The full title of this blog really should be:

Reconciliation: Thoughts on Preemptive strikes; Being at peace with all men; mercy & maturity; & disposable friendships.

But, you know, that'd just be a mouthful (fingerful?) in the title bar. Besides, I think there's a word limit up there, so here I sit, at 2am, thinking about the concept of reconciliation, Romans 12:12 and how to respond when it's been made clear you're disposable. There's a lot of reasons this is rolling through my mind right now, not one situation or another, but it's been a heavy burden on my heart for a few months.

Recently, I spoke with my mom - the wisest woman I know - about how I had felt a recent urge to make an attempt to reconcile with someone who I'd once been close with. The person was genuinely one of my closest friends, and it turned into something far uglier than I'd ever imagined it could have. And let me tell you, it stung. I'd made attempts to reconcile before, apologizing for whatever wrongs were mine, attempting to make peace and offer an olive branch at least once. It was all a no-go. Turns out, my friendship was as disposable as a paper bag - but certainly not as eco-friendly. Regardless, I had felt prompted to try to offer another olive branch recently, and when I did so, I discovered - to my shock, hurt and quite saddened heart - that there had been a "preemptive strike" against reconciliation.

Perhaps in anticipation of such an olive branch, this former friend had managed to not allow me access. Let me carefully clarify that this friend knows my heart, they know the incredible betrayals I've walked through of rejection, broken friendships and relationships, the damage it does to my heart to be thrown out in the garbage can. They know my story. I shared with this friend pieces of my heart that was withheld from nearly everyone else on the planet. So it was more than hurtful to know that apparently it was pre-determined that this friend would no longer have anything to do with me. I probably should have guessed it by the last email that stated in no uncertain terms "I don't need you, as I have other friends." Might as well have told me to go jump off a cliff, really.

I took a few steps back to gain some perspective, seek lots of Jesus, and hopefully come back in a way that reflects a mature response, offering love and mercy. But ya know, sometimes love and mercy isn't even enough. And personally, I hold no grudge, I am just as baffled at this moment as I was when the whole thing began. But in my lifetime, I've learned that there is usually no explanation ever offered when relationships explode.

Tonight, I went to the 7th week of the Breaking Free study by Beth Moore. And let me just state this now, this study has changed my life. I do not say that flippantly, however cliche the phrase "changed my life" might sound. This week, Beth spoke about rest. There was a lot that resonated with me, since just prior to my beginning this study, God led me off the worship team and out of service of nearly any kind and right into a season of rest for my soul. But something she said tonight really resonated with me. She stated that as a free person in Christ we need to be able to rest in having done everything we can to offer reconciliation to a person and find peace when even that is rejected. Did that ever spark something in my heart.

When I say I've been changed - I mean it. Because a year ago, a situation like this would have torn me apart. I would have obsessed about why the other person doesn't like me anymore, wonderd what I needed to do to gain their approval, fought tooth and nail to keep and maintain some semblence of communication. I would have cried myself to sleep over another lost friend, wallowed in sorrow for weeks and weeks over the disposable-ness of me, been bogged down in insecurity, and ultimately limped through the holiday season with regret and constantly wondering what I could have done differently. Don't misunderstand, my heart is still deeply gashed with the wounds of a once best friend, but I recognize God's sovereignty in my life and pray that one day reconciliation will occur, but if it doesn't, I know He's still good.

All in all, my heart aches for my friend and I miss this person in my life. Especially lately, as there are supremely good and happy things going on that I wish I could share. A song might come on the radio or I see something silly and there's a twinge in my heart where I wish I could pick up my phone and text them to tell them what I saw or heard. When a sweet song brings tears to my eyes, I wish I could call and tell them about it, because there was a time that tears were as foreign to me as distant galaxies. When I hear of the good things going on in their life via mutual friends or social media, I wish I could once again be a part of that. But for now, maybe God's appointed it to not be so. So, with a heart at rest in a God bigger than the waves of the world, I walk in freedom.

So, as the disposable friend with a preemptive strike against reconciliation set up, I think I'll just take the high road, and offer some mercy, knowing that there's a lot of reasons this friend put the bricks up between us. Someday, God might mend it, and it will be better and I will rejoice. Until then, I pray for God to continue to use pieces of this to teach me, mature me and teach me mercy.


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