I yelled at someone last week. As I watched a tow truck about to plow over the front of our relatively new car it was easy to let my emotions get the best of me. I'm not proud of my reaction. In fact, I'm sure if I could have watched the instant replay I would have apologized right away.
I said a string of words I wouldn't repeat in front of my mom as I slammed the car in reverse to avoid being side-swiped. In a fit of rage I jumped out of the car, threw my hands in the air, and yelled, "What are you doing, man! You were about to hit my car!" The driver mumbled something about watching his mirrors, but I was deaf in my anger.
There I was, the guy who writes about "belief, relationships, and personal growth from a position of hope" on a weekly basis, fuming and shouting in a gas station parking lot. I get on my high horse about the "words of my mouth" just to fall straight into the mud of my vitriol.
I remember being a young child when I discovered James 3:10, "Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be." I even rebuked my own mother once with that one.
I don't remember what she said (I'm sure it wasn't actually bad), but I made sure she knew what God thought about it. I wrote that verse on a small piece of paper and gave it to her in a tiny container. She has it to this day.
I tell you about my tirade simply to point out one fact--I don't have this thing figured out. I'm trying. I'm learning. But sometimes I'm just the hypocrite screaming outside of his car.
I would like to say I apologized on the spot. I didn't. By the time I calmed down it was too late. Sure, the guy might have been careless. Maybe he would have hit me. Maybe not. Either way, he didn't. I unleashed the brunt of my judgment and fury, anyway, though.
In the words of one of my favorite bands, The Rocket Summer, "I wanna say I'll never do it again, but I can't, but I will try."
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