Sheathing the Sword

Most of the time, I am calm in situations that might cause others to panic. This is most likely due to a comfort level that has grown from careful study and practice for those situations. On occasion, events conspire to put me in the place of discomfort and trial. At these times, I just might get sharp, snippy, sarcastic, or just plain mean.

This past week has been one of those weeks. Making too many plans, working too hard, sleeping too little, praying less than seriously.
The other day I  found myself at a table of church people, and we had just been asked by our Bishop to discuss several questions. Most of our group appeared to be satisfied with talking about other things, but one person appointed him/herself to be moderator, and, interrupting the pleasant conversations, this person started trying to get us to answer the assigned questions. At the onset, our moderator let everyone know where he/she was coming from. A self described liberal with different views from those people in the Diocese of South Carolina, (sort of like saying, "Some of my best friends are from there..") his/her soft spoken sweetness very early on started to take me out of my comfort zone. During his/her discussion about how wonderful it was that +Waldo was welcoming of diversity of opinion, someone pointed out to him that there was, in fact, a person of diverse opinion, a "conservative," at the table. Guess who that might have been? After that, eyes and comments seemed to become increasingly directed towards your lowly sleep deprived pewster. Some of these comments, while innocuous sounding to most "liberal" or "moderate" church goers, grated like sandpaper on my ears. When the "conversation" got to the point of becoming a one-handed love fest over how wonderful it was to pay taxes, and that this somehow justified how our diocese sends $418,181 in taxes to T.E.c. in spite of the need to trim $200,000 from the diocesan budget (which several missions were bemoaning), I felt that our moderator must not be allowed to go on unchallenged, after all, he/she was in the discernment process and needed to experience a little "diversity." Despite all my study and practice in listening to these people, I could feel my right hand reaching to draw out my sword and go on the attack. I had forgotten that neither verbal arguments, jousting, or open battle will ever help this type to change their world view. Like the chemically dependant, they have to hit rock bottom, in this case by sending money to 815, before they can even begin to see the need to change.

On this occasion, I could not stop myself from taking a few swipes at the ear of my "moderator." While I may have felt that I was just tilting at windwills at the time, later on he/she did move to another table.

I am sorry, Lord. I thought I was defending you from the sweet kiss of a so-called friend. Now I understand that you do not need my sword.

That type makes its own rope.
Why You let the Church drain the life from itself, I cannot fathom.

Must the Church die in this way in order to be reborn?

I will sheath my sword, but I still left wondering why your followers have swords to begin with. 

Let your Church's ear be healed.