The Apostle Paul once said (and I’m paraphrasing), “I know what I’m supposed to do, but I don’t do it. I do the things I shouldn’t do, and I don’t do the things I should.”
For most of my life, I assumed he was talking about holiness — about failing to pray enough, missing a tithe, working on the Sabbath, neglecting scripture. In other words, I thought Paul was beating himself up for not living a perfectly pious life.
Only recently did I realize that wasn’t it at all. Paul wasn’t talking about religious ritual — he was talking about love. About Christ’s greatest commandment: Love God. Love each other.
I’ve written before about how my default setting is discontentment. When I feel wronged, I naturally lean toward bitterness and resentment. I know I’m called to offer love and grace, yet time and again I fall back into anger and revenge. There’s a momentary satisfaction in “getting even,” but it never lasts. In the end, it only leaves regret.
What’s funny is that I’ve never once regretted choosing kindness. Every time I’ve responded to cruelty with compassion, I’ve walked away lighter. When I manage to quiet my ego and lead with love, I win — every single time.
Paul understood this too. He knew what brought him peace: love, kindness, patience. And he knew what robbed him of it: anger, bitterness, resentment. Yet even he found himself choosing the latter more often than he wanted.
In recovery, we call this progress, not perfection — learning, one decision at a time, to choose love over ego, grace over resentment, peace over pride.
Turns out Paul and I have a lot in common.
