I write for therapy. It soothes my soul to put words to the gnarled thoughts and anxieties that pop around in my brain. Things get stuck for me sometimes, like a pinball that has found that perfect spot between the bumpers. Stuff pings back and forth, mostly unpleasant memories, moments I wish I could take back or fits of anger flash in short bursts of light and obnoxious noise. I am a score keeper. As I try to get through the agonies and annoyances of life, batting at balls with with flippers that are almost enough to keep things going, I am keeping score and remembering the faces of the folks who have wronged me. It is nothing if not exhausting and pointless. Pointless score keeping. How is that for irony? I can recite chapter and verse on the topic of biblical forgiveness. I know that God's forgiveness of me and my sins is my model for forgiving others. Love covers a multitude of sins. How many times should I forgive someone? Seventy times seven. What does...
Musing of a mostly sane, perfectly saved and yet entirely flawed bible believing woman and biblical counselor.