As a child, I had a strong sense of justice. I lived in a home where the scales tipped heavily down in one direction, and I thought it was my job to defend the defenseless.
I pushed and shoved in hopes of righting a wrong. What I realized after many rancorous battles was that she who yells loudest does not win.
Hostility never saves the day.
All my self-righteous indignation did little to change the acrimonious state of affairs in my environment.
I can’t strong-arm my way to greater peace. Pride never tears down strongholds of hatred and abuse.
Years of pain and misunderstanding later, I sat vigil in a hospital room next to the sick bed of the pesky person who I’d viewed as my adversary for close to three decades. Caring for a fragile shell of the broken bully cut through the layers of bravado.
I saw the raw weakness and need in the eyes of my enemy. God spoke clearly to me on that day. The Great Physician told me to lay down my sword and put on my servant’s hat.
My job is not to chastise and cajole. My calling is to support and strengthen.
If I became a helper, God would step in as a Healer.
Using my own might, my flesh will never succeed in this endeavor, but I’ve got access to God’s supernatural strength as I rely on the power of the Holy Spirit that dwells in me.
I’ve learned that love is my superpower…
I’m sharing over “Love is My Superpower” as part of Kristi’s ongoing series #YourStory.
To read the rest of this post, join me here.