David.

Here's what I've been mulling over lately:

"May the LORD judge between you and me. And may the LORD avenge the wrongs you have done to me, but my hand will not touch you."

It's from the book of 1 Samuel, and the words belong to David, the future king of Israel. He is speaking to Saul, the current king, who also happens to be the man behind the plan for having David killed; Saul even attempted to kill David himself a little earlier in the story. David, of course, is well aware that Saul tried to kill him once, and he's also been told that Saul is still seeking his death. He's out hiding from Saul. And isn't it interesting that when David actually has the chance to turn the tables and kill Saul first, he doesn't take it.

He could have killed Saul any number of ways, too. The Bible actually says that David did, in fact, sneak up on Saul and cut a corner of his robe before David himself became "conscience-stricken." David had the perfect opportunity to kill the man who was after his own life. He had the perfect opportunity to have his men kill Saul as well, and instead of issuing the command to take Saul's life, he forbade his men to attack the current king.

Now I'm not crazy at the thought of standing in judgement before God one day. Apart from the blood of Jesus, I wouldn't stand a chance. And, even though I'm certain I'll spend eternity with my Father, I also know I'll be called to stand before His throne one day and account for each and every decision in my life. Talk about humbling.

I'm not interested in asking God to judge between me and my ex-husband. I've experienced enough in my life to know that even when I think what I long for is justice, it's actually mercy I so desperately need. (I also have a really good friend who planted that thought in my head and in my heart quite a few months ago.) I am interested, though, in learning how to take my own hands out of the vengeance equation.

Honestly, I'm not sure if I can stand with David and say that my hands will have no part in payback. I'm not sure I'm ready to stand with David and ask my men to back down. I'm not even sure if, given the opportunity, I wouldn't cut a little more than the corner of a robe. I'd like to be able to say that I would respond as David did, but I think I'd be lying to myself. And I'm tired of lies, remember?

What I do know is this: my prayers for the next few days, weeks, maybe months are going to be focused on letting go. Letting go and letting God. That sounds like such a cliche', like something people say all the time and don't really mean, or maybe don't even really understand, but I want it to be true in my life. I want it to be true in this situation.

I want to be able to stand before my "men," my friends and family, and order them off the attack. I want to be strong enough and confident enough to end any and all negative talk surrounding the people and circumstances that have impacted my life. I want to be strong enough and confident enough to not start any negative talk, too.

I didn't realize until I began writing how strongly I cling to the thoughts and words of others. Sometimes I derive my strength and worth and confidence from the fact that other people think the two of them made some crappy decisions, too. And I love it. I find solidarity and support in those opinions.

I think I'd rather find solidarity and support in Jesus.

And honestly, even though it's easy to convince myself that I'm the one who needs to make him understand the error of his ways, that I'm the one who needs to hold him accountable and open his eyes to all the pain he's caused both himself and his family, that I'm the one who needs to help him see that this decision is so far from God's plan for his life, the bottom line is that I've tried it all, and none of it worked. So now it's time for me to get out of the way and let God do his thing.

And who knows what the future holds? Reconciliation? Restoration? Maybe.

Maybe not.

I'm learning to be okay with that. I'm learning to be more than okay with that.

I'm excited to see what God's going to do with my life, with my story.

Relinquishing control is going to be my opening chapter.