Jesus hammered people with correction on occasion. Yes of course he showed mercy, but sometimes he was downright harsh. “Get thee behind me Satan” spoken to his apostle comes immediately to mind. How own apostle! I choose not to ignore these stronger, nervy qualities of Christ.
Also conveniently forgotten, we know from the Bible that Jesus showed public anger and outrage; thus the tossing over of the tables at the temple. There is no pussy footing around this, Jesus showed his righteous anger and disgust that they were using the Temple as a shopping mall and he yelled at them about their sin in doing so while trashing their displays.
This is where I come in. Despite my shortness in physical stature, I somehow have this fierce spirit that at times, when used in the proper Godly fashion (and trust me I know I don’t always use this device properly), produces remarkable results.
It’s not because I’m so strong. I have pencil arms – I am not buff or tough looking in any way. I look quite the feminine weenie actually. It’s because of my feisty spirit that I can and do get results. I’m like that with my writing as well.
I am very blessed by God to have frequent opportunities to travel. My last overseas trip was to France and Germany. While in Paris, my husband and I were fortunate to be able to attend a very lavish affair with our then pregnant daughter Allie at the French Ambassador’s “home.” His “home” by the way, is a castle. It was a magnificent tribute to both American and French military and as retired Army, my husband and I enjoyed the event enormously.
Allie had a high-risk pregnancy so when she said she wasn’t feeling too well, my only thought was to get her back to the hotel so she could put her feet up. We left the event early. I didn’t see the four people standing outside the entrance to the fortress. I walked right past them to our right and started to hail a taxi I saw in the distance. He pulled right up to the curb but the two man from the four ran up to the outside of the already opened back-seat passenger side door protesting in an animated fashion. I firmly told them in English as I stood my ground on the other side of the door, sorry, I got there first and I needed the cab for my pregnant daughter. They persisted vehemently telling me I went out of turn. I wasn’t catching on – but then my husband pointed out that there was a service of sorts to hail a cab. Undeterred I persisted, “My daughter is pregnant and she doesn’t feel well. Unless you have someone in your party in the same condition, you will yield sir as I will not.”
They rattled on in French and in English but I motioned to Allie to get inside the cab as she waddled over.
The only concession I gave was I asked the cab driver if he would get in some sort of trouble for taking us out of turn (since this was a government event) – he assured me he would not so I then promptly ignored the men without even looking at them as I got in the cab first to stake my claim. Allie and my husband soon followed. The slighted passenger-to-be yelled something about horrible, stupid Americans and away we went.
Do not mess with me was and can be my attitude. With few exceptions, people don’t.
Another example years ago is while we lived in Indialantic, Florida, my home was the stomping grounds for the neighborhood kids. I was a stay-at-home Mom, we had a huge corner lot so the kids would come to my house after school quite often to do their playing. One afternoon I saw these very large, and I don’t mean overweight, I mean big-boned and tall girls walking by my house. I thought to myself, “They must be on detention” as the high school had gotten out long ago and they just had that look about them; tough walk, cigarettes dangling from their lips, tattoos, sullen attitudes pasted on their faces.
I went about doing something else in the house but kept looking out the window to check on my kids in the front yard playing with their friends when to my shock, I see one of the girls in my driveway, twisting the front of the shirt of our neighbor’s boy in almost a choke-hold with one hand almost lifting him off the ground and with the other poising to punch him in the face. I ran to the door and onto the front porch and yelled, “Just what do you think you’re doing?” The boys were in first grade, the girl towered over Matthew as he looked up at her, fear shining in his eyes.
With a look of defiance shot my way like daggers, the girl only slightly loosened her grip on Matthew’s collar when she said, “Teaching this little _hit a lesson.” The other girl stood near-by with her friend, parroting an expression of, “What you gonna do about it?”
I growled, “You get yourself off of my property right now” as I simultaneously kicked off my flip flops and took off running towards the girls as fast as my feet would take me.
They didn’t wait. Matthew was long forgotten as they both took off running away down the street, me in hot pursuit as I yelled after them, “Where do you live? Who are your parents?”
The funny thing is, I didn’t stop once I chased them off the property. The other funny thing is, I don’t run. But I kept going. They kept running. Now, what the heck I thought I would have done with them if I actually caught these amazon-sized women, do not ask. I had nothing in my head at that time. My legs just kept pumping, my bare feet hardly aware of the gravel digging into my flesh. I was blinded and numbed by the adrenalin rush and my determination to protect my children and their friends.
I gave up about three good blocks away and began my walk home. When I did get back, I called the police and the next day when those girls walked by at around the same time, the police took care of the matter and we never saw those girls again. The Indialanatic police were top-notch.
I’m a small woman. I don’t even look athletic. I have no physical signs of strength, but God is strong. Jesus was tough; read the Bible, He was no weakling. Try dragging your cross to your own crucifixion sometime and being magnanimous to those around you while you do.
I emulate Him in this way in that, it’s how He made me. I get it wrong all the time and do things in non-righteous anger, I push when I should just be loving, I lose my temper. I can be very cranky. Jesus had all of that down perfectly. I don’t. I’m working on it though, I am working on it daily as it is a part of who I am in Him as I try to be His vessel and His ambassador.
That’s my piece for today.