Addicted to Hate

Some are so accustomed to being hated, that’s the fix, stronger than any drug. They don’t even hate others, but they, in fact, need the loathing. That’s what they’re addicted to: others hating them and showing it on a regular basis. I never realized that it’s not just self-loathing, but others detesting them is also what they crave. And they may not even know it. There’s still that hope there that it will get better and this time will be different. But in the end, it’s easier to accept pure hatred than it is to change. It’s the normal that they’re used to. 

The enemy has succeeded in getting that grasp, whether it’s their mind or their heart, or both. Regardless, the light in their eyes is ever so slowly being dimmed, the fire snuffed to just embers. “You are loved” bounces off like a racquetball from a wall. They’re surrounded by the wrong force field. Their truth has been skewed. And no matter how we try or how hard we cry, it is God Alone Who convinces them that what they trust is the opposite of truth. It hurts like screaming hot flames seeing them that close to true freedom and watching them choose lies again.  

It’s almost automatic to wonder what more we could have done, and the truth is: there’s always more. We could’ve given one more hug, said one more prayer, and shown one more smile. But another truth is this: they made the choice.

Praying for those today that believe the lies, hope for better days, and the families that continue to pray. Never stop tearing down those force fields; the truth could be right at the surface now, no longer buried deep within. Breakthrough is coming in Jesus’ name.

Who I am vs. Who He Is

I’m a woman, mom, daughter of God, who lives for quiet time. And feels guilty for that at times since I know “it goes so fast” and I shouldn’t blink and all that jazz. I enjoy the moments that I have with my kids the best I can, but honestly, I can only stress about the latest minor injury affecting wardrobe choice (my daughter twisted her ankle and now can’t wear her high-heeled boots as per the plan today) or rejoice in the latest video game victory (the only occurrence my son gets excited about is winning a battle after only 27.9 hours of playing. Wait, has he been playing for that long?) And I’m finding that when my husband purchases a used, but perfect carburetor differential thingy for the Jeep, I can only feign so much so exhilaration. Wahoo.

Some days I try to put myself in their shoes, but my big ol’ feet just won’t fit nor do I care. Yeah, I said it. My kids are injured and/or amazing online soldiers and the man of my dreams found exactly what he was looking for and I don’t care. Are you shocked right now? All you moms out there feel me. Say it. Whisper it if you need to: I. Don’t. Care. Now that’s exhilarating!

The fact is that I can only care so much about things that don’t interest me. Thank God Almighty He’s not the same!! God cares about me and allllll my crap. Did we decide we Christians can say “crap”? Lemme know.

The Creator of the universe and all that’s in it cares about me and you. The one-word question that comes to my mind every single time is… “Why?” Why would you care about anything I’m doing or interested in, God? What could keep you intrigued? This wasn’t the plan that You had for the world, right? And I do junk (Is “junk” better than “crap”? Lemme know.) that can’t possibly make you happy all the time, even if it’s just watching Blue Bloods when I could be reading about one of the apostles.

For those of you unbelievers, or even discouraged believers, who feel that God can’t possibly care, I feel you. It doesn’t make sense to me either. But I can tell you with all certainty that He cares. So the next time your mind is on repeat, and it’s playing, “Who cares?” over and over and over, “He does” is the answer.

Praying for everyone battling today. Hold on. It’s worth it, I promise.