C.S. Humble

Since my intellectual conception of my own selfish nature I have continually asked the question, “What is broken within me,” I know I am broken in some way, if it were not so I would not deal with a boiling anger that is often unwarranted in the situations that it most hastily arises. And anger is a dangerous thing, like a blade without a sheath, one carries it here and there and when the mind slips in remembering that it must be extra careful, the blade falls out of the hands and injures those we love most. For how can one hand out grace and mercy if he is constantly looking for a place to swing his sword about?

But the vorpal thing is ever clinging to my hands and just when I believe that I am free of that hungry thing; that the blade cuts most deeply. Few things are more dangerous than a false sense of accomplished discipline. Not only does the mind forget to hold the blade with great care, but also it will wield the sword proudly, displaying it for all who will stare at the sharpness of the edge or the beauty of the crafting. Teachers will teach to harness the anger, use it to one’s benefit. But those teachers are not the Christ-man, who teaches our masses to sell the sword of anger for gold pieces of mercy and then we are told to give that gold to those who have known many swords and very few gold pieces.

But how can I sell the sword that I have used for so very long to cope with the insecurities and injustices that I have or have done. Anger is the easy tool, the ship that needs no sails and the loaded die that will always land on the right number. There is honest glory in using one’s hands as tools, finding the winds of change to press oneself onward on the torrent waves and using the fair and just path. That is what the choice of mercy and love entail, many hours of hard work and a clean heart that needs not look back at the wickedness done; rather it looks onward to the new opportunities love has provided.

So for the sake of my soul, I must put away this anger. Slide my weapon of wrath into the sheath of love. For when the blade rests there, it can be transformed into a thing of justice rather than anger. And may the Lord of Light and Grace transform that blade into a thing of righteousness. May the world never again see a wrath from me, for such imperfect judgment should never wield such a horror.

Once I have tamed that dreaded thing, perhaps then I can trade it for a more eternal gold.