Suffocating Beauty

I sat among the crowd of Christians gathered in such a beautiful place for one of the happiest of occasions, and what I saw broke my heart. What is this heaviness that brings division, that entertains strife, that wounds the weak, and that embitters the believer? The spirit of offense. It was written upon their countenances, carried upon their backs, and entangled in their conversations. Darkness has begun to overtake the Light, and my heart aches for resolution, for restoration, for revival. My eyes race across the faces looking for a flicker of hope, an authentic smile, or a shred of peace. I search for the familiar faces that have withstood so many battles, but even these have grown weary and show signs of defeat. How has this foul spirit of offense taken root here – here among the people that I love and respect, people who know better?


I can't help but think about that dewberry vine, the one among the azalea bushes, the Shasta daisies, the periwinkles, and the marigolds. I noticed it one warm afternoon as I rushed by the flower bed. I took a moment to pluck it from the bed, but the thistle pricked my finger, so I left it until I had a chance to get my gloves. It was a busy season, and I had much to do, too much to worry with finding my gloves. Yet every time I passed that bed, I noticed the vine was growing, getting stronger. Neglect.

It must have started as a small offense—something small and insignificant—something that was pushed away, ignored, and possibly even temporarily forgotten in the busyness of the season. Still, the roots are there and under the surface where others may not see it, it continues to grow. Sometimes it is just easier to let offenses go. We can postpone that uncomfortable confrontation to avoid the pricking of our flesh that brings the blood and the tears, where others see our weakness, our hurt, our humanity. So we leave it. Yes, we neglect it; and underneath the soil, the roots get stronger, and they grow.

That vine. That stubborn dewberry vine. By the time I remembered to find my gloves and attempted to pluck the vine, it was sprouting everywhere—all over the bed. I plucked, and I pulled, and I plucked, and I pulled. It was entangled in the roots of the flowers and the bushes. It seemed to be a never ending job and a losing battle. Some of the roots were just too strong, and I was running out of daylight. Alas, I put away my tools and called it a completed task. In my heart, I knew remnants of the roots were still there, and I would need to fight this battle again.

Offense confronted but not forgiven. Stubborn hearts, stubborn pride. It entangles itself in every good thing. It sprouts in the places of sunlight and the places of shade. The sprouts draw our attention, sometimes demanding confrontation, so we confront with gloves on or gloves off, and we remove the visible evidence. However, the root, that nasty spirit of offense, is a battle that is deeper, more difficult. It often requires too much time and too much energy. As long as we can’t see it and others can’t see it, we can avoid the bigger battle that continues to grow beneath the surface wreaking havoc among the roots of beauty.

Tragic how it suffocates the beauty. The unattended roots grew more sprouts. This time it was as if they grew with a vengeance, so quickly and so plentiful. They grew when I wasn’t looking, when I wasn’t paying attention, when I was distracted with other things. Then one day, I looked for the beauty, but the beauty wasn’t there. The garden should be full of beautiful blooms of the season, but something was wrong. The marigolds, the periwinkles, and my favorites – the Shasta daisies had all succumbed to the strength of the neglected vine. Even the azalea bushes had lost the battle with the vine.

I’ve seen it happen so many times. Sadly, I have even been a part of it, participated in it; truth is that I've even initiated it at times. I have offended, and I have been offended. I have ignored the offense. I have neglected the offense, tried to push it back, clip off the visible sprouts so no one else can see the ugly. Still it’s there. The root of offense continued to grow. I’ve seen people leave churches because of it. I’ve seen churches split because of it. I’ve seen thriving ministries destroyed because of it. I’ve watched as the spirit of offense has suffocated all of the beauty that surrounds it. I have witnessed joy turn into sorrow, goodness become wicked, temperance give way to indulgence, peace submit to chaos, faith yield to fear, gentleness surrender to tactlessness, longsuffering forfeit to unforgiveness, kindness replaced with cruelty, and love… well, to be honest, in offense, there is no love because love doesn’t offend, neither is it offended. So that’s it. That is how it started.

It wasn’t the root of the vine, the sprout of the vine, or even the seed of the vine that destroyed my garden. I destroyed it. I neglected it. I was supposed to protect it, guard it, tend it, and nurture it. Instead, I let the enemy come in when I wasn’t paying attention, when I was too busy with other things, too complacent to nurture the beauty and protect it from the ugly. I was selfish.

Selfish. Isn’t that what offending others and being offended is all about? Selfish. Isn’t that what we are when we step outside of love? Selfish is the offender. Selfish is the offendee. And selfish are all the offenders and offendees that sprout from the root. I am not pointing a finger. Like I said, I’ve been all of the above – the offender, the offendee, the sprout that carried someone else’s offense. I have been the ugliest of the ugly. It is embarrassing. I know. That’s pride.

I guess I’m just tired of seeing the beauty destroyed. I’m tired of seeing the enemy win with offenses that lead to unforgiveness and bitterness. I’m tired of seeing the Gospel fall victim to the selfishness of those that claim to know it. Look around. There is a lost and dying world around us. If we can’t LOVE each other, then how can we LOVE the lost?

For all those who I have offended, I am sorry. I am sorry for my selfishness. I’m sorry that I was too complacent and wrapped up in my own agenda and my own opinions that I failed to nurture and protect the beauty of LOVE – authentic, unconditional LOVE.

To those who have offended me, I am sorry for my selfishness. I am sorry that my mind was so me- focused that I allowed myself to step outside of the safety of LOVE – unfailing, unending LOVE.

To the offendees who think their holding onto offense is justified, LOVE never fails. It never fails to forgive. If you want to experience the beauty, you have to step into LOVE. Then nurture it. Protect it. Tend it. For through it beauty grows.