So lately, that famous Biblical character
named David has been the hot topic of discussion in and around my circles of
community. You know, the kid who took out a giant mean dude with a single rock
to the forehead. That kid later became a great King who did lots of great
things but also became distracted enough to mess around with someone else’s
wife, produce a baby from that screw up and then have the woman’s husband
killed in battle just to make sure it never came back to bite him. And yet,
this is the same guy that God Himself, the great I AM, Alpha and Omega, Author
and Finisher of our faith (you get the point) made a point to call “a man after
my own heart.” Huh?
It’s complicated.
Yesterday, the topic at hand was revenge
and Wes used another illustration from David’s life. This time, David (pre-King)
was on the lam, running from a bad King Saul who was trying to kill him and
keep him from taking the throne. In one moment, David had the perfect
opportunity to off Saul but in this instance David chose mercy over revenge.
It’s an awesome story. Wes went on to make some great points about revenge and
why it’s never a good idea. (Listen here.)
To take it a bit further, I’d like to suggest
that revenge is even more insidious than we imagine and that even the most
peace-loving self-awarest (I know, not a real word) among us still struggles
with it because our culture is one that often celebrates a subtle form of
revenge masked as “success.” Stay with me. It’s super sticky (or slippery)
because subtlety is, by it’s very nature, a bit dodgy and we must examine closely to understand.
The lines are blurry and faint, easily escaping the eyes of our soul. It takes
excruciating self-dissection so we usually opt for quippy motivational one-liners to help
us settle our scores and stop the bleeding. According to Brené Brown, research proves that
the mind seeks clarity over ambiguity and whatever it takes to get us past the
hump of uncomfortability (before anyone else notices), is welcome relief with
minimal effort required.
So, when a close friend (cough) shared recently
that she’d been hurt by a decision someone had made that totally rained on her parade,
she had no idea her feet were firmly planted on either side of that fuzzy line
of revenge/mercy. Her natural response was to summon the internal cheerleader that would keep
from sliding straight down the rabbit hole of depression and resentment, taking
all of her demons with her. “You go, girl!” Don’t let the bastards get you
down, girl! Hey, the best revenge is S-U-C-C-E-S-S!”
Needle scratch.
What if the bastards
weren’t really out to get me?
What if the bastards
weren’t really bastards at all?
What if the success I
desire was never meant to be mine?
What if I there was a real
gift in this failure/setback?
What if the thing I was
meant to have is already mine?
How can I see the greater
good in this deviation from my original plan?
Hear me now and believe me
later: Never would I suggest that that the courageous pursuit of a dream is
wrong. Achieving a goal through perseverance can be a great triumph of the human spirit,
and the joy of such an accomplishment can be a true gift. But if you choose to see that
as the highest gift and believe that
anything or anyone who keeps you from it is hurting you, then let me rain on
your parade. In his book Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, Peter
Scazzero suggests that one real marker of spiritual transformation is living
with a greater detachment to all the “things” we possess (including people). We
are to love and enjoy them with gratitude, but also with the awareness that
they are not our lives. And it’s often not until they are removed by God that we
realize how attached we are to them. I can tell you from vast experience,
that’s always a real sucker-punch moment. Buzz kill, at it's finest.
Back to revenge. I’m convinced
that mercy trumps it. If we are able to let go willingly, we do less damage to
ourselves (and the thing) because we are holding it loosely. We’ve left it
intact if we ever get it back and if we never see it again, we don’t mind. It’s
in this process that a greater gift is always given, as layers of our false
self are shed, and that true self that is Christ in us and through us, begins
to emerge.
Mercy begets mercy. And if
you happen to run into my friend, please share this story with her. I think she
needs it. Wink.
