1 Truly God is good to Israel,
to those who are pure in heart.
2 But as for me, my feet had almost stumbled,
my steps had nearly slipped.
3 For I was envious of the arrogant
when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.
16 But when I thought how to understand this,
it seemed to me a wearisome task,
17 until I went into the sanctuary of God;
then I discerned their end.
18 Truly you set them in slippery places;
you make them fall to ruin.
21 When my soul was embittered,
when I was pricked in heart,
22 I was brutish and ignorant;
I was like a beast toward you.
23 Nevertheless, I am continually with you;
you hold my right hand.
24 You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward you will receive me to glory.
25 Whom have I in heaven but you?
And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you.
26 My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
I grew up a church kid.
Not the "But I had a double life" kind of church kid.
I truly WAS the church kid...the kid who loved doing the right thing, who truly wanted to know God more, and the kid who enjoyed the safe, good, loving nature of the church every week.
With that, "taking the high road" in social situations was fairly easy for me. I cleaned up my side of the street in conflict, I chose my friends and romantic relationships slowly and wisely, and I said sorry the moment I realized I was wrong about something. People would tell me I was a rarity, that I was a blessing, that I was changing people's lives in how healthily I treated others.
That was the big word. Healthy. I've been called healthy my whole life. Whole. Entire. Life. I haven't been perfect, but I've recovered pretty gracefully when I have fallen, and I always have an admiring audience who can't wait to tell me how healthy my choices are.
This was all easy for me to do for about ten years, then it got more difficult about two years ago. It didn't get more difficult to know how to be healthy, it got more difficult to want to be healthy.
I started seeing too many crappy people get great opportunities in their lives, too many spoiled brats continue to get everything handed to them on a silver platter, too much sorrow for the humble and God-fearing people around me, too much pleasure given to the greedy, too much authority given to the prideful, too much "good" given to the bad and too much "bad" given to the good.
I started seeing and experiencing what I considered to be an overwhelming amount of emotional and situational injustice.
So began the long and subtle road down which my soul slipped, cultivating the resentment I've written about before, growing the infuriating question that I shouted in the darkness with rage:
What's the point of living the "right" way if good things are given to the cheats, the deceivers, the arrogant?
I struggled with this for a long time. I chose not to take the high road for, in my mind, a long time. I relished the injustice, in the wrongs done to me personally. I felt a savage survival instinct surface in me, willing and ready to wound anyone who tried to take what was rightfully mine. That bitterness and hate was mine, what I protected, even from the hand of the Lord.
I've been graciously lifted out of that mindset through a long and painful process, but still did not know what to do with all the injustice I still experienced until I read Psalms 73 this morning. I finally felt free of it.
Logic leads me to perceive injustice. The sanctuary of God leads me to perceive an all-consuming justice that misses nothing.
After this long journey, through all that I have overcome and have been overcome by, I can assuredly count these words as true:
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever
With that, "taking the high road" in social situations was fairly easy for me. I cleaned up my side of the street in conflict, I chose my friends and romantic relationships slowly and wisely, and I said sorry the moment I realized I was wrong about something. People would tell me I was a rarity, that I was a blessing, that I was changing people's lives in how healthily I treated others.
That was the big word. Healthy. I've been called healthy my whole life. Whole. Entire. Life. I haven't been perfect, but I've recovered pretty gracefully when I have fallen, and I always have an admiring audience who can't wait to tell me how healthy my choices are.
This was all easy for me to do for about ten years, then it got more difficult about two years ago. It didn't get more difficult to know how to be healthy, it got more difficult to want to be healthy.
I started seeing too many crappy people get great opportunities in their lives, too many spoiled brats continue to get everything handed to them on a silver platter, too much sorrow for the humble and God-fearing people around me, too much pleasure given to the greedy, too much authority given to the prideful, too much "good" given to the bad and too much "bad" given to the good.
I started seeing and experiencing what I considered to be an overwhelming amount of emotional and situational injustice.
So began the long and subtle road down which my soul slipped, cultivating the resentment I've written about before, growing the infuriating question that I shouted in the darkness with rage:
What's the point of living the "right" way if good things are given to the cheats, the deceivers, the arrogant?
I struggled with this for a long time. I chose not to take the high road for, in my mind, a long time. I relished the injustice, in the wrongs done to me personally. I felt a savage survival instinct surface in me, willing and ready to wound anyone who tried to take what was rightfully mine. That bitterness and hate was mine, what I protected, even from the hand of the Lord.
I've been graciously lifted out of that mindset through a long and painful process, but still did not know what to do with all the injustice I still experienced until I read Psalms 73 this morning. I finally felt free of it.
Logic leads me to perceive injustice. The sanctuary of God leads me to perceive an all-consuming justice that misses nothing.
After this long journey, through all that I have overcome and have been overcome by, I can assuredly count these words as true:
My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever



