It’s a familiar experience for many of us: irritation brewing when the people around us—friends, family, colleagues—don’t treat us the way we expect or wish. We’ve all been there. Perhaps someone spoke out of turn, neglected our feelings, or simply behaved in a way that rubbed us the wrong way. In a world where advice about communication is abundant, many suggest confronting the issue directly—speak your mind, set boundaries, and address the disagreement head-on. But how effective is this approach? Is it truly the answer when we’re upset?

I’ve tried it—raising my concerns, explaining my frustrations—but each time, the conversation feels cold, even awkward. After all, when we’re already disagreeing, how warm and open can the discussion really be? The truth is, it’s often unpleasant to challenge someone else’s point of view, especially when we feel hurt or misunderstood. So, in the past, I’ve chosen to stay silent, to endure the discomfort and bottle up my feelings inside. But that never leads to peace. The irritation lingers, sometimes festering and growing, making it feel like there’s no good solution.

This internal conflict often leaves me stuck between two choices: express my irritation and make others uncomfortable, or stay quiet and feel the weight of it myself. The struggle becomes a cycle, and frankly, it can be overwhelming. But then, I remembered something powerful I learned from the Bible: God teaches us to love, and with His help, we can navigate even the toughest situations with grace.

The answer, it turns out, lies in not speaking when we’re angry, but in seeking the strength of love to guide us through those moments. Because, ultimately, we all know the difference between actions that come from love and those that don’t. The former is warm, compassionate, and healing, while the latter feels cold and distant—unwelcome, even by animals or plants.

Take my own experience with the cats at home: I have three cats and one kitten, each with their own need for affection. Some days, I have the energy to cuddle one of them wholeheartedly, while with others, it’s a quick pat, just to make sure everyone gets their share of attention. But the cats can sense this difference. They respond only when my affection is genuine, when it’s filled with warmth.

Or consider a more unusual, but no less telling example. A friend of mine once grew a cucumber plant in the dry, unforgiving soil near her summer cottage. I didn’t think anything would grow there, but she cared for it every day—watering, fertilizing, and even speaking to it with love. And sure enough, the plant thrived, producing five cucumbers. It wasn’t just the nutrients it needed; it thrived because of the warmth and attention she gave it.

Humans, too, are like that. We can feel the difference when love is poured into our relationships. But how do we replace our irritation with love when we feel wronged? The answer, I’ve found, is to bring my frustrations to God. When I do, I feel a release—a change in perspective that eases the tension in my heart. The irritation fades, replaced by a sense of peace and warmth, and I find myself able to approach the person who once caused me frustration with kindness rather than resentment.

And here’s the most remarkable thing: when I allow God to fill my heart with love, the reasons for conflict seem far less important. The things that once seemed so critical melt away, leaving room for understanding, tenderness, and even joy. This process isn’t always easy, but it is always transformative. The key, I’ve learned, is to stay silent when anger threatens to take control and to begin praying instead.

Without God, it’s easy to become consumed by frustration and defensiveness. But with Him, we can build bridges of compassion where there once were walls of resentment. So, the next time we’re irritated, instead of reacting, let’s pause, pray, and open our hearts to the love that God so freely offers. Because with His guidance, we can find peace in even the most challenging moments.

Original article: radiovera.ru/kogda-razdrazhena-natalija-langammer.html