Friday, January 14, 2005
Of Pity Parties And Other Places
I've had God drag me out of a few pity parties. I'm always embarrassed when He comes through the door, brushes past the noisy (invisible) crowd and finds me slumped over at a little table, drunk on self-pity cordial. You've tasted self-pity cordial, haven't you? It's warm and red and goes down smooth--at first. But then an hour later it makes your head throb and you feel worse, as though the best days of your life are over. And when you look around at those people who haven't yet succumbed, you hate the ones who are laughing. You think they are laughing at you.
I've had people tell me, "God takes me, accepts me, right where I am." And yes, He does.
But if He finds us at a pity party, He certainly doesn't want to leave us there. He does all He can to take our arm and pull us outside for some cold, fresh air. Then He walks us to a better place. A place where no self-pity cordial is served from the bar.
Yet only if we cooperate. Only if we let Him take our arm. Only if we leave the dark places and walk with Him to the light just up the road.