Letting Go by Cecil Murphey

Source: Unknown

Just before I left Kenya after serving there as a missionary for six years, another missionary “stretched” some things I told her in confidence. She carried the stories to Bud, the head of our organization. Bud and I had strong words on the night our plane left.

I felt misunderstood and betrayed. Making the situation worse, Bud repeated those stories to a number of African leaders. Even though I prayed regularly to forgive them, I built up a grudge.

Years passed before I could release the pain.

Most of us have those types of experiences of being deeply hurt and holding on to the agonizing emotions. Once we can finally forgive, internal peace fills our hearts.

Most of us also experience another kind of letting go—releasing the nostalgic joys of what used to be. They remain powerful in our memories, which make us unable to move in new directions.

My late wife, Shirley, has now been dead for six years. I’ve dated a few times since then, but I realized I wasn’t ready to let go of the relationship with Shirley. I thought of her every day and often spoke to her (even though I don’t believe she was able to hear me).

A few weeks ago, I had a dream in which we held hands, but she seemed to be floating upward and away from me. She smiled, released my hand, and disappeared.

After I awakened, I knew I had finally let go. That freed me from the sentimental-but-joyful past. These days, I feel a deep peace that says I’m open to whatever new adventures life has in store for me.

Letting go—releasing the joy or the pain—is part of our growth.

Cecil Murphey is a Christian author, speaker and teacher.

The Inner Critic

All of us have an accusing voice - a nagging, troublesome conscience or tormenting memories. As one friend said, “We know the voice and it’s with us every day. That inner censor makes its presence known repeatedly - especially when we’re in a low spot.”

Too often we listen and sink even lower, thereby endowing that detractor with the power to steal our joy and rob us of peace. Our self-faultfinder thrives in our tender places - those vulnerable spots and uncertainties. It’s where we store our shame and embarrassments.

In recent years, I’ve learned to rise above that condemnation.

First, I talk to the judgmental voice. Instead of fighting it, I say, “Yes, I failed to...” or “I’m still embarrassed over...”

Second, I remind myself that God forgives me, no matter what I’ve done (or didn’t do). I say, “God has forgiven me, so you don’t have to keep tormenting me.” Then I add, “Besides that, I forgive Cec.”

Third, I say to my inner critic, “Thank you for reminding me and, with God’s help, I won’t fail in that area again.”

Recently, I spoke harshly to a friend and immediately apologized. That sneaky voice whispered, “You failed at this before. Remember?”

I laughed and said, “I distinctly remember forgetting. Besides, Psalm 103:12 reads, ‘As far as the east is from the west, so far has he removed our transgressions from us.’ That means it’s gone and you can’t bring it up again.”

I honestly do it that way. Maybe it won’t work for you, but it might be worth trying.

Written by Cecil Murphey - Writer | Speaker | Teacher | Survivor

Holiday Struggles

"But our family always celebrates on Christmas Eve," Ann insisted. "That’s the way we’ve always done it." She explained that her three siblings, who lived in different cities, had already made travel plans. "And Christmas is the only time I get to see my baby brother because he lives so far away from us."

Curtis shook his head. "That’s the problem. Christmas Eve is when my family does our big celebration. Our tradition goes back to the time when my grandfather was a boy during the Great Depression. . ." For perhaps a minute he explained the plans his side of the family had already made to come together.

"We don’t know what to do," Ann said. The couple had married six months earlier when Christmas was far from their thoughts. "Everything else in our lives seems settled except this."  

At the time, I was their pastor and I had heard the story before. How could they possibly please both sides of the family? Neither of them thought about the family conflict until the middle of November.

"Now what are we going to do?" Curtis said. "I don’t want to hurt my parents and Ann doesn’t want to disappoint hers." As he explained, both families planned a big meal and celebration on Christmas Eve. The one factor that differed was that Ann’s family met at 5:30 and Curtis’s didn’t start until 7:00.

They resolved the immediate crisis by going to Ann’s family, eating a big dinner and leaving a few minutes after seven. They arrived late for Curtis’s family gathering. They groaned over having to eat two huge meals.

"We’ve got to do something different next year," Ann said.

"Yeah, I wish we’d thought about it before." They decided to talk to both families to see if they could figure out something so they wouldn’t get caught in such a bind the next year.

Just before they left, Curtis asked me, "Did you ever have that problem in your family?"

I smiled because we hadn’t encountered that problem. By the time our children reached the marriage stage, I figured out that the holy season was a time of good cheer and happiness but it could also become a time of stress, especially when it came to family traditions.

After our oldest child, Wanda, married, we told her and her siblings that we had made one decision about observing the holiday period. "Go to your in-laws first. Honor their tradition. We’ll take the left-over time."

By the time all three of our children married, it gave them hassle-free permission to take care of their in-law obligations first. For us, it meant that some years we’ve celebrated Christmas three days early or two days late.

A few times I felt lonely on Christmas Day, wishing we had gotten together as we had when they were children. I reminded myself, "Nobody knows exactly when Jesus was born. So does a specific day on the calendar make a difference?" Even without that reminder, I knew we had done the right thing because it avoided forcing our children to decide which side of the family to please. That decision has worked for thirty plus years.

Sometimes I do things right. That was one of those times.

by Cecil Murphey

TAKEN FROM CECIL MURPHEY'S NEWSLETTER | DEC 2009