My Big Jerky Mouth

The other day my wife and I got in an argument. Yes, it happens. It shouldn’t because most of the things we argue about are totally avoidable and afterwards seem very insignificant . . . but it does happen.

It was my fault, too. I said something insensitive and hurtful. At the time I didn’t realize how hurtful it was or maybe I just didn’t want to realize it. I didn’t mean it to wound.

But it did.

And when confronted with it I didn’t want to admit it. Words were exchanged and then we both fell silent, the tension between us as thick as mud.

But there was a moment. I don’t know where it came from or how it got in my head but I looked at her sitting there on the sofa and didn’t see her as my wife who I was at odds with but as a person. A person with feelings and desires and dreams. I put myself in her shoes.

And it hit me. I was wrong. I hurt her. My tongue had caused a wound. My big jerky mouth had done it again. I felt the sting of my words, the disappointment, the loneliness they caused.

But still I couldn’t admit it. My pride was pushing back, telling me I didn’t mean it, it wasn’t my fault, she’s too sensitive.

I wrestled. Boy did I wrestle. If my inner turmoil would have manifested itself physically I would have been writhing on the floor, moaning, groaning, straining.

Finally, I threw pride aside and admitted I was wrong. I told her I’d been insensitive and that it wasn’t fair of me to say what I said. I apologized.

(Photo credit: BlueRobot)

And then came the shame. Sometimes, I can’t stand to be me. My tongue can be so sharp, my sensitivity so dull, my pride such a bully. I wanted to crawl under a rock and not show my face for days.

Then God reminded me how he uses some pretty creative ways to reach us. His spirit spoke to me through my conscience. His forgiveness touched me through my wife. He wiped away the shame and restored my soul.

Today, look for those unique ways God chooses to touch you or speak to you or show you his love.

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