I’m not typically an angry person, but when bitterness
comes, it sticks. When I feel wronged, I spend months and years fantasizing
about justice or reconciliation with the offending party; all while holding my
most volatile and venomous emotions at bay (lest conscience force me to apologize to someone who owes me the apology!)
I wish I wasn’t that way. I wish I wasn’t so sensitive, so thin-skinned. On the one hand, I crave
the authenticity to just be mad, unbounded by the shackles of religious
sensibilities. On the other hand, I want to simply stop caring, to insulate myself
from people’s thoughtless remarks and cold indifference. But I’m learning
through my involvement in WDA’s Restoring
Your Heart, that numbness is a defense that may insulate me from pain, but
also insulates me from joy. I’m learning that it’s useless to deny when I’m
feeling bitter or angry or sad and that the quickest route to the other side of
those feelings is through. Through the venom. Through the emotions which if
fully explored threaten to completely overwhelm me and my community.
I’m also learning that forgiveness is a one-sided
transaction. I think I knew this on some level, but needed to see it in black
and white. You and I don’t need to become friends again for me to forgive you.
And forgiveness doesn’t mean I have to trust you not to hurt me again. That’s
the difference between forgiveness and reconciliation.
Forgiveness is a personal choice, and it’s primarily for my benefit.
Honestly though, it can feel like the most impossible choice
to make. How do I just will my
attitude towards a person to change?
So I laughed to myself this morning while reading Mark 11.
Jesus tells his disciples that if they ask for anything in prayer with full
confidence that they’ll receive it, it’s as good as done… Even if they ask for
a mountain to go jump into the sea!
But at the end, Jesus adds… oh yeah… “When you stand
praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father
in heaven may forgive you your sins” (v. 23).
Thanks a lot Jesus. In some ways, that mountain feels more
moveable than my bitterness.
But I think the same principle of praying in faith applies
to mountains AND forgiveness. In both instances, I’m claiming and trusting God
for something that hasn’t been fully realized: In the first instance, a
dramatic miracle. In the second instance… a dramatic miracle.
I’ve always seen forgiveness as the begrudging, painful
obligation of Christians. I’m beginning to understand that the ability to
choose forgiveness by faith restores an element of choice to victimized people.
I’m no longer a slave to what you did to me. I’m not a slave to my bitterness.
I can choose to trust God to give you the justice you deserve and release my
need for personal vindication here and now. And even if I don’t feel particularly forgiving right now,
I’m still choosing to forgive, trusting that God will seal the deal and heal my
bitterness.
Of course, it’s always been a multi-layered process for me.
If you step on my toe, I can forgive you today for hurting me physically. But I
may not realize until next month that I’m also mad you did it on purpose or that your actions are part
of a pattern of carelessness in your life. So I go as far as I can now and I’m
not bothered if I experience new levels of emotion later, which must be dealt
with at that time.
I’ve also discovered that on the other side of my anger and
pain comes a surprising empathy. It’s not contrived or forced. And it doesn’t
excuse your behavior. But suddenly, once I’ve expressed how bitter and hurt I
am about all the things you’ve done to me, I begin to understand the reasons you did them. That empathy opens
the door for me to accept you as a person
even if I can never accept or excuse your behavior. Empathy humanizes the
transgressor while still insisting on a specific code of conduct.
So this morning, I rehearsed a short list of lost
relationships and wounding parties which have needed progressive levels of
forgiveness from me. And feeling God’s presence out on the porch with me, I
spoke forgiveness over those broken relationships.
Suddenly out of nowhere, I said outloud, “and I forgive
myself.” Now where did THAT come from?!
Maybe forgiveness is a state of being. When we give or
receive forgiveness in any way, it begins to infect us. Forgiving others allows
us to receive and embrace God’s forgiveness.
Likewise God’s forgiveness emboldens us to forgive others. And both things
allow us to forgive ourselves. Suddenly forgiveness is flowing to and from every relationship in our
lives.
And THEN, we begin to live in a “state of grace”: the ONLY
place in the universe where justice and mercy can peacefully coexist. This is a
place that empowers victims, humanizes wrong-doers, accepts people, rejects
evil, and infects everything with love. I want to live there. Don’t you?
It begins with a choice, a prayer offered in faith.
Thanks for writing this. I think forgiveness is one of the most misunderstood concepts in Christianity. I have on several occasions, after setting boundaries, received the response that it's my Christian obligation to "forgive" them and my boundary-setting is indicative of being a bad and unforgiving Christian. Similarly, I have heard sermons which attempt to guilt those present into forgiving their enemies. We've forgotten that forgiveness is a gift, an act of undeserved mercy. Instead, we've adopted a sense of entitlement, identifying forgiveness as a basic human right. I believe this is due to a forgetting of God and an unwillingness to acknowledge the depths of our own sin and unworthiness. We focus on human forgiveness, forgetting that there is a God whose forgiveness we should also be seeking. If I forgive someone, it is to my benefit and, possibly, their detriment, because I've decided to let God deal with them. It's not, as you said, the same as reconciliation or a license for their behavior. Our forgiveness should point to God and serve as a reminder of why we are forgiving in the first place. It should lead those forgiven to repentence (not the other way around). But, due to our sense of entitlement, it often doesn't. Anyway, thanks again for writing this, as forgiveness, which is so central to the Christian faith, is so gravely misunderstood.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I appreciate your discussion of forgiveness as "multi-layered." Generally, when I or someone else becomes angry about an action that was supposedly forgiven, the assumption is that we weren't really forgiving in the first place. But, the truth may actually be that we were forgiving then, and we have the choice of whether we are forgiving now. I suppose we should cut ourselves some slack and understand that we aren't God and are probably incapable of forgiving the entirety of an action in an instant, as we aren't capable of grasping the extent of its effects or the depths of the sin from which it arose. Perhaps God intended it to serve as an illustration to ourselves of how our own sins have a much longer-lasting and widespread effect than we would like to admit.
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ReplyDelete[small edit:] For me, "forgiveness" seen as originally a financial concept, can de-emotionalize it somewhat. It starts with "you owe me." Then I may try to collect the debt, or not. Finally, I decide the collection effort is negatively affecting my life too much, so I write it off as lost, "a bad debt." God says "vengeance is mine. I will repay." So, while the debt was legitimate, I no longer waste time and energy and emotion trying to collect. I give it to my Bill Collector, God. And move forward with my life. Do I forget? No. God intends me to remember who the bad risks are, relationally. But I'm walking looking forward, not backward. I don't trip as much. I'm not distracted or pre-occupied by being on the lookout for someone, anyone, who can pay me back for what you owed. Full speed ahead! The emotions will take time, but the distraction is gone, and the power to "forgive" a debt is unilateral, mine, only takes one. Thanks, Nate!!
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