With as many stupid things as I’ve said at the wrong time to the wrong people, it’s a wonder to me that I’ve only been in one real fight in my entire life.  It was my 9^th grade year and I’d gotten under the skin of one of my middle school friends at the Homecoming Dance.  I can hardly remember what set us off but our ill-feeling simmered throughout the weekend.  Monday morning came and, with it, first period Algebra with Ms. Cox.  Getting there early, I took my assigned seat knowing that, soon, my nemesis, Brett, would come to his desk, which, as fate would have it, was exactly behind mine.

          You can probably imagine what happened from there, right?  Brett comes in, says something snide, I return the favor.  The next thing I recall we’re both standing up facing one another.  I’m fairly certain that Brett threw the first punch, but I honestly don’t remember.  I do remember the other students pushing all the desks away from us, into a kind of make-shift circle. 

          Thank goodness for two things.  First, that neither Brett nor I had any real idea how to fist fight.  We both threw looping, overhand punches that, even when they landed, did little harm.  The second blessing that morning was that Ms. Cox, normally a late arriver to her first period class, surprised everyone by being seven minutes early.  Her shrill cry, “Stop that NOW!” jarred both Brett and I away from the fisticuffs, turning respectfully towards her. 

          Of course, we were sent to the office, both seething mad at each other.  The handler of such matters, no kidding, was a man named Mr. Justice.  He told us we’d both serve detention that day.  Now I don’t know if it was pre-planned or not, but the detention proctor selected Brett and I to clean the campus of litter for the remainder of the hour.  It was during that time that Brett and I mended our fences, agreed not to continue the hostilities.  Although we were never as close as we’d been in middle school afterwards, we had not problems with each other and, on occasions, even went to movies together with a larger group. 

          Perhaps it was that brief flash of anger, that fight, which relieved us of our pent-up emotions.  I can’t speak for Brett, but after returning home from the high school dance, I thought about little else but him.  What I should’ve said, what I could’ve done.  Safe to say, in that interaction at the Homecoming Dance, I’d developed a pretty severe resentment towards him. 

          But, like I said, the physical exertion of the fight and the reconciliation which ensued was just the kind of relief needed.  Please, however, don’t get me wrong, I am NOT suggesting that the most expeditious means to resolve a resentment in a brief bout in the ring.  Quite far from it.  I do, however, believe, that resentments are poisonous stuff, to be sure and require our active and immediate attention. 

          Friends, I confess it before you – I may have only been in one actual fight, but I’ve had as many resentments as there are silly videos on Tik-Tok.  

          “Resentment is often defined as anger and indignation experienced as a result of unfair treatment, and it's a relatively common emotion.  Those who experience resentment may have feelings of annoyance and shame—they might also harbor a desire for revenge.” 

          Sound familiar?

          So, my guess is we all have one or two festering in our minds at this very moment.  Perhaps it’s annoyance at an acquaintance for not inviting you to their party.  Maybe a resentment arrived at your door when that idiot cut you off needlessly in traffic.  It could be the case that your resentments are much more significant, an ex-spouse, a boss that fired you.  Who knows?  It could be anything under the sun to be honest about it.  In my experience, I’ve heard people confess resenting all number of things – people, of course, but also institutions, companies, even God Himself. If that sounds like you and you’re willing to admit it within the confines of your heart – well, welcome to being a member of the human race.