Anger

I was angry. My dad was angry. I doubt he knew it. He ground his teeth down to stubs. He had a bleeding ulcer. He threw things. He slammed things. I learned from a master. If I had to be like a parent, and in reality we most always do, then I would be like my dad.

So I boiled. I baked. I steamed. I broke things. Small things. Big things. I could pop a pencil in two really fast. I broke a microwave door once. I'm not embarrassed by that anymore. It's part of my distant past.

So in what other way did God draw me to him?

When the kids were older children or early teens, I heard someone use the verse about the sins of the fathers being visited on the next seven generations. I heard seven. Maybe they said seven.

Here's the actual Scripture: (Exodus 34:6-7) - "Then the Lord passed by in front of him and proclaimed, "The Lord, the Lord God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth; 7who keeps lovingkindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression and sin; yet He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations."

These verses really bothered me and I didn't know why. I mulled over them. I didn't know why I couldn't put them down. They bothered me for a long time. It just didn't seem fair that we were held responsible for the things our parents or grandparents did. But the reality is that some sins are reflected in a vicious cycle. Now you probably know the what & why that I didn't. I hadn't given everything to God. I held my anger like a badge. I deserved to be angry! BUT I had to give it up. It had to be sacrificed at his feet, in his name, and for his glory. If my desire was to please him. If I wanted my children not to bear the scars that I have, then it had to stop. I claim victory. AND he gives victory!