The Six Letter Silent Killer
by Rev. George Pryor
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HIRE THIS WRITER
The six letter silent killer.
It’s called a Grudge
Grudge: A persistent feeling of ill will or resentment resulting from a past insult or injury.
A grudge is not an actual physical thing that can be picked up, carried or visibly seen. It is something that is "carried internally, however, it is real ...and the only person that can be hurt by it is the one that is carrying it.
Carrying a grudge is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die.
“If you are angry, don’t sin by nursing your grudge. Don’t let the sun go down with you still angry ---get over it quickly” (Ephes. 4:26 LB).
Let me share a story I read some time ago about Mr. Hag and Mr. Fafi.
One day Mr. Forgive-and-Forget-It (Fafi for short) went by the home of Mr. Hold-A-Grudge. (We’ll call him Hag.)
“Thought I’d come by and see how you’re doing,” said Fafi “We haven’t seen you at church in a long time. Have you been real busy (or something) lately?”
“You’d better believe I’ve been busy.” panted Hag. “I’ve got a 24-hour-a-day job on my hands. Don’t really have time for anything else now.
“Why is that? What are you doing?” asked Fafi.
“I’m nursing a grudge.” replied Hag. Come, let me show it to you.
Hag beckoned Fafi over to a little cot in the corner of the room. There, warmly bundled and half-buried beneath several layers of fluffy quilts lay a big robust-looking grudge. It was a perfect speci¬men of a grudge: brow deeply furrowed from chronic frowning, lips pooched out in a pious pout and pug-nosed with blood-shot eyes flashing fire in “righteous indignation.” Flush-faced swollen from an acute attack of hyper pride, and growing as grudges do about two inches a minute.
The ugly grudge opened its big mouth. and Hag quickly stuffed a lump of something clammy down its throat: after it he poured in some green vile smelling liquid.
“What’s that stuff?” Fafi asked. holding his nose.
‘Oh, It’s a little morsel of Did-You-See What-They-Did-To-Me, washed down with some Self Pity Punch, answered Hag. “Grudges just love it; they could eat it all day but it’s too expensive. Really this old Grudge is eating me out of house and home.
But if I don’t feed it, it will die.’’
Well, why don’t you just let it die suggested Fafi.
Hag looked at Fafi in horror “How can I?’’ he replied. ‘‘I’m just not one to let a grudge die. Man, it would mortally hurt my pride and reputation for everyone to know that I was heartless enough to let a poor little grudge die.” Fafi shrugged his shoulders as Hag turned his attention back to his grudge.
The cries from the grumbling grudge grew louder and louder. It would not be appeased. Hag poured some more Self-Pity Punch down it’s throat but the grudge just sort of gargled with it then spit it back into Hag’s face. He winced in frustration.
“Help me carry this thing into the bedroom,” Hag begged. “I won’t be able to help you.” Fafi said. “I can’t be holding and wrestling with grudges because I’ve got a bad back. Besides, it’s your grudge. not mine.”
what shall I do. what shall I do?” Hag hollered, turning with pleading eyes to Fafi. Fafi quickly ran to the front door. Opening it, he grabbed a large. cross shaped stick. “If you know what’s good for you, he yelled. set that grudge down, take this cross and beat it to death! You’d better do it before it does you in.
Hag first looked puzzlingly at Fafi, then fearfully at the grudge which was screaming at the top of its voice. Suddenly the grudge seemed to Hag to be the ugliest creature in the world. Because of its unsatisfiable thirst and hunger. Hag knew in his heart that he would never be able to satisfy its demands. He finally came to the moment of truth! He knew this grudge would tie him down with impossible responsibilities and could be an unimaginable responsibility to him as long as he nursed it. It would prevent him from helping anyone else, and indeed in the event of a big fire or some other emergency it would even prevent him from saving himself.
In a moment Hag had made up his mind. He threw the grudge down on the ground and started beating it viciously with the cross shaped stick. Hag with a wild blow caught the grudge right on it’s head. With a sudden shudder it sank to the ground and lay still, stone dead. Wiping the perspiration from his brow, Hag sighed with relief. He walked over to where Fafi had been watching it all and crumpled into a chair.
“Oh my! What a relief to see that thing dead,” Hag sighed.
“Yes we’ll bury it, then forgive and forget it” said Fafi “And you learn to keep that cross handy.”
Hag tenderly caressed one of the knots on his head. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Nursing a grudge can be a pretty dangerous endeavor.” He smiled at his friend sheepishly and said, “I’ll be back at church Sunday, now that I have free time again.”
Lovingly Fafi handed Hag a glass of cold water, Hag took two sips and was soon asleep in the peaceful rest that is known only to those who have been victorious in hand to hand combat with a grudge.
Rev. George Pryor Th.M.
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