The other night, I got in an argument … over vegetables and carbohydrates. In front of a group of people. And I don’t mean that I simply disagreed with someone. This person and I debated—broccoli and its elements—for a good five minutes, maybe more.
Read that again.
Here I am, a Bible teacher, podcast host and Christ-following content creator, meaning, someone you’d expect to hold a certain level of spiritual and emotional maturity, and I literally wasted time and energy, and temporarily forfeited my peace, over greens.
You’ve never done that, right? Allowed your emotions or pride, or both, to pull you into a childish dispute that literally bore no impact on your evening or life.
Except, perhaps, for the shame you carried after.
While I landed in that place for a minute, I didn’t stay there nearly as long as in the past.
This is likely how I would’ve reacted, had this event occurred a few years ago. I would’ve returned home carrying a heavy load of condemnation, fueled by all the reasons I should’ve done better and how I must do better in the future. I probably would’ve spent a good portion of the next morning journaling, thinking I was engaging with God, while using every pen stroke as an indictment on my character and worth.
That used to characterize my faith journey. Not long ago, while preparing for a keynote presentation on living in Christ’s grace, I happened upon prayer notebooks from ten years prior. As I flipped through the pages, I sensed a bit of sadness for the patterns. Day after day, paragraph after paragraph, read much the same. Pages filled with all the ways I’d failed and strong self-directed lectures on how I should behave in the future.
I needed to be kinder, more gracious, gentle and loving. To maintain self-control in difficult or stressful situations, and certainly around individuals I found frustrating. And while I ended each entry in prayer, asking God to give me the fruit of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22-23) I so desperately needed, those conversations were always one-sided. Filled with my thoughts, accusations and demands, with no evidence of the Lord’s gentle voice.
The problem wasn’t that Jesus wasn’t speaking. I believe He likely was, or at least, waiting to do so. But I remained so stuck in my head, my anxious thoughts zipping through my brain so loudly, that I couldn’t hear Him.
But this time—the produce debacle—was different, and far more productive. You see, I’ve learned to evaluate my inner world before delivering the indictment. And I’m learning to do so with my soul turned to Christ and my ears alert to His soft whisper as He lovingly, compassionately, and truthfully probes the depth of my soul.
This is the level of intimacy, and the growth mindset, David, ancient Israel’s second king, practiced in Psalm 139. He began his prayer acknowledging that the Lord had already “searched” him completely, alert to every thought, word, deed and omission.
But to benefit from God’s complete and perfect knowledge, David needed to bring his entire self, including the parts that brought him shame, to the One who would never reject or abandon him, no matter how many “produce wars” in which he engaged.
And so, he prayed:
Search me, God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting (Psalm 139:23-24, NIV).
Although I didn’t use those exact words, the other night, as I lay in bed wrestling over that incident, I sensed the Lord drawing me closer to Him.
Here’s what I’ve discovered. He is far gentler with me than I am with myself. Each time I come to Him with these types of concerns, expecting a rebuke, I receive mercy and understanding instead.
In this instance, He invited me to consider all the events leading to my quarrel. As I did, I realized my reaction over broccoli had nothing to do with veggies. I’d come into that encounter with an edge, carrying frustration related to things I found potentially harmful. Along with a few unrelated yet weighty concerns.
In short, I entered that room less than my best. And while I didn’t process my emotions in that moment (although I wish I had!), I did take time to do so later.
I invited my Father to shine His life-giving light into the farthest corners of my soul, where my fears, insecurities and unmet longings lie. I made space by quieting myself in His presence so that I could receive His comfort, truth and goodness toward me, His beloved daughter.
That’s precisely how He met me. Not with harsh accusation, but rather, with an abundance of empathetic truth and grace.
Because it is His love, His kindness, that leads me to repentance; to lasting change.
Does that mean I’ll never argue over broccoli again? Oh, man, I hope so, although I might land in another situation, equally ridiculous, in the future. That doesn’t mean my faith is weak, I don’t love Jesus, or that I’m insufficient or inferior in some way. Rather, it indicates I’m a flawed yet growing child of God who desperately wants to please my Lord.
Here’s the message I believe Christ wants me to glean from all this. First, He’s teaching me to move beyond surface-level behavior modification to true soul transformation. The former, rooted in self-reliance, rarely lasts. In fact, in my experience, it almost always results in fatigue and, eventually, discouragement. And, perhaps, more journal pages filled with “I should’ves” and “musts” without much enduring fruit.
The Lord wants to take me deeper—deeper with Him and myself—so that I can experience real transformation characterized by healing, self-control, a Spirit-led perspective and growth.
But He revealed a second application as well that affects how I view others and their less-than-glamorous broccoli moments. God is encouraging me to remember my vegetable argument the next time I’m tempted to condemn someone else for their “salad” fiascos.
Because the older I get, and the more disagreements and blunders I experience or witness, the more I realize, we all desperately need Christ’s grace. That doesn’t erase accountability, but it does provide the cushion that prioritizes relationship above reaction.
If this post resonated with you, I encourage you to catch a relatively recent Faith Over Fear episode titled, “How to Stop Letting Conflict Control Your Emotions,” accessed wherever you get your podcast content.
Why God Might Feel Distant and How to Connect With Him More Deeply – Faith Over Fear
- Why God Might Feel Distant and How to Connect With Him More Deeply
- How God Redeems Our Deepest Regrets (ft. Dustin Lolli, lead singer Sanctus Real)
- How God Helps Us Repair Broken Relationships
- How to Stop Letting Fear Drive Your Need for Control (ft. Lysa TerKeurst)
- How to Trust God When You Need a Miracle