Friday, July 17, 2009

It's Not Fair!

The past couple of days I've had a self-centered attack of the "What about Me?"'s and the "Its not fair!"'s as I've allowed myself on occassion to give in to old thoughts. I've run into some people who have been getting away with things that are wrong, and that bugs me. I've run into someone I used to know who is whiney & negative, and manipulates people into feeling sorry for her, and that bugs me too. So I confess I've been feeling...perturbed. And a little judgemental too. And a little of the "this isn't fair!" stuff has snuck in there too. I try to always do the right thing, and I work like crazy to be positive & help others, yet when I need help-- is it there?-- not often. So, I went into a funk. Man, what about me? This isn't fair!

I have been praying & praying about this attitude of mine. I know it needs a MAJOR adjustment still. I don't want to have any bitterness or resentment in my heart. I'm not better than anyone else, & I do stuff wrong all the time; what right do I have to complain about other people, right?
So tonight I asked God to have a Come-t0-Jesus-Meeting with me (do y'all have those outside of Texas?) and He sure did.

My attitude adjustment came with the TRUTH of what is REALLY not fair in life. God laid it on my heart to watch Mel Gibson's "The Passion" movie for the umpteenth time tonight. One of my favorite movies. Always breaks my heart & I have to look away at some parts, like when Jesus is being beaten and spit on. But this time, I forced myself to watch every bit--
Here's what's "NOT FAIR:"
That Jesus lived a perfect, absolutely sinless life, and yet was punished for our sins. MY sins.
That Jesus loved me so much that he came down from his perfect life in heaven beside the Father, put up with people SPITTING IN HIS FACE, calling him horrendous names, blaspheming him, beating him until he was unrecognizable, and DYING for me. THAT's what isn't fair.
That I don't deserve a dang thing... and yet THIS is what he did for me:
I know it was Roman soldiers who put him on the cross, but it may as well have been MY hand on that nail, and my arm swinging that hammer. Because that's what it represented:
His Mercy. His Love. His Death. That's what's not fair.
Consider my attitude adjusted.
I will now go back to my regular programming.

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