"The heart of the matter...forgiveness"

"I've been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But my will gets weak
And my thought seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness..
Even if, even if..."
- Don Henley

Last night at church a number of people shared their thoughts about forgiveness. This is a subject that resonates very deeply with me. It's something I have wrestled with, extended, held back, felt, and longed for throughout my life. It is also a subject that I hunger to better understand. It seems so critical to healing. It has much deeper significance than just letting go of the past and its hurts...self-imposed or at the hand of others. Real forgiveness reaches beneath the surface of "who did what to whom and who deserves to be forgiven" to a place of self-surrender that isn't as easy as it sounds...or should be.

I could hardly get through last night's service without dropping my head in my hands and weeping. As I sat there barely moving with my eyes closed and hands folded....any movement would have dislodged the tears...I thought my sadness was about all the ways in which I longed to be forgiven for mistakes, mis-steps, thoughtlessness or fear-based decisions I held myself responsible for. As soon as the last note of the last hymn had been sung, I slipped out of my seat and through the door of our urban storefront gathering place rushing to my Jeep before the huge tears that had been pooling just behind closed lids began to fall. Once behind the wheel in my steel "closet" I let go and drove through a veil of tears on cloudless Spring night. As I prayed for some clarity about what I was feeling, I suddenly realized I wasn't actually hoping for forgiveness from someone...anyone...really. I was longing for a way to forgive myself.

I suddenly saw that no one holds us more accountable for past mistakes and hurts than we hold ourselves. If we have injured someone else we can say we are sorry and hope that they accept those genuine apologies, but we will never really know what is happening in their heart...that's God's province and it is a very private matter between the Father and His child. The real work for us is in forgiving ourselves.

A number of years ago I couldn't seem to function because I felt so wounded by someone else's choices. I was caught in a labyrinth of blame, anger, and hurt. I was a wounded creature limping through a maze of self-certainty that, "I didn't deserve what had been done to me" at the same time I held a vise-like grip on my right to withhold or bestow forgiveness. I couldn't put my hurt down and therefore didn't have the freedom to grasp what would lead me out of my own prison...all the while licking my wounds and snarling at everyone who approached trying to help. I finally got hungry enough to stop and beg for food. A friend tossed me a bone. She asked a simple question, "What did Jesus have to say about forgiveness from the cross?"

Well, I knew this story really, really well. It came out of my mouth without thinking, but on it's way out it must have passed through that cold region of my heart and started the sudden thaw that commenced. "Father, forgive them..." That was all I needed. By the third word I got it. Jesus didn't say "Father help me forgive them," or "Father what did I do wrong that I let them down as a Messiah and now I'm here...did I not pray enough or use the right words...please help them forgive me." No. He put the act of forgiveness where it belongs, between the individual and the Father.

In all actuality this is the only place it really can be accomplished. Any wrong done to another, or by another, needs to be seen for what it is, a fear that God is absent. What ensues is a reaction to that fear. When we steal, lie, cheat, say mean things, spread gossip or slander, judge another or show disrespect we are just afraid that God is not present to care for our needs, acknowledge our goodness, right a wrong, correct a mistake, or dispense justice. The offense may feel like it is directed at a person...often at us, or more sadly, by us...but it is really a statement about how we view God and whether we trust His government and care in our own lives and in the lives of others. When we realize this we can put the forgiving where it belongs...in His court of Fatherly love and wisdom. As an expression of genuine humility we can always apologize for our mistakes made, and as an expression of meekness, we can accept another's apologies as a gift of grace. But the real act of soul-penetrating forgiveness happens in the secret sanctuary of the heart...that place that is occupied only by the Father and his child.

But what, you may ask, about that hunger for self-forgiveness that made me weep alligator tears. Well, I am trusting that my Father knows my heart and I am putting even that desire for self-forgiveness completely in His hands. My job is to love and serve Him through my love towards, and service to, others...every second of every day. Moments spent is self-flagellating guilt, remorse and regret are not a good use of the resources He has entrusted me with...intelligence, affection, faith, hope, compassion, grace, kindness and joy. Guilt, remorse, self-hatred and regret will never "feed the hungry, heal the heart." They do nothing to honor His presence in my life and they are a waste of His generous gifts of Love.

The Lord's Prayer says, "Forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors." This statement took on new meaning for me last night. As I drove past the park, filled with children playing, redbuds in bloom, dogs running and disporting themselves on suspecting couples walking hand in hand, and the early blossoming of daffodils, magnolia and tulips, I realized that I wasn't applying the same approach to my own need for self-forgiveness that had become quite natural to me in thinking of others. I wasn't saying within my heart...about my own deeply regretted mistakes..."Father, forgive her..." and leaving it all in His care. Leaving it between a Father and His beloved daughter. Trusting Him to watch over her heart, her future choices, her words and her works with a Father's devoted attention and love.

His grateful daughter,
Kate