HATE TO LOVE

People will decide whether to hate or love you based on things that are irrelevant.

The way you look.

Your relatives and your connections.

Where you work.

What you wear.

Your level of formal education.

I remember my grandma saying,

“Baby… there’s a lot of educated fools out here.”

And none of those things

have anything to do with who a person really is.

A person’s true character

is woven into their DNA.

It’s who they are

at the very core of their being.

And one thing about character—

it’s unchanging.

It becomes uncomfortable

when you step out of it.

Your nervous system knows.

It creates conflict.

A tug of war

between the I am

and the I wanna be.

And the truth is…

sometimes the wanna

is broken.

Hate doesn’t really affect the hated.

They hated Jesus—

and it didn’t diminish his power

or his relevance.

The hater sits suffering,

while coals heap on their own head.

I’ve hated before.

Hate wasn’t who I was—

it was a fire blanket.

Something I wrapped myself in

to survive what was trying to consume me.

I thought I was protecting myself.

But soon I was surrounded by smoke,

and I could hardly breathe.

Then…

I let go.

Choose accordingly.