It has been quite a while since I last posted a blog, but one of my aspirations for 2026 is to pick up the pen a little more often. For those of you who have stuck with me, thank you; for those who were hoping I’d finally shut up, sorry . . .

I have often written that I believe our providences are not just for us. Yes, we are the ones who will enjoy, endure, or survive them – but if we are willing to talk about how God has helped us through, then I believe our experiences can help others without them having to necessarily go through the same waters.

It’s tempting when you blog about faith to present a uniformly positive picture. Indeed, I remember being criticised (by an atheist, so it didn’t hurt because I don’t really believe in them) for having such a slant to my writing. Presumably he wanted angst and pain, and fruitless weeping; that would be edgier. But I was trying to encourage people, and I was pretty astounded – still am, frankly – that in the very worst losses and pains of my life, God was more than sufficient. Others have a right to know that too.

Now, though, I have hit a persistent bump in my spiritual road. I have thought about it, prayed about it and still, I have no clarity. So, I’m going back to basics and I’m going to try working it through with pen and paper – and I’m taking you along with me.

So, here is the problem. I have a lot of experience of facing the enemy, of being embittered and almost defeated by him – but, leaning on God’s strength and wisdom, prevailing. Even a young Christian will tell you about the whole armour of God, and I can testify to its efficacy. But what has flummoxed me is this: how do I deal with a professing Christian who hates me?

It’s weird, but as I started to write the previous paragraph, a text dropped into my mind – one I’d completely forgotten about while worrying over this issue. Matthew 18:21-22 speaks about forgiving a brother who has offended us ‘seventy times seven’, and this, I freely admit, I have failed to do. This ‘brother’ is wilfully and deliberately nasty and disrespectful, and all too often, I bite back, or allow my anger towards him to take hold of me.

I am in the wrong as much as him. No, he shouldn’t allow this poisonous tendency to have free rein, but that’s very much his problem. That he creates dissent and discord wherever he goes is a poor testimony for a Christian, but that is not mine to control. Believe me, I have toyed with the idea of tackling the issue head-on and asking him what he has against me in particular. This, though, would be a fruitless exercise because the truth is, I believe, that he doesn’t know the answer. Or, at least, he would never admit to himself what the reasons are.

Ultimately, we have to accept that we cannot control how others behave – but we are responsible for our own reactions to them. Ball is in my court on this one.

So, some audience participation is required here: what would you do? How would you deal with the circumstance? His hatred isn’t rational; I would tell you if I’d done anything to him. That being the case, then, how do I set about forgiving him so that his toxicity doesn’t cause me to poison my own soul?

I know part of the answer. Every day this happens, I must take it to God. And, of course, I must be mindful of how much I have, and am, being forgiven. There is a whopping great plank in my own eye, I know.

In practice, though, when this man speaks to me through gritted teeth, or uses deliberately derogatory language about me in the presence of others, I struggle to ‘go high when he goes low’. I am human and, sometimes vulnerable. His behaviour angers me, yes, but sometimes it is hurtful too. So much so that I have been seriously considering removing myself from any circumstance where our paths would have to cross. To do that, I would have to let others down. However, if I never saw him again, this problem would go away and I would be protecting myself.

This feels like a huge test. I’ve had vile anonymous messages in the past, I’ve been vilified on social media and even had my grief mocked by strangers in a public forum. Ultimately, it didn’t matter because I could genuinely say, ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’ – but how do I get there when the attacker professes Christ himself?