faith unfaded

I’d turned in the copy for my faith column to my editor. It was titled “Seeing Red” and it highlighted Ephesians 4:26. Be angry, and sin not. 

I’d had a difficult situation, and I had handled it pretty well. 

I had no idea that was merely the pop quiz. 

The real test came last week, when the Lord forced me to put my money where my mouth was. 

A good friend had died, and my parents and I were helping the family with the arrangements. I’d volunteered to send the death notice to a local newspaper I used to write for. It had not been an easy task—I’d been heartbroken when they’d ended my contract—but I’d been grateful for the opportunity. Their closed door had opened many others, and my pride was not going to get in the way of honoring a dear friend. 

By the second day, the “free-to-the-public” death notice still hadn’t run and I began to wonder if there was a personal grudge against me. My dad said there was no way. 

We have a similar heart that couldn’t fathom someone disrespecting the dead so blatantly. Surely it was a misunderstanding.

It wasn’t. 

The details don’t matter, and I’m not dragging innocent people into this story. But after some lying, gaslighting, and attacking, it was confirmed that they wouldn’t run it simply because I was the one who asked. 

And I had the receipts. 

I was mad. Way madder than the situation I’d written about in my faith column, for sure. I was ready to crucify this publication with screenshots and charges. 

Meanwhile, the Lord was steadily reminding me of my own words. Be angry and sin not. 

Me: Well, it’s not a sin to expose darkness. 

God: Yes, your heart is pretty dark over this situation. 

We have these Lincoln-Douglas debates sometimes. I never win. 

The day of the funeral I’d made up my mind that I would not discuss the obituary situation at all. Besides, the Lord had already handled it in spectacular fashion, with a beautiful tribute airing elsewhere locally. 

I was driving home for the service—a 3-hour drive that had given me lots of time to pray. I wanted to honor her. I wanted to honor God. And I didn’t just want to sin not, I didn’t want to be angry at all. 

Had they been wrong? Absolutely. Would I stand in front of God and answer for them? Absolutely not. I was responsible for my own actions and behavior. 

Not only would I stand in front of God one day, I had to stand in front of a mirror every day. I like the person looking back at me these days. That has not always been the case in my life.

But I was struggling. All anger feels righteous when you’ve been wronged. It’s compounded when the injustices are against those you love. 

The Lord brought to mind my grandmother’s funeral. It is one of my biggest regrets in life. The woman who’d taught me about Jesus, prayed for me for years when I ventured off-course, and loved me faithfully my entire life, and I’d spent her entire funeral fuming because my children were sitting with my ex-husband and not me. 

How horrifying it was to look back on that day. How disrespectful to my grandmother, how immature of me. I have no doubt it was not malicious at all—he had even driven my great-aunt to the service in Baton Rouge—but I let Satan stir me up that day and I’ve been heartbroken about it ever since. 

In some small way, I believed that by letting my anger go and keeping the focus on honoring my friend, I was finally able to forgive myself for my selfish behavior at my Mema’s funeral. 

I’d imagined the two of them smiling together from Heaven. 

And I’d like to believe that in between them, the Lord smiled down on me too.