I haven't dealt much with hate in my life until recently. Of course, there's always been folks I didn't like or didn't want to spend time with, but the kind of loathing, have to leave the room, keep you awake at night aversion-- well, that's new to me. It's been so bad, I haven't been able to write about it. It was so bad that for two or three weeks, I didn't even partake of communion at church.
A friend of mine recently said that, in your 30's, you start seeing people's true colors and many disappoint you. That's certainly been true these last couple of months.
A few Sundays ago at church, the lesson was on the Good Samaritan. The speaker made the point that often when we read the story, we compare ourselves to the Levite or the Priest who passed the beaten man on the side of the road, but what we should be realizing is we are the guy who was left for dead. Very compelling, and I agree.
But this thought plagued me then and has been plaguing me ever since: how do you deal with the people who gave their "neighbor" a beat-down, stole his money and left him to die naked in a ditch? What about those people?
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