The other week, Drew and I got into a scuffle and we went back and forth for a few hours, trying to defend ourselves and the way we each felt about the matter at hand. And before too long, we sat there, looking at each other, weary and sleepy, and the Spirit pressed deep on my soul: “Kels, the goal shouldn’t be for you to end up being the one who was right.” I looked at my gentle, deeply kind husband with a broken heart.
My mind flashed back to when Drew and I were in premarital counseling. Our pastor said something to us that just about knocked me off my feet: “Jesus died for his bride,” and then with a cringe, “And he was right.” With that, our pastor warned us gently about the temptation for pride to take the reigns. If we weren’t careful, our marriage could become a union of two always-right-people who didn’t know what it meant to lay down their lives, their pride, their relentless right-ness for the sake of loving the other person. But looking at the Cross, we see the bridegroom willingly laying down his life for a brood of brides who scream with assurance that they are correct, not even able to see Love himself for who he is.
Right now, the world is swirling with opinions of much strength, people screaming that they are the right ones, hands clasped over ears when it comes to hearing any opposing idea. And believe me, I have my opinions-- I do not want to suggest that we passively lean back and watch, especially as injustice wreaks its havoc and takes advantage of the weak. But if the goal of our outrage is only to be right, to feel good about ourselves because we are the right ones, to puff ourselves up, then I think we have missed a clear mark of God’s character.
I write this with resignation and repentance, having been on the team of crossed-arms-and-eye-rolls more than a few times. But when it comes down to it, I don’t want to be the person who is always right. I don’t want to be the person whose unchecked pride has built a wall between me and a friend. I don’t want to be so resolved in making my point that I forget to look into the eyes of the person who is receiving my words. I want to look to the interests of others before my own. I want to hold my tongue when it only serves to offer a bite and not a balm. I want to be like my Savior, who even in his pure righteousness, loved the world he made to the point of his own death.
Kelsey Miller // @kelskingmiller