On Forgiveness

Since walking away from shoulds and have-to's this year, I have to say my life feels a lot lighter, a lot less complicated.

One thing that's been plaguing me, though, is bitterness.

Something about being 40 causes me to ruminate, but if I'm truthful it's always  been something I'm good at. I think the kids being older has given me more time to process the last 20 years of my life or so. While I don't find I'm filled with regret, it recently dawned on me that my heart had become unforgiving toward some people and situations in my life.

I got to spend 24 hours away with a friend this weekend, a friend I haven't seen in over a year, and it was wonderful. I had a 90 minute drive to myself with a lot of quiet (and a little loud singing)  to let my thoughts roll around.

I caught myself reliving some of my most painful memories and wishing that some of that pain could be bounced back onto those who hurt me and mine.

Ah, I thought, there it is. The thorn that's been keeping my heart from moving forward is called bitterness and I've been unknowingly feeding it over the years.



 

I have a strong sense of justice, but like Jonah I forget that God's ways are merciful, that his desire is to his bring us all into relationship with him, even the worst of the worst.  I should be thankful that I don't receive his justice rather than pondering the justice I feel others deserve.

I'm sure there's a thing or two about that in the Bible.

 

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We both arrived at the Inn we were staying at, after exploring all 14 rooms decided we needed to eat.  Shanna still has little ones, three under 4, plus  three others from 7 to 15. Her large number of children combined with my four means  we can swap funny stories and parenting tips fairly evenly.  We discussed kids, homeschooling, husbands, politics, and religion.  I've always loved talking to Shanna because we can talk about Deep Things but never lose sight of the only thing that matters: our faith in Christ.

Everyone should have friends like this woman, and I'm grateful to have her, and several others, in my life.

After we finished our meal and a desert we didn't really like I confessed that I had a forgiveness problem. I confessed that I wanted to write mean letters to people who had caused pain in my life and let them know I thought they were douche bags.

Is douche bag a dirty word?

I think it might be.

It turns out that Shanna had recently listened to a sermon on forgiveness.

"Forgiveness means that you can see that person and treat them as if they did nothing wrong," she told me. I nodded because I understood, not because I thought that would be an easy task.

I told her of how hurt I was by people who I had mistaken as friends, who I had invested in, only to have them choose malicious actions. Something terrible happened to our family ten years ago, something that cost us what felt like everything. While we continued to move forward my heart was still broken,  and every negative event that came after stacked up on top of that crack, even sinking into it, deepening the fissure. I didn't realize I was only stacking up the hurtful moments.

Even after all this time recounting the events that unfolded caused me pain, deep pain, and a rash of hives.

"But think about it," Shanna said, "You're hurting more than they are. You're thinking about it and they probably don't. They've moved on."

Our conversation took us other places, then we were tired and ready to go back to our room so we could climb into bed and talk more, which we did.

 

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In the minutes before I fall asleep I always pray, and thank God for getting through the day. As I lay there that night, after our conversation on forgiveness, I asked God to help me find grace and mercy for those who had hurt my family, and for a reprieve from the bitterness. I asked him to help me forgive.

And that was it.

I fell asleep quickly and I woke up with a much lighter heart.



Seems that it is as easy as that. Turning away rather than turning towards the painful moments in my life is all it took. My shoulders didn't feel heavy and I was no longer stacking stuff up on top of hurt.

Here's the rub: I can go back to that old way any time I'd like; if I CHOOSE to. The decision is mine. I can tend the root of bitterness or I can cut it away and plant something more life giving, like grace and mercy. It's muscle memory, really, and I'm retraining my brain muscle. Every time I encounter acerbic thoughts I must turn away. Every single time.

My shield of faith is taking a few knocks, to be sure.

In my own strength I could not defeat my vengeful thoughts, but allowing Christ to do the work for me, with me, gets the job done. It's only been four days but I'm reveling in the beauty of forgiveness, of letting myself move away from the trap of of the past.

The thing that has surprised me the most was how ungrateful I had become. I thought I had long ago conquered that beast. I thought I had figured out a thing or two. I think it's like this: sometimes pain is a companion. I treated my hurt like a badge of honor, like I'd really been through something.

I had accidentally begun to downplay all the really awesome people God had put in my life and I was making idols of the ones who had not been so awesome.

So I'm starting a Gratitude Project.

I'm going to let people know how much they mean to me. I'll write handwritten notes, Facebook messages and e-mails. Today I took a deep breath and thanked someone in person for what they meant to me,  and that little act unwound something that had been binding up my heart. It was so good I can't wait to do it again.

I'll keep you posted as I go, and maybe you'd like to join in as well? 

Projects are always better with friends.

 

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