I put a pot of water on to boil. I cover it , to speed the process. Soon, it is boiling over, sputtering and scalding. I remove the lid, turn down the heat so the contents will simmer----
How often I have set my rights, my hurts, my fears on to boil. I cover them with my list of reasons for being angry. The flame of dishonesty, blame, resentment,even escape, lures the anger to a rolling boil.
My pot of anger boils over too easily. I spew words and actions, scalding those around me.
My Lord stands waiting at my kitchen-heart's door. (Isn't the kitchen the very center of my home?) His eyes pleading for me to remove the lid, turn off the heat. His hands, scarred, reach to even hold that burning pot that has scorched so many, even Him.
He would, if I allowed Him, if I dared, He would consume those rights, those hurts, those fears. And He would exchange that scorch for love, for grace, for comfort, for peace.
He would, if I dared.