tell her, "Okay, go potty and let's get ready."

But because I had made the decision to get online and waste precious minutes that I didn't need to waste, I was not the mom she needed.  I flipped.  I yelled like a crazy person said , "Shannay, we do this every single day.  You are not in control.  I am in control."

Side note:  Anytime you have to STATE that you are in control, you aren't.

The morning proceeded pretty much as you would expect it to go with a stressed out, flipped out mom. Lots of yelling, lots of hurrying, lots of tears.

When we finally got in the car, and we were all able to take a deep breath, I said, "Girls, I'm sorry.  You didn't do anything wrong this morning.  I did.  I wasted time on my computer and then I got mad at you because we had to hurry. I'm sorry.  It's my fault."

Nikki said, "Mama, fault don't matter."

Cue my mama tears.

You see, when we have conflict in our house, especially between the girls, there is always such a great need for them to blame, to establish whose fault something is.  And I often just say to them, "Ladies, fault doesn't matter.  Let's just say we're sorry, fix the problem, and move on."

Sure fault matters. But my point to them is that sometimes we are so busy trying to find fault, and place blame, that we get stuck in the conflict and can't move on.

Despite my parenting fail of the morning, she was able to reach beyond the craziness and find the reassurance I give them when conflict threatens to overtake them.

"Fault don't matter."

All that to say, if today you're feeling like you've blown it as a parent, take a deep breath, say you're sorry, fix the problem, and move on. You're probably getting way more right than you think.

Don't Let Anger Steal Another Minute of Your Life

I have written and rewritten this opening paragraph more times than I care to think about. I think my struggle has been to write about anger in a real, personal way that is both transparent and helpful and yet honors the right to privacy of others. Sometimes a fine line to walk, you know? 

In deciding to write a blog series about our human emotions, I knew there would be subjects that would be hard to talk about because they involve some fairly deep-rooted and not altogether pleasant memories for me. And at the end of the day, I don't know that I WANT to write about them, nor do I know if you NEED to read about them. 

So how do I write about anger?  I've written about anger before, many times in fact.  I've written about the physiological effects of anger. I've written about anger in your marriage.  I've even written about losing your temper (which isn't so much anger as it is a lack of self-control).

REAL ANGER

But the anger I am talking about is the kind that is deep-seated, often rooted in unforgiveness of an event or a lifetime of events.  The anger I'm talking about bubbles to the surface in ways that are often shocking to the person who is angry as well as the people caught in the wake of their anger.

It's that anger that is crushing and cruel and has one purpose; to seek retribution for the pain and injustice that caused its birth in the first place.

I've known many angry people in my lifetime.  Many.  Too many for one lifetime, to be sure. But every angry person I have ever known shares one characteristic; they have been hurt, badly and deeply, and they don't have a clue how to free themselves from the bondage of that pain.  So they lash out.  

Some lash out physically, some verbally, often without provocation, always with devastating effects to the people in their lives.

THE SOURCE OF ANGER

I learned from an incredible friend and valued mentor that the source of anger, real anger, is unforgiveness.  Getting to the place where you can identify the core of your own anger is very, very difficult and very, very necessary.

I recently had a long talk with a friend of mine who grew up in a very angry home.  He was beaten, shouted at, ridiculed and betrayed by the very people who should have been his protectors, a fact that birthed in him an anger that eventually consumed him and the people around him.

What I learned about him as we talked was that though he felt he had forgiven his abusers, he could rattle off a list of offenses so quickly and with such deep emotion, that it surprised even him.  

Find the source of the pain, find the source of the anger.

We hold onto anger because it makes us feel powerful and invincible.  It's our way of shouting, "I will never be hurt again." Maybe we don't realize that's what we're shouting, but it is.  

We hold onto anger (or more accurately, unforgiveness) because it lets us feel we hold a debt over those whom have hurt us, a debt from which they will not easily be released.  For in releasing them, we fear we give them power to hurt us all over again.

But anger is a thief.  It is born of unforgiveness and hatred, and it robs us of many things, the greatest of which is freedom.

If you are angry, I have to ask you, do you feel free or do you feel imprisoned?  

WHAT WILL YOU CHOOSE?

Anytime I feel anger over something; deep, real anger, I have to ask myself, what am I so mad about?  Is this thing I am blowing up about the root of my anger, or a symptom of a deeper issue?  And once explored and defined, I ask myself these questions:

• Will I harbor bitterness and unforgiveness, or will I freely forgive others?
• Will I continue to be angry, or will I release myself from the bondage of my anger?

Indeed, will I choose bondage or freedom?  Because ultimately, that's what my choices will lead me to, either bondage or freedom.


But here is our promise:

Galatians 5:1 "But it is for freedom that Christ has set us free . . ."

Christ HAS set us . . . me . . . free.  Not Christ "will" set me free, but he "HAS" set me free. I am already free. Any bondage I choose to live in, is then, of my own choosing.

All that to say, I hope you will choose freedom over anger.  And once chosen, I hope you will walk in that freedom. For it is a choice. 

Bitterness is Like a Chili Dog

I was looking for a quote the other day for a client's blog when I came across this quote by Martin Luther King, Jr.

"Never succumb to the temptation of bitterness." 

Read it again slowly. It has more meaning that way. 

Never succumb to the temptation of bitterness.

Never, not ever, not on any day, in any moment, for even a second, should you allow yourself to give in to the call of bitterness; for she does, indeed, call out to you. She wants you. She seduces you to come to her side. But Bitterness is a liar and a cruel mistress.

Never succumb, nor give in, nor release yourself to, nor shackle yourself to Bitterness. She is cunning, and her chains are heavy and binding.

Never succumb to the temptation. Oh how easy it is to give way to the temptation. To allow yourself that short moment to justify your anger, to rationalize your hurt. 

How sweet the scent of Bitterness as she presses in, whispering seductively, "You deserve to be mad. No one has the right to treat you that way." 

Never succumb to the temptation of Bitterness. For once you have opened the door to her, she will not soon leave.

All that to say, bitterness is like a chili dog, it tastes good going down, but the lingering effects aren't good for you or anyone around you. 

(I thought I'd end sounding more like Carol Jones and less like Henry Ward Beecher.)

Sitting in the Middle of the Road

I was driving home last Friday  morning from an early morning walk with friends.  For a Friday, the roads were surprisingly empty, but I suppose it's because it was the Friday after the Fourth of July and more people than usual were sleeping in.

As I drove, somewhat lost in my own thoughts, I happened to notice a gorgeous black lab sitting in the median up ahead of me.  He sat there, very stoic-looking, and incredibly relaxed for a dog sitting in a median. As I approached, I realized he was sitting next to another dog who was dead.

When I got home, I couldn't shake the image of the beautiful black lab standing guard over what I can only assume was his friend, his fellow traveler, his mate.  He didn't appear to be anxious, or waiting for help.  He simply sat, perhaps still in shock, perhaps mourning, perhaps simply not knowing what to do next.

Feeling His Pain

And oddly, I felt a kinship to his story.  A very huge part of what I know to be "me" is gone.  And I find that I am simply sitting, somewhat in shock (yes, still), somewhat in mourning, and somewhat simply not knowing what to do next.

On a walk with a friend this morning, I was explaining to her that I feel lost in trying to re-establish community within the church.  And it occurred to me as we talked, that all the reasons I give for not being "able" to find a church to attend are excuses. The real reason is that I am mad "at" the church, and therefore don't really want to attend any church.

She told me that was like having a bad experience with an oil and gas company and deciding I just wasn't going to ever buy oil and gas again. . . (or something like that . . . I was in the moment. It was beautiful when she said it.)

The Middle of the Road

At its core, I have unforgiveness in my heart.  I am frozen in that unforgiveness, and I am the only one who can really do anything at all about it.  It's somewhat disheartening to know that I have within myself, the Power to set myself free.  And yet, like that beautiful black lab, I choose to sit, frozen in the middle of the road, unable or unwilling to move.

All that to say, knowing WHAT to do and DOING it are often two very different things. I can't sit here in the middle of the road much longer, for it's a very dangerous place to sit. I am assured that God's best for me is still ahead of me.  I'm just gonna need to get ON the road and out of the middle of it. 

Carol

Our Battle Is NOT With Flesh and Blood

I went to church tonight, which if you keep up with my life, is no small thing.  (Not because I'm not a church goer, but because I went to my old church, where I used to work . . . it's complicated.)

While I was there, the Pastor was talking about being "in the battle."  And I couldn't help but think that the battle is all around us.  How often do we as believers feel at odds or even persecuted by other believers and treat them as though they are on the "opposing team?'

Far too often I would venture to guess.

I know it's true of me.

While I was there, I thought about the people who had hurt me, or talked bad about me, or blah, blah, blah fill in the blank, and in the midst of those emotions, I had a very superior feeling of righteousness.

Trust me when I tell you, though, open your heart to God in the middle of HIS church, and He's not going to let you feel very superior OR righteous for long, because there is nothing righteous about those feelings.

Those feelings are born solely of unforgiveness.

And I must see the unforgiveness in myself, and forgive.  I cannot be responsible for someone else's unforgiveness.  I can (and should) attempt to be reconciled to them (if they are open to it), but holding a grudge, harboring judgement or unforgiveness . . . simply not an option.

What I should have been thinking about was the people I have hurt, or talked bad about, or treated unfairly, or judged and prayed for forgiveness.

I am not on the opposing team.  They are not on the opposing team.  For the love of Jesus, we are brothers and sisters.  We play for the same team.  There is no glory for God when we, His children, who are called by His name, are content to live at odds with one another.

As I would say to my toddlers, "That is NOT okay."

All that to say, I am grateful that God makes me painfully aware of my sin, my self-righteousness, my unforgiveness.  Grateful because it keeps me from fooling myself into believing that I am healed when I am not.  I like to think I'm good at fooling myself.  God's got my number though.  Thank God.