Our heads bowed, our eyes closed. One final prayer and then the singing school our family attends each summer would come to an end.
But I was startled by the minister’s words. After all, I’d never heard the phrase “hate my guts” used in prayer, much less in one at such a large, public assembly.
“Lord help me to love those who hate me, who hate my guts.”
Are there people who hate me? Who hate my guts?
I would be naive to think otherwise. Make the wrong comment or express the wrong opinion on Facebook if you have any doubt that “haters gonna hate.”
The preacher’s words may have taken me off guard at the time, but they stuck with me and I’ve pondered them for months.
Please visit me today at (in)courage as we ponder what it means to love those who hate us.