文／HuSir

　　那天，我和朋友在一个羽毛球馆打球，球场旁有一条长凳，我们把包、手机、水瓶等物品摆在了凳子一侧。正当我们专注挥拍时，上一组打完球的年轻人毫无顾忌地坐到了我们的物品之间。他们直接坐在我放手机的位置，差点压到屏幕。那一刻，我的心咯噔一下，随即愤怒涌上来：

　　“喂，小心点！你碰到我手机了！”

　　我提高声音，大声呵斥，但他们看了看，不以为然，反而说没碰到啊，然后继续低头玩手机，没有挪开或收敛的意思。我看得出，对方或许并没有恶意，只是无视了基本的界限感，不觉得每个人的物品和人与人之间应该有一个基本的‘社交距离’，或许他们的父母也没有这方面的教导吧，算了，我又不是他们的父母，懒得和他们理论了。他们后来休息完毕就离开了。

反应后的自责与内心反思

　　事后，我在球场角落里默默坐下，心里满是懊悔和自责：

　　我怎么会这么粗鲁？要知道我不是一个没礼貌的人，但我的第一反应为什么是忍不住高声呵斥他们呢？

　　我的朋友，说话好像是一位心理医生，也坦言：

　　“你这样的应激反应，本质上是一种‘创伤防御机制’。你过去太少被尊重，连简单的边界都要用怒气来保护。”这句话透露出一个深层的心理图像：

　　你渴望被尊重，也愿意尊重别人；但在过去的成长环境或社会互动中，你习惯被忽视、被无视甚至被冒犯；因此，遇到看似“不讲界限”的人或行为，你的身体就自动进入“防御状态”。

　　你不是主动想发怒，而是过去的不被尊重、没有安全感的经历，自动调动你内在的“自我保护机制”。

　　听完朋友的话我也在反思，愤怒也许不是罪，但不加分辨的爆发让我感到羞愧。更加让我困惑的是：我渴望温柔，也想温柔待人，但为什么自己做不到？

圣灵不是要压制你，而是要医治你

　　我们常说“要去爱人”，但若一个人从未真正感受过被人深深地理解、宽容、尊重、包容，那他要如何爱别人呢？如同当今社会里每个家庭、每个学校里父母和孩子、老师和孩子的关系。

　　爱的能力，很多时候不是天生的，是在“被好好对待”中学会的。而我，连同很多家庭、学校里的孩子，也许从来都不是那个在各个场合被温柔提醒的人；我可能是那个一直以来必须靠提高分贝、绷紧神经才能保住自我边界的人。我不是不想温柔，而是没人教过我温柔是怎样被允许和接纳的。

　　信主后，弟兄姐妹们被要求按照耶稣基督的样式面对生活中的人和事，如同耶稣在十字架上说：“父啊，赦免他们，因为他们所做的，他们不晓得。”这不仅是对伤害祂的人的怜悯，更是一种看透了人类局限性的宽恕。我想，当我们为自己的粗鲁自责时，基督并没有站在远处批评你。祂看到了我们心中那个想要温柔、却被现实一次次刺痛的孩子。祂不是拿尺子来量我们是否表现合格，而是靠近我们，对我们说：“我知道你很努力，我也知道你很累。”，这样，我们的心里是不是会释然很多呢？

　　很多基督徒在信主以后，以为一切软弱和怒气都应该立刻消失，否则就是“没有悔改”，但我信主十多年来，似乎一直是容易“着急、上火”的急脾气，虽然近些年来一直在努力克制，但收效甚微。其实圣经从未说过我们的改变要在一瞬间完成。圣灵在我们心中工作，不是压制我们的真实情绪，而是温柔地带我们去看见，那些愤怒其实是旧伤在作痛。医治的过程，可能是我们第一次学会——在愤怒来临时停下来，不再审判自己，而是祷告说：“主啊，我不想这样反应，但我真的不知道该怎么做，请你带我走出这一步。”

温柔不是“忍”，是我们终于不再惧怕

　　真正的温柔，不是强行压下愤怒或忍让一切，而是心里不再惧怕，不再觉得别人永远在占你便宜、不再怀疑自己的尊严会被践踏。这种温柔，不是靠“忍”得来的，而是靠“被神爱、知道神保守”的确据生出的。因为我们知道，即便别人无视我们，神从不忽略每个人；即便我们无法温柔，神依旧用温柔抱住每个人。

　　我们可以诚实地面对自己说：“我今天没有表现得像耶稣。”但也可以接着说：“谢谢主，你没有因此离开我。”当我们向神承认自己的挣扎，而不是逃避或责备自己，我们已经在走向真正的自由了。

爱，从不嫌你慢，只怕你不敢靠近

　　亲爱的弟兄姐妹，爱不是只对那些“表现得好”的人流露的奖赏。爱是你站在愤怒、羞愧、不解中时，依然有人肯抱着你说：“你是我所爱、我所喜悦的。”这才是基督的爱，不是一种要求，而是一种等候。

　　孩子是最容易形成“应激防御”的群体。父母的每一句责备都可能让孩子学会用怒气保护自己。我们呼吁：

• 看到孩子哭泣时，不要急于指责，先抱抱他说：“我在这里，没关系。”
• 设置清晰界限，同时给他们空间和尊重，比如：“我们不在餐桌上玩手机，请把手机放好。”
• 在冲突后给予安抚与对话，让孩子知道，即使做错也被无条件接纳。

　　当家庭成为练习温柔的起点，孩子学会了与他人相处，也更能在世界的摩擦中保住内心的光。

　　在我们无法温柔时，基督用祂的爱环绕我们，让我们在伤痕中不再孤单。愿弟兄姐妹们在每一次愤怒之后，都抬头仰望那双满有怜悯的眼睛：
　　“来，我的孩子，我与你同在。”

When You Cannot Be Gentle, How Does Christ See You?

By HuSir

That day, my friend and I were playing badminton at an indoor court. Beside the court stood a long bench; we set our bags, phones, and water bottles on one side. While we focused on our rallies, two young men who had just finished their match came over and—without a second thought—sat down among our belongings. One of them landed right on the spot where my phone lay, nearly crushing the screen. My heart skipped a beat, and anger surged:

“Hey! Watch it—you almost hit my phone!”

I raised my voice and scolded them. They glanced up, shrugged, and said, “We didn’t touch it,” then bowed over their own phones—no apology, no attempt to move. They likely meant no harm; they simply ignored basic boundaries. Perhaps their parents never taught them about personal space—but I’m not their parent, and I had no patience to lecture. After resting, they left.

Regret and Inner Reflection

Sitting alone in a corner afterward, I felt nothing but remorse and shame:

How could I be so rude? I’m usually courteous—why did I snap like that?

My friend—speaking like a psychologist—commented:

“That outburst was a trauma-defense mechanism. You’ve seldom been respected, so even simple boundaries trigger anger for protection.”

His words exposed a deeper truth: I long to be respected and to respect others, yet a history of being ignored or violated wires my body to defend itself at the faintest boundary breach. That anger was not deliberate; it was an automatic response born of old wounds. Anger itself may not be sin, but its unfiltered eruption ashamed me. More troubling: I yearn to be gentle and to treat people gently—why can’t I?

The Spirit Does Not Suppress You but Heals You

We’re told to “love others,” yet one who has never known deep understanding, patience, and respect can scarcely love. Like many parent-child or teacher-student ties today, love is learned by first being loved. I—like many children—have rarely heard gentle reminders; I learned to defend my space by raising my voice and tensing my nerves. I’m not unwilling to be gentle; I was never shown how gentleness is permitted and received.

After believing, Christians are called to mirror Jesus. On the cross He prayed,

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.”
— Luke 23:34, NKJV

This is more than mercy for His tormentors; it is compassion for human limitation. When we chastise ourselves for harshness, Christ does not stand at a distance to judge. He sees the child inside—longing for gentleness yet wounded again and again. He does not measure us with a ruler of performance but draws near and says, “I know you try so hard; I know you are tired.” Doesn’t that release much of our burden?

Many believers assume every weakness and burst of temper must vanish instantly—otherwise they have not repented. Yet after more than ten years of faith, I remain quick-tempered; my efforts to restrain it succeed only slightly. Scripture never says change must be instant. The Holy Spirit works not to crush genuine emotion but to show that anger often signals old pain. Healing may begin when, at the flash of fury, we pause—not to condemn ourselves but to pray: “Lord, I don’t want to react like this, but I don’t know how—lead me through.”

Gentleness Is Not “Grin and Bear It” but Freedom From Fear

True gentleness is not pressing anger down or passively yielding; it is an unafraid heart—no longer convinced others will exploit us or trample our worth. Such gentleness does not come by sheer endurance but by the assurance that we are loved and kept by God. Even if others overlook us, God never does; if we fail at gentleness, He still enfolds us.

We may confess, “Today I did not act like Jesus,” and immediately add, “Thank You, Lord, for not leaving me.” Presenting our struggle to God, rather than fleeing or blaming ourselves, moves us toward real freedom.

Love Never Minds Your Pace—Only That You Draw Near

Dear brothers and sisters, love is not a reward for those who “perform well.” Love meets you amid anger, shame, and confusion, holds you, and says, “You are My beloved, in you I delight.” This is Christ’s love—not a demand, but a patient waiting.

Children most readily form defensive anger. Every harsh word may teach a child to protect with rage. So let families be the first place to practice gentleness:

• When a child weeps, resist scolding. Hold them and say, “I’m here; it’s okay.”
• Set clear boundaries yet grant space and respect: “We don’t use phones at the table; please set it aside.”
• After conflict, offer comfort and dialogue so they know mistakes never cancel unconditional acceptance.

A home of gentleness trains children to relate well and to keep their inner light amidst the world’s friction.

When we cannot be gentle, Christ surrounds us with His love so wounds need not face the night alone. May we, after each flare of anger, lift our eyes to His compassionate gaze:

“Come, My child; I am with you.”