Arguments

Arguments. Why is it that we feel compelled to argue sometimes?

I love my family very much, but sometimes I feel the need to pick a fight just to pick one. I blame my three brothers for this. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away….I had three brothers who drove me crazy. Being the perfect child, I thought it would be a good idea to offer advice on their various activities. For some unknown reason, they did not acknowledge the authority I carried. It could be the way I shook my fists in their faces (My daughters call them “the Irish fists of fury.” Where they got this name, I am not quite sure), or it could be that they were bigger than me. (I think the youngest brother finally capped out at 6’ 3” tall.) For whatever reason, they would ignore my suggestions, and then I would feel compelled to share their clandestine activities with the “parents.”

My fearlessness, for a time, was in part due to the fact that my brothers were not allowed in my room. When my authority and advice giving got to the point that they felt compelled to respond to my very reasonable suggestions, I would hightail it to my room and shut the door. If I didn’t get the door shut in time, then the moment they put one hairy toe over the threshold, I would scream for one of my parents, and they would shout, “Leave Robin alone.” It was a very successful system for a few years until we kids were left home without the parental blanket of safety that I, all unawares, had wrapped around me. Quite possibly, my brothers were conspiring together, waiting for that day.

As years went by, and I matured, it was amazing how smart they became.

As years went by, and I matured, it was amazing how smart they became. Not because they listened to me, of course, or because they learned anything at school. It was because they became teenagers. Need I say more? It was then that they decided that they wouldn’t listen to my guidance anymore (shocking, I know). Oh sure, they hadn’t reacted to the “Irish Fists of Fury” for a long time, but to totally ignore the wealth of wisdom they had at their fingertips just boggled my mind. I had so much to offer, but it was like I was a gnat buzzing around them, and they just ignored me with the occasional swat. It was quite a blow to my ego.

Time heals all wounds…

As they say, though, time heals all wounds. Nowadays, my brothers don’t annoy me quite so much. And although I am still the favorite (at least that’s what I keep telling myself), we’ve become friends. Funny how those things happen. As a matter of fact, I’m quite proud of all three of them! (Don’t tell them because I have a reputation to uphold.)

When we become children of God, we soon discover we have a whole new set of family members with their own quirky personalities. This sometimes takes a great deal of adjustment. Scripture tells us that when we accept Christ as our Savior, we are adopted into His family. And though we may fight and disagree about many things here on earth—as children do—when we get to Heaven, those disagreements won’t matter anymore. I’m not going to go into what we will be doing in heaven. I may not be a theologian, but I’m confident that we won’t be sitting on clouds playing harps! How boring would that be? I don’t think we will be arguing about who is sitting in our seat, either, or what kind of music should be played during the Marriage Supper of the Lamb.

We are the family of God! Let’s set aside our dysfunction and focus on the blessings around us.  That’s what really matters!

In the meantime, God bless and keep you all!!

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