Nope. I’m not supposed to feel any of those emotions. They belong to Satan.
But, dang. I sure blew it. Epic fail.
The sad soul who’s been squatting in my brother’s basement for, oh, maybe 17 years, was smoking. Sad soul didn’t know I was in the house.
He’d promised my and my brother’s dad that he would never smoke in the house. For one, it’s the landlord’s rule. And secondly, cig smoke is bad for people with diabetes, which my brother has.
When I smelled smoke I walked partway down stairs, sat and turned into a she-devil. I yelled at Sad Soul at the top of my lungs. He knows I’m Christian. He knows for sure I’m a hypocrite, just as he has been accusing Christians of being.
I’m so disgusted that I personified his stereotype of the worst of the church.
Sad Soul needs help. I handed him a shovel to dig his hole deeper rather than the gift of grace.
Should I tell Dad that Sad Soul broke his promise? Should I put Sad Soul on the phone with Dad and let Sad Soul decide if he wants to confess? Should just keep this between me and Sad Soul?
I pray and pray. I will apologize next time I see Sad Soul.
God help me. Fill me with your Holy Spirit all the time.
