Sometimes forgiveness is easy.
Hey! That lady just cut me off! Crazy driver! Oh well, bless her heart. She probably doesn’t know any better.
Some things you can let go. Sure initially they boil your blood, maybe make you slip out a word you hope the three year old in the backseat didn’t hear, and maybe even go further, like riding on their bumper for the next two miles. Uhhh, not saying I did that. Just speaking hypothetically of course. Yeah.
Anyway, after you justify acting like a temper tantrum throwing toddler you usually gather your senses and let it go. You forgive the minor infraction because you realize it’s not worth your energy.
Little stuff is easy. But what about the big things? What about when someone hurts you? Like bad. They don’t simply cut you in line at Walmart or say something insensitive when you’re having a bad day already. No. I’m talking about the stuff that cuts the deepest.
Rejection. Divorce. Betrayal. Cruel treatment. Unless you’re in the minority of people who live in the magical land of make believe you have probably experienced at least one of these things to some degree. Maybe you’ve dealt with them all. Maybe several times.
I remember when I was a new Christian and I decided to forgive my biological father for deserting me, for not wanting a relationship with me. I’ll be honest. I was pretty proud of myself at the time. I was like, woohoo, look at me. I’m a big enough Christian to forgive those who trespass against me!
Right. Then I grew up, in more ways than one, and realized that forgiveness isn’t a one time deal when it comes to the hard stuff. It’s a continuous process. As years went by, and continued rejection and undesirable behavior persisted, I would learn that hate for those who hurt you can sneak into your heart quite stealth-like. I would discover that sometimes, most times, forgiveness is a continuous process, requiring a constant, purposeful desire to walk in absolution.
So I forgave. I forgave those who hurt me, deserted me, gave up on me, left me, or made me feel worthless. And I keep forgiving. Because that’s how you find peace, right? I mean that’s what everyone says. But is it that simple?
Meanwhile I saw a horrid story in the news recently. I don’t know if people are becoming more evil or if advances in technology and it’s ability to spread bad news simply make it seem more widespread. Either way you see more and more stories of harm against innocent children, little ones being hurt, even killed. And you question “why?”
It was a particular story that got me thinking. The father had murdered the innocent child, one he believed was not his and unworthy of living, and he had placed the child’s head in the driveway so mom could see it right away when she got home.
My first thought? Evil. Plain and simple. I couldn’t imagine any other cause for such an atrocity. Demonic influence perhaps? I could think of no other way a person could kill a child, and so maliciously at that.
Immediately my mind thought of Jesus on the cross, wrongfully murdered, a sinless Son of God slain. He said, “Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.”
I suppose some of the most awful crimes are performed by people unaware of the evil reality of their actions, unaware that they are doing wrong. But that doesn’t do anything to the sting caused by a life cut short.
I looked at the face of the weeping mother in the article. I felt her loss quake through my insides as I tried to imagine the horror of losing one of my babies at the hands of a mad man. It shook me to the core this loss of a stranger’s child. But what if it were my own?
Could I forgive the killer of my offspring? I honestly don’t know. I would like to think that I could. We’ve all seen the story of the preacher who forgave the young man whose driving led to the death of the preacher’s wife and unborn child. If you haven’t check it out here. His reaction is amazing and admirable, although the accident was that. An accident. So what of purposeful murder? Yikes.
I would like to think that I could forgive the murderer, the purposeful murder of someone I love. I know that my anger and hate would help nothing, and would in essence only make things worse for my healing. But I realize I say that in the safe reality of my children chattering in the backseat behind me. If one car seat sat empty, would I feel the same?
But He forgave them.
That changes the perspective a bit. No matter the most heinous crime, when repented of it is forgiven. It was forgiven on that day He uttered, “they know not what they do.”
But I did know Lord… I spoke this to Him as my mind churned away, contemplating His forgiveness.
I had forgiven, and was still forgiving, a father who gave me up, and a husband who had done the same. I had forgiven people who hurt me both emotionally and physically. I had even managed, after much time and prayer, to forgive people who had hurt my family, even the ones who had left deep emotional scars in those I held so dear, scars so deep they caused pain, pain that made the act of forgiveness even harder.
But who had I not forgiven? I was surprised to find it was myself. I knew I had been redeemed. The Bible told me so. And I knew my wonderful Lord had forgotten my transgressions. But I suppose I held on to them for myself.
I kept them stored in a place called regret. I was so burdened by my own guilt over sins I felt certain I knew better than to commit that I was unable to forgive like God instructs us to do. I couldn’t, wouldn’t forgive myself. Not completely.
God spoke, If I can forgive them, those you think are unforgivable, how could I not forgive you?
How many times do we accept God’s forgiveness, His covering of our sins, but remain held back from complete freedom by our own self-doubt that we deserve it?
Psalm 103:12
As far as the east is from the west,
so far has he removed our transgressions from us.
The title of the sin? Doesn’t matter. The amount? The duration? But I knew better! Irrelevant. Unimportant when compared to the immensity of God’s grace and love for His children.
To realize that He would have died on the cross solely for you, for your forgiveness. How can you not forgive yourself? How can you not forgive others? How can you not accept the freedom and fullness of life the act brings?
Maybe you don’t know what you do. Maybe you do. But I tend to believe that while a prisoner to sin you likely become blind to what you’re doing. So maybe in a sense you don’t know, even if you should.
But still He said, Father, forgive them…
And it was so.
For you. For them. For me. It was so.