After further review, I have determined that I am the most terrible person in the world or at least in the lumberyard. Let me explain.
I read my thoughts about games and grandsons just a few minutes ago. In fact, I read them aloud to them. They were not overly impressed. But perhaps I was more impressed by the whole thing.
Here I sit, complaining about preteens and young teens acting their age, quoting Ephesians 4:31-32 in a most superior manner. Then I start reflecting on my own thoughts. The weather this winter has been dreadful. That is true. But does that justify me in getting grumpy and grouchy about it? Penny did pour out a perfectly good bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper. Wasteful? Yes. Worthy of my irritation? No. My grandsons do react badly to video game reverses, but that doesn’t give me just cause to react badly to them.
As I sat here, repenting of my comment that “there was nothing decent to eat for breakfast”–since Penny just produced biscuits and gravy–Matthew 7:4-5 popped into my mind:
Why do you look at the splinter in your brother’s eye but don’t notice the beam of wood in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the splinter out of your eye,’ and look, there’s a beam of wood in your own eye? Hypocrite! First take the beam of wood out of your eye, and then you will see clearly to take the splinter out of your brother’s eye.
Now, the sun is coming out and the snow seems to be ending. My grandkids have calmed themselves and will be going home soon. My stores of Diet Dr. Pepper are utterly gone, but I really don’t need to drink that stuff anyway. If my relationship with Christ is really a complete game changer, then it ought to change how I deal with games and everything else in my snow-bound day. I can’t pretend that there’s not a beam of lumber with my name on it.