Coulda, Woulda, Didn't

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Galatians 5:22-23

A few months ago, someone I loved and trusted did something to me that was really, really thoughtless and cruel.

I would have been totally justified in absolutely freaking out, telling this person off, and slamming the door shut on our relationship.

But I didn't.

I could have.

My friends told me they would have, if they'd been me. They were shocked that I didn't.

But I didn't.

I actually had something similar happen to me years before, and since then, I swore to myself that I'd never let it happen to me again. Not me, no way. Never again.

And yet. I didn't.

God spoke to me right when I needed to hear Him. He told me what was going on. He gave me peace. He let me in on what was happening in this person's head. He told me, not only to not freak out, but that I didn't even need to worry about it at all. It wasn't a problem. Everything would be fine. He was going to take care of it. "Chill out, sweetie, it's fine."

I'd love to say that I believed God with all of my being...but I didn't.

He was very clear, very obvious, very convincing, and also very comforting. Very. Perhaps more clear and more comforting than I've ever felt Him before in my life.

I mostly believed Him.

Even so, there was still a little part of me that wanted to freak out. I wanted to cry and scream and tell this person exactly how wronged I felt and how hurt I was. I'd been through this before and I swore it wasn't going to happen to me again!

But I couldn't. I knew I wasn't supposed to. I knew it would have been against God's will. Somehow, even thinking about doing it felt terribly wrong, and I knew that God would be angry with me if I did. I knew it would have made a big purple pig's ear of everything, and it just wasn't necessary. God kept saying, over and over, "Shhh. It's okay. Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter. I'm going to take care of it."

He wouldn't let me do it.

So I didn't.

And He did take care of it. Everything was fine. It didn't matter. At all.

Just like He said He would.

A few months later, I learned a little bit more about how much, according to worldly standards, I would have been justified in reacting in anger. But now, it just seems silly. That would have been so stupid, and would have hurled a wrecking ball through God's will and the amazing things that He has done since then.

I'm so glad I didn't. Not just because I kept someone close to me who I care about, but, even more so, because of what it means between God and myself. It means that in the last few years of working in me, quite without my even realizing it, He's grown me up from a defensive, self-righteous girl who reacts with "never again" to - is it possible? - a patient, gentle woman who reacts with "I forgive you."

For that reason alone, I'm so glad I didn't.