Last weekend, I found myself in a situation that had me angrier than I’ve been in a long time. Someone had told a lie about me, a lie that had the potential to wreak havoc not only on my job but also on my eight-year-long journey toward ordination—a journey I’ve been committed to since 2016. I’ve poured my heart, soul, and countless hours into this calling, and the thought that one person’s falsehood could threaten all of that was infuriating. I’m grateful, though, that I’ve kept those in authority over me informed about everything, so if the lie was meant to derail my ministry, it won’t succeed. But that didn’t stop the anger from boiling over. I was so mad that I started thinking about taking matters into my own hands and getting back at the person who wronged me. It wasn’t just anger; it was the kind of rage that could have led me to derail my ministry myself if I let it take hold.
I went to bed Saturday night still seething, with my mind full of plans for how to make this person pay. When I woke up Sunday morning, the anger was still as intense as before. Typically, my Sunday morning routine is pretty simple: I make some coffee and sit down to read my devotional. It’s a grounding practice that helps me start the day centered, even when I’m not dealing with a crisis. Now, let me tell you, I write these devotionals about two months in advance, so by the time they’re published, I don’t always remember what I wrote. It’s like reading something new, like everyone else who follows along.
Well, that Sunday morning, I opened up my devotional, and wouldn’t you know it? The title staring back at me was The Wisdom of Silence . It stopped me dead in my tracks. Here I was, all fired up and ready to unleash a storm, and God was reminding me of the power of holding my tongue, of choosing silence over vengeance. Suddenly, all those plans I had made to confront the person who lied, to set the record straight in a way that would hurt them as much as they hurt me, just vanished. In His infinite wisdom, God had known two months ago that I would need this very word at this exact moment.
The anger didn’t only begin to ease, but I also knew without a doubt that God was speaking to me. He was reminding me that I preach regularly about the limits of our control. We can’t manage what others do or say, but we have complete control over how we respond. And sometimes, the best response is no response at all—just stepping back, letting God handle the situation, and trusting that He’s got everything under control. That’s a hard lesson to learn when you’re right in the middle of a situation that feels so unfair and unjust, but it’s one of the most important lessons we can hold on to.
As I sat there, the anger was replaced by a sense of peace that only comes from surrendering the situation to God. I realized that God’s timing is perfect, even when we can’t see it. He knew I would be facing this challenge and provided exactly what I needed to hear, exactly when I needed to hear it. Moments like these remind me of how great God is—not just in grand, miraculous ways but in quiet, personal moments where He meets us right where we are.
The devotional that morning was a reminder of God’s unwavering presence in our lives. He sees what’s coming, even when we don’t. He knows the struggles we’ll face, and He equips us with the wisdom and strength to handle them. It’s a humbling experience to realize that, while I was busy planning my own form of justice, God had already planned a way to bring me back to Him, to remind me of His power and His grace.
In the end, I don’t need to say a word to the person who lied about me. I don’t need to take any action to defend myself. God had already taken care of it. And I believe He’ll continue to take care of it in ways I can’t even begin to imagine. I’m reminded again of the truth that God is always in control and that His ways are far better than anything I could come up with on my own. So, as I move forward, I’m holding on to that lesson, grateful for the reminder that God’s got this, and He’s got me too.