In the movie “The Interpreter” Sylvia Broom (played by Nicole Kidman) is an interpreter working for the United Nations. She overhears a plot to assassinate the president of an African nation. Coincidentally, she was born there. And the president was responsible for the deaths of her parents when she was an adolescent. When the Secret Service question Sylvia about what she has overheard, they doubt her story and suspect that she is actually the one who is plotting the death of the president. In one particular scene, the Secret Service agent is questioning Sylvia:
“How do you feel about Zuwanie? Never mind ’I don’t care for him.’” “I feel disappointed,” replies Sylvia. “That’s a lover’s word,” Keller responds. “What about rage? Of all the people that I have looked into since this thing started, the one with the darkest Zuwanie history is you. It was his land mines that killed…” “Shhh,” says Sylvia, as she places her fingers over his lips. “We don’t name the dead. Everybody who loses somebody wants revenge on someone. On God if they can’t find anyone else. But in Africa, in Mantobo, the Ku believe that the only way to end grief is to save a life. If someone is murdered, a year of mourning ends with a ritual that we call the drowning-man trial. There’s an all-night party beside the river. At dawn, the killer is put in a boat, he’s taken out in the water, and he’s dropped. He’s bound so that he cannot swim. The family of the dead then has to make a choice. They can let him drown, or they can swim out and save him. The Ku believe that if the family lets the killer drown, they’ll have justice but spend the rest of their lives in mourning. But if they save him, if they admit that life isn’t always just, that very act can take away their sorrow. Vengeance is a lazy form of grief.”
How do you respond when others do you wrong? Remember the last time you felt wronged? Unfairly criticised? Wrongly accused? The subject of gossip or slander? How did you feel? How did you react? Did you regret it? Did it give you peace of mind? Or compound the grief with guilt?
Just after Christmas a Christian leader wrote to Bishop Christopher about me, accusing me of various things and calling on the Bishop to censure me. That’s fine. I welcome constructive criticism. But the individual went one stage further. He wrote to each of our staff personally highlighting his concerns. Then a week later, a colleague of his wrote to all the staff once more with even more serious complaints calling on Bishop Christopher to sack me. Thankfully, Bishop Christopher did the opposite. He defended me for which I am grateful. If you want to see how I responded, check out my blog.
In Psalm 26, David’s pen pricks our conscience like a needle. His words touch a sensitive nerve. They expose our conditioned reflex when wronged – to retaliate. Common sense whispers: Defend yourself. The media shouts: “Don’t get mad, get even!” Like a rattlesnake, coiled within us, our carnal nature lies ready to strike. Retaliation it seems remains one of our favourite sports. But, as we shall learn in this Psalm, there’s a supernatural alternative to our natural reaction. Please turn with me to Psalm 26. David begins with an emotional plea,
“Vindicate me, LORD, for I have led a blameless life. I have trusted in the LORD and have not faltered.” (Psalm 26:1)
David has suffered some undeserved wrong and it has been painful to endure. But he has refused to retaliate. Read the verse again slowly.
“Vindicate me, LORD, for I have led a blameless life. I have trusted in the LORD and have not faltered.” (Psalm 26:1)
The word translated “falter” means to slip or slide or totter. How could David say so confidently “I have not faltered”? What kept him upright? What enabled him to do right when he had been done wrong? We can draw out seven reasons from this Psalm. Seven simple steps that will ensure we too can do right when you’ve been done wrong.