For When You Think You Cannot Forgive

I was heartbroken. I felt angry, hurt, and betrayed like never before. 

How could they say such things about me? How could they lie that way? I was blindsided and I didn't know how to process what I had just learned. I had no idea how I would continue to face them day after day and, worse yet, how I would continue to serve them and do life with them.

In desperation, I found a quiet spot and fell to my knees, begging God to take the pain away, to see justice done, to avenge my innocence. Instead, unmistakably as I had come to recognize, the Spirit of God whispered gently to my soul, "I want you to forgive them." "How?" I despaired for I didn't have the strength or the will. "I'll teach you," He replied.

And the journey started.

First, I had to understand the importance of forgiveness.

The Bible tells us that forgiveness is not an option in the life of a follower of Christ. It is a mandate that God takes very seriously. So seriously that He has said He would not forgive us until we forgive our neighbor...with all our heart.  No doubt forgiveness is difficult and it is costly, but it is necessary. It frees the heart and strengthens our relationship with the God who gave us the ultimate gift: His forgiveness.

Once I understood why I should forgive them I started to pray for the strength to make the decision to forgive.

Forgiveness is a choice and the decision to forgive often comes much before the feeling of forgiveness. It may take a while, but while we carry un-forgiveness our spiritual growth will be stunted. Un-forgiveness is that powerful a poison to a spirit.

One of the toughest moments was coming to accept that the people who hurt me may never apologize or admit their wrong. Forgiveness does not depend on the offender. We stand alone before our God and when we pray "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." There is no caveat that states "as long as they have apologized."

So I decided to forgive. And I moved on. Or so I thought.

But not long after, I found myself seemingly backsliding. I was still angry and hurt and I felt the work of forgiving was not going forward or well. In fact, there were days when I didn't want to forgive anymore. I wanted to still be mad. 

And I was ashamed for feeling that way. After all, God was walking me through this path to forgiving.

It was then I realized I had to pray that to be able to give myself grace as well.

I had to remember that just because I decided to forgive it did not mean that the hurt, disappointment, and desire for justice would just disappear from my heart. Deciding to forgive alone did not change my circumstance: the wounds were still fresh, the pain was real, the anger burned, and the desire for justice and revenge lingered.

But I had taken the first step. 

I had chosen to walk in the path of love rather than remain in the path of brokenness. And when I recognized that my feelings had not just magically gone away, I began to pray for wisdom to deal with the residual feelings.

Feelings are fed by thoughts. Dwelling on the offenses nourishes our anguish. I decided to stop feeding the hurt by capturing my thoughts and memories and laying them at the foot of the cross daily, minute by minute if necessary.

As I began to think forgiving thoughts and chase any others that fought my will to move forward, slowly, very slowly, everything else began to fall into place. One day I realized that, while I could not yet wish my enemies well, I no longer wished them ill.

Then one morning, the anger had changed to dull pain that no longer burned inside me but rather made me feel sad and sorrowful. In a little while, the pain began to ease. The wounds began to heal.

But what of justice?

They were wrong for what they did to me, after all. I brought this to the Lord and He began to teach me to pray for the faith to believe that He will deal justly, fairly, and mercifully with my enemies and with me.

He showed me that, while I was not quite ready to pray for the well-being of those who hurt me so deeply, He loved them and Jesus died for them as well. He asked me to let him be judge and executor. Neither revenge nor bitterness would help me move on, anyway. I had to trust that he saw my pain and that He alone could heal my heart.

Disciples of Christ are taught we are to forgive those who hurt us and pray for those who persecute us, all in the same sentence. But it is not always possible to do one right after the other.  There can be a great big gap between forgiving someone and being able to pray for them and it usually takes divine intervention to do so.

As God began to heal my heart, however, I found myself more able to feel compassion for those who caused my pain and praying for their well being.

Since I had to interact with the offenders daily, I also felt the need to pray for wisdom to understand what forgiveness meant in this situation. Does it mean seeking out the offender for reconciliation or simply no longer avoiding them? Does it mean trying to restore the relationship or simply moving on? Each situation is different and the Lord should guide our path in this as well.

Once I was able to see the situation from a more cool-headed perspective, I found that God was leading me to pray for discernment to see if I had a part to play in the situation that now required forgiveness.

This is not always the case, but many times there are two sides to an argument. In my case, I found that part of the fault in the breakdown of the relationship was mine. To the best of my ability, I apologized to those I offended, repented before God, and worked on forgiving myself as He forgave me.

The journey did not end there, however. I had to pray for God to help me with this process as often as I needed during that season of my life.

There were days when a phone call, a note, a careless comment seemed to revive the wound that had scabbed over, and it bled anew, but there was new skin that had built around it already and it no longer bled as long or as violently as when it was first inflicted.

Healing was happening.

It wasn't easy and it took a long time, and still today, any time I am hurt by someone I have to remember and revisit the steps I must take to get from the side of justice to the side of mercy.

Since that situation, I've had plenty of opportunities to practice forgiveness in many other circumstances and with many other people. And I've given others opportunities to work on forgiving me as well!

They say that the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Walking towards forgiving can feel like a long journey of many steps. No matter the hurt or situation you are going through, go ahead and take the first one today.

You will find peace at the end of the road.

And freedom.   

For the heart in chains...

It's so easy for a heart to be put in chains. 

It only takes an unkind word, an unjust situation, an unfair accusation for a heart to go in bondage under the pain. 

And it weighs. 

It is heavier than a boulder inside your chest. The iron shackles surround it and threaten to drown it in grief. 

The offender wraps the first few chains around it and we add the rest link by link.

When we refuse to forgive, when we feed the thoughts of revenge, when we verbally assault the wrongdoer in our minds, arguing for days with their memory, always winning: sometimes with reason, sometimes with ugly words, sometimes with righteous anger, but always winning. 

Relishing the idea of a confrontation where we come out victorious, but forgetting that when a relationship is broken, nobody really walks away the winner. The real confrontation is rarely as we imagined. There is no penitence on the offender's part, no ready apology, no bowed brow or downcast eyes. There is defensiveness, and frustration, and truth flung back at us that we may not want to hear. It is often messy, always hurtful, and many times disappointing.

So how will this heart lose the chains of having been wounded that are pulling it deeper and deeper into darkness? 

Only when we forgive the undeserving, the one who does not even think he requires mercy, the one who will never utter the words we long to hear. Only then. Only when we give the pain back to the One who suffered like no other and more unjustly than any other, for him to take and to exchange us for peace and mercy. Only then. Only when we let go of the desire to confront, the right to speak our piece, the need for an apology. Only then.

"Come to me, you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest," He said. 

There is no heavier burden than un-forgiveness. There is no more wearisome life than the life of the offended. 

"For my yoke is easy and my burden is light," He said. 

There is no harder yoke than the yoke of self-righteousness. There is no stronger bondage than the bondage of anger. And there is no emptier existence than the existence of those who don't know how to unburden themselves of these shackles.

"I have come that they may have life to the fullest," He said. 

When a heart is drowning in the pain resulting from living with others just as flawed and sinful as itself, grab onto Him who is Life himself and let Him pull you out of the mud of tears and the mire of shattered friendships, and set your feet right back onto the rock of his grace and forgiveness that will then flow out of you and onto others and... 

Set you free. 

A Fair Exchange

I had been slighted, forgotten, ignored. Their words had left me feeling unimportant and invisible; their actions had left me feeling rejected and inconsequential. I had been overlooked and it hurt. It broke my heart because I thought I could trust them. I thought they loved me and I knew I loved them. We were friends, after all. Close friends.

I sat in my bathroom, tears pouring down my face, wondering if it was worth bringing it up to them. Did they even notice? Would they think I was being oversensitive and dramatic? Would they apologize in true surprise or would they dismiss me as exaggerating? I was afraid of the confrontation because I was feeling raw and insecure about our friendship as it was.

So I let liquid disappointment pour out from my soul and my first attempt at reaching up to the Lord was a tirade of accusations towards my offenders. I ranted about their insensitivity and their lack of understanding. I raged about the unfairness of the situation and I bemoaned my own thin skin and my sensitive nature. I was angry and I was broken-hearted and I wanted his audience and his sympathy.

I wanted to hear God say that I should approach them to let them know in no uncertain terms how they had made me feel. I wanted to hear that I was right, that I deserved an apology, and that I was justified in demanding one. That He would be my avenger and my shield bearer.

But He didn’t. And I should have known. 

The One who had been slighted, rejected, and broken in worse ways than I could even imagine, who did not defend himself, who was quiet and gentle like a lamb led to the slaughter had these words for me:

Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light (Matthew 11:28-29).

And slowly, very slowly, as my soul began to settle, I began to understand. He wanted me to leave on the altar of that bathroom the heavy burdens under which I was collapsing: my pain and my disappointment, my injured pride and my self-righteousness, my unforgiving spirit and my need for restitution, my insecurity and my need for recognition, my self-pity and my indignation, my frustration and my anger, my requirement for fairness and even my desire for an apology.

He was asking me to let it go for the sake of the relationship.

In exchange for the sacrifice He was offering another yoke. A much lighter yoke. A yoke I would not carry alone and that would not bend my heart over with its weight: forgiveness and compassion, peace and joy, service and a worth found in Christ, understanding and mercy, hope and trust, and love.

I unloaded my heart that day before Jesus and I walked away from the pain. I let it go. And the next time I saw them, I hugged them, and laughed with them, and I joyfully prayed for their needs.

And, as He promised, my soul truly did find rest.


 * Joining today with Emily at Imperfect Prose *