We all know we have
to forgive, but no one tells us how. And I'm not going to tell you how either,
because I simply don't have an answer. I'm sure there are thousands of books on
this topic, both secular and Christian. But really, there's no magical formula.
No 5 step plan. No 12 step program. You just forgive or you don't. You do it in
your own way, whatever works for you. Write it out, paint it out, pray it
through, scream it all out in the rain. Do what you have to do everyday, all
day, until you think you're done. Then do it some more. I had to choose to
forgive, or watch myself slip away. I was not liking what I was becoming, who I
was becoming.
One by one, I needed
let go of each and every reel. I needed to set them aside, unclench my fists,
and let them fall. I needed to drop them and walk away. It is the most
difficult thing I've done in my life. The most painful. The most confusing. The
most nauseating. Seriously, at times I think I might vomit. It is so unnatural.
You want me to forgive THAT person? That person
that nearly ruined my life?? You want me to just move on? Let go? And it
is a tooth and nail brawl to do the unimaginable, the exact opposite of what I
want. It takes a lot of work to build a brick wall. I can't tell you exactly
how much, or what is required. I'm not a brick layer or anything; I have no
expertise. But I do know that I have been building this wall for nearly 20
years. So…it's gonna take some time to have it removed.
With a deep breath,
the challenge of my lifetime begins. Does this sound weird: I have been taking
down bricks slowly, while continuing to build? I mean, I have realized I needed
to change a few years ago. Really, I knew all along but it is the few mindblowing,
breathtaking moments recently that hounded me until I went all in. So in some
ways parts of the wall are missing. The Ugly Grudge Monster has gone on a diet
and some of my reels of film have been taken out with the trash. But I still
have a long way to go. Some days I chisel away a good chunk, then the next I
build right on over my work.
The bricks I had
stacked started to loosen. The walls began to crumble, slowly. Brick by heavy
brick I am removing my wall. You can't expect to have it magically vanished.
You have to do the work. You have to remove every brick by hand, and dispose of
it properly. You can't just move them from one corner to the other. After some
time small slivers of light started to fall on me. Blue sky and
sunshine…finally. I can take a deep breath, and smile. It's not perfect. It's
not immediate. It is a process and each day it must begin again. It is a
choice. A choice to say, "I am letting go. I am forgiving. And I have
better things to do than hold on to you. Today, I want joy." It's not
perfect. It's not immediate. But it's happening. And I am determined to make a
change. And to forgive, we have to act. We can't just sit down and pretend that the bricks aren’t there, that the
moments don't really exist. We can't
pretend we have been unchanged. Forgiveness is knowing what happened, face to
face with the hurt, and letting it go.
For me, it is the
huge boulders that are the most difficult to get rid of. The ones that have
been the foundation of these walls. They're the ones I wrote about in detail in
the first post. The ones that stick with me. Their reels are the ones that
bring me to my knees every time. And how do I let these go? How do I move on,
move forward when they leave me raw and gushing several years later? How do I
do this? I don't even know where to begin. Where do I get the strength for
this? Is there enough in the world? Enough in me?
I have to make
another confession. I am not a daily Bible reader. I want to be, oh I so want
to be. I know I need to be. But it is a struggle for me. And it's really sad
because I am constantly reading. I was sitting around a few days ago, pondering
all of this -- forgiveness and whatnot. Thinking of how in the world I would start to make a dent in these huge,
foundational boulders. I grabbed my Bible and decided to just start somewhere,
anywhere. Leviticus? Um, no thank you.
Job? Too much of the same story of my life!!
Joshua? Sure…why not? So I'm reading and
reading…and getting bored already. (I'm just being honest here.) Then WHAM!
"As I was with
Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you…be strong
and very courageous…be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified."
I don't have to do
this alone. I can't do this alone. This is too much for any human person to
handle. I can't forgive others, completely forgive, alone. I need Him. I need
the strength and courage he has promised to give. Just as I was never alone
within my walls -- he was always knocking -- I am not alone in this. And when,
because I am only human, I don't feel like forgiving or I start pour more
bricks to harden, I can just lean on Him, take time with Him. Rather than
watching the reels of my most painful moments, I can lean on Him. And when I
find I have little hope of escaping this fortress I've built, I need only turn
to Him. For my hope is in the Lord. My hope is in Him, rather than myself or
others (for comfort or support) because he never disappoints -- he will never
leave me or forget me. I won't be forgotten? I
won't be alone? How unbelievably perfect and exactly what I have longed for in
this barren land.
Forgiveness. It's
not excusing or ignoring one's offenses. I'm not going to run back to those who
hurt me, as if nothing happened. I will not hold a grudge but I will also put
up boundaries -- small, little, short fences. Not towering walls of concrete and
stone. Also know that forgiveness it not fair. It's not fair that it's not
fair. The biggest lesson of all of this, ALL of this -- infertility, sorrow,
grief, forgiveness -- is that it is not fair. Very little will be on this
planet, a price for a fallen world dripping with sin. Life is not fair.
Forgiveness is not fair. And thank God! For if it were, I would have no hope of
freedom. If it were fair, all of us would be lost.
The people that have
hurt me, hurt us, will continue to live. They might be successful, powerful,
happy. They might (gulp) have lots of babies, and (big gulp) easy deliveries
and (choke) perfect children. They might never even know that they have hurt us.
And we might have to walk by them each and every day. But we can do this. I can
do this, YOU can do this. We can forgive, knowing that it is not fair, resting
in the truth that God is fair.
Forgiveness is not
fair, but my God is. My strong, faithful, loving God is fair. My God, who taps
and knocks and chisels away at our walls. My God who makes towering walls of
stone and concrete crumble, into pebbles and dust. My God who does see every offense.
My God who does know the hurt and pain and sorrow I've seen, I've watched play
over and over and over again. My God who has heard me shout, "How dare
you!" and cry, "They were right!" My God who heard every cry,
every sob, who has counted every tear that fell, hot and new, from my face onto
the ground of this barren land. My God is good, still good even when all of
this seems to wrong.
My God who sees me
is the same God who sees you. I think of Hagar often when I feel forgotten.
Running away, pregnant and sobbing, Hagar, who was forgotten and alone in a
barren land, was seen by God. "You are the God who sees me," (Gen.
16:13). And if she was seen by God, we are seen by God too. Even though others
might not see or hurt and pain and sadness, others might not know how they have
so offended us and crushed us and nearly ruined us, God sees it. He sees it
all. And we can know we are not forgotten.
We might like very
much to repay every offense according to our hurt and pain. According to what we believe is just and fair and right. But
even in our hours and days of seething and plotting, this justice will not be
perfect. We will continue to hurt and we will have only done what we wished had
not been done to us. We will be just as
wrong and unfair and unjust as those who hurt us.
Just as God has not
forgotten us, in our hurt and pain and sorrow, offended and accused, God has
not forgotten the offenders. God has seen the reels and he knows our pain. He
has seen each moment and his justice is perfect. Romans 12:19 tells us "Do
not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is
written, 'It is mine to avenge; I will repay'…Do not be overcome with evil, but
overcome evil with good." We shouldn't spitefully expect God to strike
someone down with lightning, but we should have peace, resting in the knowledge
that God, in his perfect timing and justice, will repay. And we may never see
this play out. We can know that we are not forgotten.
Forgiveness is about
love. It is loving others, even those who have hurt us. It is loving as Christ
loves us.
I'm still forgiving.
Choosing to grab onto love rather than holding a grudge. Every morning, every
afternoon, every evening, every minute I'm forgiving. Every time I think of
some way I have been wronged, I remember some moment that taunts me, that makes
me feel less than I was created to be, I forgive. And I have to. I've seen the
ugliness of unforgiveness, of grudges, bitterness and resentment. I've seen the
ugliness that can so easily morph into hate. I never want to be back in that
pit. After years of collecting bricks and laying walls and building my
fortress, I see now that what I really built was a pit. I deep, dark, lonely
pit.
A few months ago,
while being welcomed into a church we were visiting, I was hurt. Offended. An
elder approached us, did his little rehearsed "Welcome to Such and
Such…" dialogue then added his own "do you have children? You don't.
Oh well, if you continue to attend, you will soon. Everyone has been having
babies left and right!!" And I sunk into my seat. And spend several days
thinking about this event. This elder was warm and welcoming. He had no idea
what was happening in our lives, so he couldn't possibly have know that his
words may be hurtful. Yet, I was hurt. Sometimes we need to "forgive"
others even when there was no actually offense made. We need to let go. Sometimes we need to go through this
process for ourselves, to move forward.
And sometimes we
need to forgive God. We need to let go. Not that he has done anything that needs
forgiving, like that elder I ran into. Sometimes we have been hurt. And he
knows this. His plan might include allowing some pretty awful things to happen
to us, but not that we need punishment or that he revels in this torment. He
allows these things…for reasons we might never completely understand. And I'm
not going to pretend to give you reason. All I know is that I have learned from
my most awful moments. We may have been hurt during the working out of His plan,
and we may hold a grudge against Him. We refuse to pray, we stop attending
church, we get upset when others speak about Him. We might need to forgive, or
rather, let go of what we want, what we
had expected. We let go, understanding that somehow, some way this plan of His,
which does include pain, is better than what we could even hope to come up
with. And even though He may allow pain and sorrow and unspeakable events, He
also showers on love, beauty, hope and unspeakable joy.
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