by Rachelle
Humble Pie Smells TERRIBLE, but…it can be filling.
Have you ever had “words” with a loved one?
Ever spoken too much (in the moment), defensively, because, “THEY HAD IT COMING!?”
Me too.
Christmas brings us together, globally and intimately. Families break bread and employees potluck in break-rooms. Ugly silences can also break between members of these groupings, “Let’s bury the hatchet, after all it’s Christmas!”
Or…folks can take a Christmas candle moment–a symbol of peace and unity–and burn a metaphoric bridge.
You know, bridges are complex structures. Some are held together by steel and cement, others by splinters and glue, but they all have a common purpose in connecting. We are born with some bridges (family), grafted into others (work relationships & marriage), and construct our own (friendships and all other relationships). And, depending on the tenacity in which we maintain these structures, all bridges have the potential of strengthening, deteriorating, or burning.
Alright, alright–my point is, I screwed up with one of those relationships and thought about, not burning it but, detonating our bridge.
I messed up. It’s not the first time I’ve ruffled their feathers either and they’ve not been quiet about my mistakes. When I discovered that grapevine conversations were taking place about my shortcomings I was hurt and my own feathers were ruffled.
No, I hadn’t been prioritizing our bridge and so my side was a bit wobbly. We live further apart than we used to and if the Golden Gate bridge could talk it would say, “Good long bridges require upkeep and solid materials to be good strong bridges.” An annual birthday text and Christmas shoutout is not good maintenance. But I don’t mind telling you that this other person’s side of the bridge was a bit wobbly too–not from a lack of attempt in upkeep, but because they’re pushy and have a habit of giving out unsolicited advice in, at times, an obnoxious manner. <sigh> But when I visit their side…there is fierce loyalty and deep love on their island and I get a taste of that…when I visit.
Letting other’s shortcomings justify my own neglect of bridge maintenance shows a lack of maturity. I must take responsibility for my side of the bridge.
I apologized for my failure and neglect. I owned it, which, in turn, kept the bridge from burning.
As a child, I saw the picture in Sunday school which depicted the chasm that lay between us (mankind) and our Creator. Sin burned our bridge, our connection to God’s perfection. We had no way of crossing over until the cross on Calvary. The cross of Christ now bridges that gap. If not for His own humility–humbling himself, first, coming to earth as a baby and, then, living out an existence on this broken planet until He purposefully allowed himself to die in order to conquer that gap that divided us from God’s plan–we would be lost. He didn’t just maintain the bridge…He is the bridge and through His plan, humbling myself will further connect me to His Spirit.
I want my bridges to be made of sturdier things than steel. If I allow Jesus to teach me how to build and maintain and humbly accept responsibility (especially when I mess up)…the bridge can be used for more than a good connection, but for a healing one.
This Christmas, will you join me in repairs? After all, Jesus was a mason/carpenter–He’s got skills.
