We hear a lot about forgiveness as Christians and I used to think that it was something that I had down, no problem. If someone does something to hurt me, I’m pretty good at forgiving them if they ask; I can even manage to let something go if they don’t ask. But I’m learning new things about myself every day.
A few weeks ago, Chris and I attended staff training about mentoring and in the meeting a particular issue came up. I remembered something a mentor had done to hurt me many years ago. This person had wounded me deeply, but no one had ever told me that what they had done was wrong. I can actually remember other people affirming that I was the one at fault and I was asked to apologize to that person. This experience had remained with me for years, but I didn’t realize it was still bothering me until I heard someone else tell me, “That was immature and wrong of them to do that to you. Strangely, hearing the truth about that event instantly set me free from the weight of it. It was like a cool wind blowing into a hot, stuffy room. I could breathe again.
This got me thinking about an aspect of forgiveness that I had overlooked. In order to forgive as God has commanded us, we need to face the wrongs done to us. I used to think that acknowledging a wrong against me would make it more difficult to forgive. I’m generally a non-confrontational person, so it’s easiest for me to pretend that something didn’t happen. But, with God’s wisdom, there are ways to say plainly, “That wasn’t right.”
Sometimes, forgiveness is easy and other times it reminds me of trying to coax a terrified person over the edge of a long cliff. They are holding onto the rope, fingers frozen around it, and it takes all their resolve to listen to the voice of their belayer, “Just let go of the rope, and trust me. I’ll get you down safely.” When it comes to the big offenses in my life, I’m often that terrified person and Jesus is there, calmly and patiently urging me to surrender and trust. But there’s also a forgiveness that’s like arriving at a backcountry camp and sitting down to catch your breath. Then Jesus turns to you from his seat by the fire and says, “Why don’t you take off your pack and sit with me by the fire?” You suddenly realize why the hike took so long. Your shoulders are weighted down with a nasty, off-balance backpack. You had forgotten it was there, but now you’re not sure you can get the thing off by yourself. “You’ll feel so much better when you toss that aside,” He says, reading your mind. So you do. And He was right; it does feel so much better!
