A Public Confession

I was recently interviewed. I don’t know if it was the mood I was in, the way the questions were asked, or my uncertainty if anyone would ever even see the finished product, but I told the whole truth.

Spoiler alert: My kryptonite is anger and I hide it by telling myself it’s a noble emotion.

Because it is.

Until it isn’t.

The truth is that Jesus died for people who killed Him and I’ve cut off people who disagree with me.

Can we let that hang for a second?

You can read my full answer below. And check out the full interview here: https://raptinterviews.com/features/allison-sullivan?format=amp

QUESTION #3: CONFESS

Every superhero has a weakness. Every human, too. We’re just good at faking it. But who are we kidding? We’re broken and in this thing together. So what’s your kryptonite and how do you hide it?

I have some really impressive muscles built from the grudges I've carried. I know that's normal, but I think I may be better at it than you.

As friends, family, community members, co-workers, people trying our best, people stuck in traffic, we often run into each other leaving bumps and bruises. Frustration, hurt, anger—it's all normal. But remembering the ref who missed the flagrant foul three years ago and not returning his friendly nod at the grocery store probably isn't.

When something hurts, I fight for myself. If justice is overlooked, I will flip tables. I've let my anger, that at first might be righteous, turn indulgent.

Bitterness can gnaw, rage can churn, and angry thoughts can pile up until there isn’t room for much else except that clutching emotion that robs me of sleep while I rehearse conversations where I am eloquently victorious. Tossing and turning and delivering justice with my sharp tongue and excellent points—If I'm not careful, this can become my happy place.

I might fight for what I know is right, win, and then settle into the feeling of having been justified like it is a cozy sweater. I bet a sneaky enemy would rejoice in having me think that is the exact definition of peace—fighting, winning, and then being smugly justified.

It's ironic, isn't it? Fighting like hell for peace. All while trying to follow as closely as I can to a man who laid himself out.

My faith life isn't limited to just me and God. While that would be nice, I'm called into communion and connectivity. I'm commanded to give mercy. It might be easy to extend compassion to those whom I enjoy; it might be easy to extend grace to those who ask for it. That can be simple. Even fun! But it's not the assignment. Because what about those who don’t ask for it? What about those who won't? What then?

I might think I resemble Jesus turning over tables in a holy uproar, but realistically I'm far more like Peter—recklessly lopping off ears.

Loving my enemies doesn’t just sound hard to me, it sounds impossible. I don't think I'll ever get it right. And the truth, the honest-to-God truth, is that I'm not even sure I want to.

Dear God, help me to want what you want.