Friday was not my best day. If you have been following my sister blog, “Unmaternal”, which is all about my pregnancy journey, then you know about a recent struggle I’ve had. There are people that I thought would be overjoyed about my pregnancy who have chosen to not be a part of this process. People who I thought would be fully involved in my child’s life don’t even want to be a part of his or her development. On Friday, I had just about enough. Here I was 14 weeks pregnant and was still yet to receive a call checking and seeing how the baby and I were doing. By this point I had gone to the doctor twice. I had an ultrasound these people hadn’t seen, heard a heartbeat they hadn’t heard about, and been assigned a due date that they didn’t know. I was hurt. I was offended. I was becoming bitter. My joy was gone.
I needed a resurrection.
I took this personal, not because of the offenders’ opinions of me, but because they were transferring that to my child. No one wants to think her child is unloved. The more I thought about it the more I was ready to snap. In a moment of hormone induced sadness I posted a comment to my facebook page regarding the matter. I just felt like I had to get it out or I’d explode. My very kind friends came running to check on the baby and I and for that I am grateful. I had felt so alone and unloved, but my true friends lifted me, but then my emotions switched from hurt to worry.
The more I thought about what I had written the more I regretted it. Not because I wasn’t justified in my feelings, but because I let my flesh respond to a spiritual matter. The Lord has amazed me with the way He has worked in my life in the last year, and He has promised me that we are headed somewhere even more exciting. All I could think was “is this snarky comment worth destroying my reputation as a minister in another’s eyes?” God has too big of a plan for me to throw it away in a moment of weakness, and the same is true for you too.
As I prayed, it became clear to me that this scenario was an attack of the enemy against what I’m trying to do, and when I let my flesh lash out, I was letting him win. Then I realized, if these people are allowing themselves to be a pawn in his game, then they need my prayer now more than ever. I also realized that I needed serious help.
I needed a resurrection.
I came to realize on this Easter weekend that I needed a resurrection of hope. I need a resurrection of love. I need a resurrection of joy. I need a resurrection of peace. But there’s a problem…
You can’t have a resurrection without a death.
There couldn’t have been an Easter morning if it hadn’t been for the events commemorated by Good Friday. When Christ’s flesh was murdered, He made the preparations for hope to be resurrected.
There has to be a death day before there can be a resurrection.
It’s as true today as it was then. If we want our hope to be brought back to life, we have to be willing to crucify our flesh. If we want our hope, love, joy, and peace to live, we have to accept a criminal’s death of our flesh.
I can’t stay bitter and expect peace to live in my heart.
I can’t maintain hate and expect love to be alive in my life.
I just can’t do it.
So I removed the post from my page, and I am choosing to remove anger from my heart. My flesh and every response that comes from it will die by my own hand. And this Easter I wait for my hope to be resurrected!
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