This mother was a sincere Christian, and her teenage daughter had been a continual object of her prayers. She could not get Betty to study, do a chore right, get along with her brother, or even eat properly. It was a mother-daughter battle, and it terribly distressed Mrs. Grant. “It’s been very trying, believe me,” she said. “In coming to you, I thought you might help.”

Probing for the cause of the festering trouble, I asked what her feelings were when Betty disobeyed her.

Impatience, anger, and resentment, she confessed. “But in spite of that,” she hastened to add, “I love my daughter very much. Don’t you think I’ve proved this by the torture I’ve been through in keeping to myself the irritation she causes me?”

I guess I shocked Mrs. Grant when I said, “Your bitter feelings toward Betty prove that you do not love her.”

“How can you say such a thing?” she cried. “Doesn’t it take love to carry a cross?”

I opened my Bible to 1 Corinthians 13 and pointed out God’s description of love: Love is kind … and longsuffering. Kindness and longsuffering are fruit of the Holy Spirit produced within the surrendered Christian, I pointed out.

“Hiding your impatience and resentment does not alter the fact that these are present in your heart,” I told her. “These are not the ingredients of love. These are products of our selfish nature. You may pretend to Betty—and to yourself—that they do not exist, but they do!”

Mrs. Grant was very surprised when I traced her anguish to her efforts to act loving rather than to be loving.

“Do you mean that Betty should be allowed to get away with what she does?” she demanded.

“Not at all,” I answered. “Your daughter’s behavior must be dealt with. But before you can deal with Betty, you must deal with your own inner spirit.”

It was months before Mrs. Grant could completely give up her conviction that if only Betty would behave, Mother would be her own sweet self again. It took some time also for her to understand that if she were truly to love Betty, the impatience and resentment would have to be replaced by patience, kindness, and gentleness.

“I’m not capable of patience,” she said desperately one day. “It is so hard to be kind.”

She was right. What was in her heart just naturally came out. But, I assured her, if she repented of her bitter heart, God was ready to help.

She finally dropped her defense and asked God to give her the love she lacked. She discovered God gives all the overflowing love He is asked for, and she could deal with Betty in love, whether or not her daughter responded.

Not surprisingly, Betty did respond and their home is now the happy Christian one it should be.

The names and certain details in this true case history have been changed to protect each person’s identity and privacy.

This twelve-year-old child, the oldest of six children, was faced with seeing the family broken up or assuming the responsibility of mother to her siblings. She assumed the responsibility and successfully managed to get through high school as well as take care of the family. Neighbors, teachers, church people, and the community helped. She kept the house and the children clean and neat, got everyone off to school, and made sure they went to church. Every Sunday the six of them marched down the aisle of the church, occupying the same pew. She received the admiration and affirmation of many for the fine, sacrificial job she did.

However, the girl deeply resented being placed in this position. She dreaded the dawning of every new day. This was her own little secret. She endured the task for seven years; then her father married again. She left home immediately, using the desire for higher education as the reason.

In her heart, she knew that she was laying down a task that she despised. The praise of people only served to make her miserable. She knew that this praise was undeserved, because she was hiding an intense hatred toward her father and her siblings. The deepest desire of her heart had always been to flee the task and be like other girls. Neither her speech nor her actions betrayed her secret. Her hatred for her brothers and sister spread to become hatred toward all children.

She married but refused to have children. Her husband could not understand. Her refusal had caused a deep rift in their marriage. At this point she decided that something must be done about her situation and she sought counseling.

Her story illustrates the emptiness, the misery, the loneliness of words and actions that are out of line with our desires and feelings. What looked like ministering to others was not what it appeared to be. This was not a labor of love; it was a labor of resentment and deceitfulness. Her life was a lie. When you compliment someone like that, you heap coals of fire on her head. For this woman a change of heart was a repentant prayer away.

Proverbs 28:13 says, “He who covers his sins will not prosper, but whoever confesses and forsakes them will have mercy.”

You cannot cover your own sin. You must not only appear contented; you must also be contented. It is important that you be upright in heart and have a clear conscience.

This story is taken from Dr. Brandt’s book, “The Power of the Call.” The names and certain details in this true case history have been changed to protect each person’s identity and privacy.

About six months before, Annebel’s family was on their way to a Saturday picnic. They had forgotten the picnic basket. She stayed at the park to reserve the picnic table while her husband and two children returned home for the basket. No one knows what happened. There were no witnesses. A train struck their car at a railroad crossing and all three were killed.

Her friend described Annebel as a happily married woman, a good wife and mother who attended church regularly. Both she and her husband were Sunday School teachers. This accident obviously was a shock to the church and the community. Annebel could not seem to get over the tragedy.

What could I do? A long list of professionals were unable to help. I told her friend that it would be necessary for Annebel to contact me personally.

Several days went by before she called. She wanted to know if she could bring a friend along for support. That seemed a reasonable enough request. But, on the spot, I decided that she should come alone. She refused, but I insisted. Several more days went by. She called and repeated her request. Again, I insisted on seeing her alone. She refused. I could not explain my position even to myself. She called a third time with the same request. I remained firm, but this time she was willing to come alone.

The first meeting was hard. It started out with Annebel interviewing me. Had I ever experienced the death of a close family member? No. Had I ever seen anyone as a counselee who lost a family in a moment? No. I appear unsympathetic. No comment. She is not sure I could understand. I am not sure either. I can only try. There was a long silence. What could I say?

A thought occurred to me. We are both Christians. I asked God for wisdom as we talked, assuming He would answer my prayer. I referred her to 2 Corinthians 1:2-5:

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also abounds through Christ. Now if we are afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effective for enduring the same sufferings which we also suffer. Or if we are comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation.

My counsel followed this line: “We worship a God of all comfort and consolation. I presume you are here to seek these. There is something blocking or preventing your receiving comfort and consolation from God. You are receiving sympathy and attention from people, but that is not helping. We must discover what is hindering you from receiving comfort from God. Perhaps I can help you find out. It will be necessary to search your heart. You must answer all my questions. If you wish to try this approach, I’m willing to do it. Don’t decide now. Go home and think and pray. Ask God to guide us. Call me if you want to continue.”

She called the same day, saying she was ready to search her heart.

Why would God not give her comfort and consolation? As I contemplated this question, I recalled Isaiah 59:1-2: “Behold, the Lord’s hand is not shorted, that it cannot save; nor His ear heavy, that it cannot hear. But your iniquities have separated you from your God; and your sins have hidden His face from you, so that He will not hear.”

When Annebel returned, she seemed eager to begin. I told her of my thoughts and read her that Bible verse. The effect was like lancing a boil. Out tumbled this story about the day the tragedy occurred:

It was a Saturday – a beautiful sunshiny day with a gentle breeze. She thought to herself that this was a perfect day to visit her parents. It would take ninety minutes to drive there along a scenic road, one of her favorite drives. She called her mother and made arrangements to stay for supper.

Meanwhile, her husband, who worked until noon, glanced out the window and noticed the same beautiful day – a perfect day for a picnic at their favorite park. Very pleased with this idea, he called his wife. She had already called her mother. He insisted on having a picnic, and told her to have the food ready when he came home. She was furious. When he arrived home, there was no picnic basket filled with food. They had a vicious shouting match that ended with her reluctantly calling her mother to say the visit was off. She dragged her feet in preparing food for the picnic. The children sided with their dad; they wanted a picnic in the park. He was becoming increasingly impatient with Annabel’s pokiness. The more he pressed, the more rebellious she felt. Finally she was finished and they took off – two very angry, disgusted adults. This kind of clash was nothing new. It was happening quite frequently lately.

When they arrived at the park, it was discovered that no one had put the picnic basket in the car. A nasty fight followed over whose fault it was. Thoroughly disgusted, her husband decided to go after the basket. The children decided to go along. She elected to stay with the picnic table. She sent them off with, “Good riddance!” She fumed furiously while she was alone. It seemed they were gone a long time – which disgusted her more than ever.

A police car came along. They were looking for her. There had been an accident. Her husband and two children were dead. You can imagine her response.

When she finished her story, she wept uncontrollably. I proposed that we end our session, but she wanted to continue. She hadn’t shared this story with anyone until now.

She convinced herself that she was a loving wife and mother, grieving over a beloved family. Now she had to run her story through the principles in Isaiah 59. What were her sins? I proposed that she tell me. There was a very long, tearful silence. She began to whisper:  self-seeking, rebellion, anger, deception, resentment.

Did she first discover this condition the day of the accident? No, this was a problem before she met her husband. She had become skilled at justifying such behavior, or blaming it on someone else.

Only God could help her. Repentance was the key. Repentance implies that I am wrong and sorry and willing to be cleansed and renewed. Was she willing? She buried her face in her hands and tearfully cried out to God. It was a holy scene. When she finished and looked up, she didn’t look like the same person. She claimed that she was at ease for the first time in years.

Before our meeting, she thought that admitting her condition would flood her with guilt. But now she feels washed and clean and relieved. It was the other way around – ignoring her sins produced misery and guilt. She was indeed a new person. What a miracle!

[This story is taken from Dr. Brandt’s book, “The Word for the Wise.” The names and certain details in this true case history have been changed to protect each person’s identity and privacy.]

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That statement caught my attention. What kind of memories? Isn’t it good to have happy memories? Is it possible that there are unhappy memories that crowd out the happy ones? I encouraged her to recall some unhappy memories toward the people who caused the accident that killed her husband.

She took me by surprise. Yes, there were unhappy memories. They centered around that motorcycle. She did not want him to buy it. In the first place, it was a strain on the budget. They could not afford a powerful motorcycle and a decent car–so they drove a ten-year-old car. They would go for long motorcycle rides in the evenings. He was a bit reckless, cutting in and out, going too fast. She hated those rides. He loved them. He insisted on riding the motorcycle to church. She despised showing up at church with her helmet and messed-up hair.

One night he proposed that they go for a ride. It was an ideal evening. She did not want to go. The discussion became heated, but she stood her ground. He went for a ride alone. A car went through a stop sign and hit him broadside. He died on the pavement.

How does she feel when she talks about this? It makes her mad. He left her with an old car, house payments, and even motorcycle payments. He was underinsured, which left her to pay off some debts. She hates writing those checks. If only he had listened to her, it would not have happened. Her thoughts are usually disapproval of his choices. She resents the position he left her in. Over and over, she reviews her grudge against him.

I could see another problem. But when to speak and when to wait is often difficult to discern. The Bible says, “Speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the Head, that is, Christ” (Ephesians 4:15).

My heart went out to her. Was she ready for my opinion? What does she think I will say? She thinks I will tell her to quit resenting her husband. But she tells herself that she is entitled to resent him. I agree. Her husband left her in a mess. She can nurse her grudge against her husband as long as she wishes. But she must realize that she is punishing herself. As long as she holds her grudge, her life is anchored in the past. Over and over again she relives the agony of that day and nurses her resentment. She can be released from this bondage only if she is ready to let it go.

Jesus instructs us to forgive men their trespasses (Matthew 6:14) and to love one another (John 13:34), so I finally said, “One option you have is to forgive your husband, repent of your resentment, let the Lord forgive you, and then ask him to fill your heart with love.”

She was ready for that opportunity. I observed a miracle as she released her grudge, asked for forgiveness, and received the love of God in her heart. Immediately she was released from her burden, and now she is free.

Amy’s experience illustrates what happens when two problems coexist. One can overshadow the other. It seems reasonable that the tragic death of her husband would explain her misery. In this case however, it was the resentment that held the sting.

[This story is taken from Dr. Brandt’s book, The Word for the Wise. The names and certain details in this true case history have been changed to protect each person’s identity and privacy.]

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Dear Bill:

I don’t have to remind you of the problem Mom always was. How well you knew her self-pity, sarcasm, jealousy, suspicion, injustice, self-righteousness, and nagging that ended only in long periods of sulky silence. You rebelled openly, but my rebellion was silent. I buried the bitterness and resentment, but I buried them in the wrong place. I hid them in my heart and they have come back to torment me. Even after she died, I blamed Mom for making me the wretched person I was.

Things got worse after Ken and I married. I no longer had the moral support of family and friends to bolster my attitude. I was suddenly surrounded by new people, and a new set of circumstances. In them, I discovered a new measurement of myself, and in the balance I was found wanting. About a year ago, a series of events brought me to a long conversation with the Lord. When it was over, I realized I couldn’t go through life blaming someone else for what I was. The trouble was, I didn’t know what to do, I only added confusion to resentment.

Two weeks ago, Dr. Henry Brandt came to speak in our town. Talking to him privately, I told him in more detail what I’ve told you. He said I needed to do two things: 1) forgive Mom, and 2) pray for grace to face the kind of people to whom I react bitterly. He said that if the memories of Mom stir rancor in me, it is because rancor is in me. “For from within, out of the heart of men, proceed evil thoughts…wickedness…pride and foolishness” (Mark 7:21-22).

My problem, then, turns out to be not Mom, but me and my relationship with the Lord. Because Christ offers peace and joy in place of bitterness and anger, the question boils down to this: Do I accept what He has to offer, or don’t I?

Bill, I have made my choice, but much still remains to be worked out in my daily life. Frankly, I’m a little scared. However, although I know a lot about my own weakness, I also know something about the strength of the Lord.

All through the years, our problem of rebelliousness and hatred has been the same. The answer is the same, too. I want you to enjoy the wonderful peace that has come into my life through Christ.

Your sis,

Linda

The names and certain details in this true case history have been changed to protect each person’s identity and privacy.