She was young and beautiful, brimming with dreams and hope. She was the king’s daughter who fell hopelessly in love with a boy, equally young and handsome, the son of …, well, just a citizen. Her hopeless love leaked out and the first arrow was shot, by no other than the man who should have protected her tender heart. The king used her love to tame a threat to his kingdom. She did not mind because she loved the young lad but there also came the most fatal arrow: to him, she was just a conquest of war, a proof of the valor of a boy who craved the honors of manhood. Yet, she loved him no less.
When death hung over his head, she put her life on the stake to save him and lied to save hers. Down the window, closest to her heart, she let him down and let him go – that’s what they said – let love go and it will come back to you, right? As he ran toward safety and dominion, she remained by that window, watching for his return. She saw nothing but she heard lots: he sent for everyone and everything dear to him. He even fell for and took in other women. Then the truth she has avoided all these years sadly began to dawn: that she was nothing but a pawn in the game of power between him and her murderous father. Yet, she waited for him no less.
Times changed, things happened and life swept her into the arms of a man that for once, truly adored her and would not exploit her. For once, she was served love and safety she didn’t have to concoct. She was settled forever or so she thought until the boy who had turned not only a man but a king, sent again, not for a woman to love, but for the proof of his boyhood conquest. Without a care, she was snatched from the only one, the only place she ever felt loved and safe and returned, a prisoner in the palace. And there she pined.
It seemed the arrows she has tried to live without, could no longer live without her. She employed every formula for survival; hid behind walls and avoided what others embraced, still she could not escape the taunting reality that she was loved the least by the one she loved the most. She could no longer forgive and she would not forget. Thus, the root of bitterness sank deep and that once beautiful girl grew into a deformed and defamed angry old woman: forsaken and forgotten. They judged her, condemned her but nobody knew, nobody cared and nobody discerned the crippling weight that little girl had to bear until she had lost all that made her youthful and buoyant. Until the woman buried the hopes and dreams of the girl.
She felt justified to resent the cause of her many sorrows: the symbol of her rejection, the ever-present stamp of her greatest disappointment. But God did not spare her resentment. It was not about the man: about what he did and continued to do. It was about her heart: bitterness does more harm to the one that harbors it.
As I prayed through her story this morning, I saw through my journey, the many locations I could have turned a Michal… but His nearness helped me to forgive the things I couldn’t on my own, and to press on. His nearness brought healing that helped me scale past traps that tripped poor Michal and I woke up today: grateful and thankful. Your journey may not be like Michal’s but it has had its up and downs. Let us be thankful for all we have been served and all the gains God brought out of our pains. Let us resolve to always apply forgiveness in generous quantities and to never have anything to do with that deformative root of bitterness, so help us God. Amen.
Blessings
Glory!
(Drawn from 1 Samuel 14:49, 1 Samuel 18:12-29, 1 Samuel 19:1-17, 2 Samuel 6:20-23.
Dedicated to Vernadine Schatzline: thank you for being the vessel for this revelation.)