Once I took a spiritual
gifts test that supposedly showed me one of my two spiritual strengths was
mercy. I was relieved to see it because I figured I could avoid confrontation.
After all, if I’d had discernment I’d know when my brothers and sisters needed
correction, and I’d have an obligation to confront them. And who needs that
drama?
I had the good sense to
know it isn’t over when you deliver a (hopefully) loving rebuke because you’ll
spend forever worrying that your words weren’t received the right way. Maybe someone is even watching you just for
the opportunity to show you up and call out a hypocrite? And then, when do you know if you’re
expressing your discernment to others, versus a less spiritual arrogance or
discomfort? What if you bring condemnation and division instead of restoration
because you didn’t have enough discernment about your own discernment? Yeech.
Pass, on that burden. Mercy it is, for me, because I assume it’s hugs all
around and nursing the wounds for people, once the big standard-bearers come
through with their needed rebuke.
Ruminating might be the
right word for Paul’s tone in much of II
Corinthians. In Paul’s first epistle
to the Corinthian Church, he gave a frank dressing-down of shameful behaviors.
That’s tricky to deliver long-distance, and Paul had agonized that he “wrote as I did, so that when I came I would
not be distressed by those who should have made me rejoice,” and “that even in Troas where the Lord had opened
a door for me, I still had no peace of mind… .” (II Corinthians 2:3, 12) This concern followed him back through Macedonia
until he is finally assured that the local church has bounced back in a godly
way from his words. “Even if I caused you
sorrow by my letter, I do not regret it. Though I did regret it—I see that my
letter hurt you, but only for a little while—yet now I am happy, not because
you were made sorry, but because your sorrow led you to repentance. For you
became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed… .” (II Corinthians 7:8-9).
Just a few years ago, the
word “bouncebackability” was added to a new edition of the Oxford English
Dictionary – and I have never had the ability to bounce back from it, since
resilience has an identical meaning with the added perquisite of being an
accepted, real word. I can recognize that, in Christ, Paul was able to
bounce back from his own anxiety over his correction to the Corinthians.
Helping him, I’m sure, was the Holy Spirit allowing him to discern that It had
inhabited his words, and they reaped healing. But that is perhaps the challenge
of operating in discernment, or any spiritual gift: knowing when to properly
use it, and having to wait in faith for your spirit-directed actions to bear
fruit.
Maybe like Paul, when we
bounce back from second-guessing ourselves our faith is restored and rewarded.
But it’s also good to make sure we bounce back in God, not in ourselves, and
remember where to place our confidence.
Written by: Chad Halcom
Edited by: De Ann Sturdivant
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