When Offense Starts Close
Psalm 55:12–14 (NIV)
If an enemy were insulting me, I could endure it; if a foe were rising against me, I could hide. But it is you, a man like myself, my companion, my close friend, with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship at the house of God.
Some of the deepest offense we carry doesn’t come from strangers. It comes from people we trusted. It’s one thing to be hurt by someone outside your circle. But it hits different when it’s a parent, a friend, a pastor, or someone you sat beside in church. David isn’t talking about a battlefield enemy in this psalm. He’s talking about someone who used to worship with him. That’s a different kind of pain.
When we’re disillusioned with people, we don’t just lose trust in them. We start building internal walls that affect every relationship that follows. A mentor fails you, so now no one is safe. A friend betrays you, so you keep every new connection at arm’s length. The problem is, those walls don’t just keep others out. They keep healing out too. You think you’re protecting yourself, but you’re actually imprisoning yourself.
God never asked us to trust people to be perfect. He asked us to love people and forgive them when they’re not. People were never designed to carry the weight of your expectations. That role belongs to Jesus alone. The more we expect people to be our source, our rock, or our emotional stability, the more they will let us down. And when they do, offense sneaks in. But healing begins when we stop holding people to a role only God can fill.
Prayer:
Father, I admit there are people who have hurt me. And if I’m honest, I’ve put some of them on a pedestal they were never meant to stand on. I’ve expected them to be my strength, my support, my source of security. Forgive me for putting pressure on people that only You were meant to carry. Help me let go of offense and release those I’ve held in judgment. Teach me how to love people with grace, not resentment. Heal what others broke and restore what trust was lost. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
If an enemy were insulting me, I could endure it; if a foe were rising against me, I could hide. But it is you, a man like myself, my companion, my close friend, with whom I once enjoyed sweet fellowship at the house of God.
Some of the deepest offense we carry doesn’t come from strangers. It comes from people we trusted. It’s one thing to be hurt by someone outside your circle. But it hits different when it’s a parent, a friend, a pastor, or someone you sat beside in church. David isn’t talking about a battlefield enemy in this psalm. He’s talking about someone who used to worship with him. That’s a different kind of pain.
When we’re disillusioned with people, we don’t just lose trust in them. We start building internal walls that affect every relationship that follows. A mentor fails you, so now no one is safe. A friend betrays you, so you keep every new connection at arm’s length. The problem is, those walls don’t just keep others out. They keep healing out too. You think you’re protecting yourself, but you’re actually imprisoning yourself.
God never asked us to trust people to be perfect. He asked us to love people and forgive them when they’re not. People were never designed to carry the weight of your expectations. That role belongs to Jesus alone. The more we expect people to be our source, our rock, or our emotional stability, the more they will let us down. And when they do, offense sneaks in. But healing begins when we stop holding people to a role only God can fill.
Prayer:
Father, I admit there are people who have hurt me. And if I’m honest, I’ve put some of them on a pedestal they were never meant to stand on. I’ve expected them to be my strength, my support, my source of security. Forgive me for putting pressure on people that only You were meant to carry. Help me let go of offense and release those I’ve held in judgment. Teach me how to love people with grace, not resentment. Heal what others broke and restore what trust was lost. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
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