When I Correct

 

When I Correct

     As a Godly man of fifty-five years old, being an elder and an overseer in a local congregation having his walking with God in excess of forty years, I maintain the right to correct as needed.  If I see error, I suffer patiently for a right time to address the issue.  However, something pulls at this reasoning of mine.  I am a bipolar man and my tendency to anger has been documented by hospitals.

     So where is the balance?  I am troubled and unsure lacking confidence and even a good night’s sleep that I have corrected in accordance to the severity of the problem.  Am I entering into a hypomanic state?  Will the tell-tale signs emerge have as they have done in the past?  Will this be the start of the proverbial snowball rolling down the hill gathering momentum and mass as it treks?  Will I artistically become more obscure not relating and growing in confusion?

     I am not called to a thick skin.  I listen.  Called to be an assistant pastor, my care is to be known.  Understanding leading to compassion should lie about my eyelids, not anger in frustration alarming the ones to whom they are focused upon.

     So, I turn to this blog to get my thoughts on page hoping a revelation will unveil itself as I type.  Ephesians chapter 2 was the read this morning.  It reassured me some are truly children of wrath.  Yet as Abraham walked amongst the Canaanites, even so I must grow in wisdom and stature before men as Jesus.  I am to have a good reputation with those on the outside lest I fall into the same reproach of the devil I think. 

     My mind churns and I try to fixate upon today.  This matter of raising my voice scares me because I am a man walking in authority.  Authority of respect given yet it takes one fly to spoil the ointment, and I do not want to put out tainted butter upon the counter.

     Please pray for me.  I can get loud.  I can get directive.  I know how to focus my voice to overcome the impedance of standing air.  In the Air Force, I learned the call.  I learned the authoritative sound that stands hair on the back of one's neck.  I can invoke fear.  I don’t want to make it a habit.  Please help me, God.     

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