A Prayer about Death by Resentment
Resentment kills a fool. (Job 5:2 NIV)
Gracious Jesus, it’s been entirely too hot in our city this summer, and I’ve been registering that complaint entirely too many times— so much, in fact, that I can now see how my complaining has been morphing into resenting. It came to a head yesterday when I walked out my front door for a jog, only to find myself cursing the humidity, the temperature, even the sun.
I came back inside and inaugurated a thirty-minute pout. That’s when you convicted me, when you let me know the weather’s not the only thing I’ve been resenting lately. I resent having to explain and repeat myself. Why can’t everybody instantly intuit what I’m thinking?
I resent grocery stores running out of my favorite cereal. Who does their stocking, anyway? I resent gossips, so much that I gossip to others about their gossip. I resent change and transition. Why can’t everything stay the same, or at least disrupt my plans and “groove” minimally?
I resent resentful people. Why can’t they stop their whining and be more content with what they have? I resent roads that are always being repaired, drivers that delay moving four seconds after the red light turns green, birds that do their business on my windshield. I resent good grass dying and crabgrass thriving. I especially resent that people I love suffer too much, too soon in life. It just doesn’t seem right or fair.
Jesus, my resentment will either kill me as a fool or drive me to you for life. I choose the second option. Forgive me for fertilizing a spirit of entitlement. Forgive me for not pulling up the roots of bitterness sooner. Forgive me for being better at resenting than repenting of late. Forgive me for demanding life in the “not yet” before the “already” is over. Forgive me for preaching the gospel to others but not to myself. Forgive me for telling others of the sufficiency of your grace while looking for some other balm for myself.
I make no excuses or promises. Today, right now, I simply collapse upon you afresh as my wisdom, my righteousness, my holiness, and my redemption (1 Cor. 1:30). I praise you that I’m not feeling condemnation, for there is none. I praise you that I am feeling conviction, for there is plenty. I pray in your patient and loving name.
Amen.