"do you want to be free,
do you want to believe,
do you want breathe again,
live again, love again..."
I was scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed when my eyes caught the title of a post on the Sojourner blogsite, "Are Christians Supposed to Forgive Abusers?"
It made me think of Sara Renner's hauntingly beautiful song, "Forgive". It is a song that has brought such healing peace to me over the years.
But it also reminded me of an experience I had over 25 years ago. I was on a panel of speakers addressing the topic of addiction from a spiritual perspective.
We were fielding questions from the audience when a young mother stood up and asked, "What if my husband is abusive while using drugs, do I leave him -- or do I need to stay and pray for him? I love him but I don't know how to forgive him?"
The auditorium became silent. For some reason, the rest of the panelists turned to me -- perhaps because I was the oldest on the panel and a woman. But I felt trapped. I'd witnessed so much abuse in my life. I didn't know what to say. The atmospheric pressure in that hall felt heavy and demanding.
I stopped breathing and sat in the absolute stillness of my true being -- not a girl who'd been molested, not the young woman who'd been beaten unconscious -- but the daughter of God. Someone who had never been touched by anger or fear. One whose right to love had never been violated or stunted by trauma.
But what should I say? What could I say? The theme of the conference was, "The Love that Heals." And that was the thought that filled me like a soaring balloon. Whatever I said, it had to be about Love -- at every point.
I heard myself begin slowly, "Sometimes we have to love someone enough to separate ourselves from them when they are behaving -- or making choices -- that we absolutely know they will regret when they awaken from the dream of a false sense of who they are. We have to love them enough to say "no" in a way that doesn't allow them to act out those hideous lies in our presence.
In that moment, it became as clear as day to me -- Love is always the motive. Sometimes we have to leave. Not because we hate or despise the other person, but because we love them too much to let them use us in a way that they will regret. Not because we are afraid, but because we love their true nature.
We walk away from being a witness to any violation of their deepest humanity. We remove the opportunity for self-loathing. We let nothing obscure their path to self-forgiveness.
This wasn't just a cool thought. It was visceral. I felt the truth of this inspiration course through every vein in my body.
I didn't need to forgive the perpetrators of my abuse, or the abuse of others -- I needed to love them enough to not let my human thinking about them -- and our story -- get in the way of their direct and immediate relationship with God, divine Love.
In her "Daily Prayer," Mary Baker Eddy asks us to give up our right to be the forgiver, the savior, the assessor, the judge and jury:
"Thy kingdom come,
let the reign of divine Truth, Life, and Love
be established in me, and rule out of me all sin,
and may Thy Word enrich the affections
of all mankind and govern them."
let the reign of divine Truth, Life, and Love
be established in me, and rule out of me all sin,
and may Thy Word enrich the affections
of all mankind and govern them."
As I sat there listening to the other panelists share their thoughts, in response to her question, it all began to make sense to me. My job wasn't to figure out whether someone deserved my love, my forgiveness, or even my consent to their right to experience God's mercy -- my job was to trust God's direct and unwavering presence in their hearts. It is God's province -- not mine -- to make someone aware of their mistakes, to correct those lies, to move them beyond behavior that was regrettable. It is God's love that frees them from the bondage of falsely identifying themselves.
What I could do, was deprive anyone of "me" - as a prop in their dream. And I could do that out of love, not out of fear or anger.
I could separate them from my hurt feelings -- and thereby separate myself from them as well. I could forgive - forego - any sense of sin -- a word which shares the same etymological root as the word "sunder, to separate" I could forego the belief that I, or anyone else, could ever be separated from God as Love.
I could set clear boundaries for what was acceptable behavior from a child of God. I could love enough to not let someone violate those boundaries -- with me.
This was not about letting go, but letting God. It was about loving more, not less. It made room for healing and restoration. It opened the door to redemption and promise.
What it boiled down to -- was Love. Love, love love love love.
This insight has helped me more times than I can say.
When someone asks, "Do you forgive me?" I am perplexed and stunned by the question. I can't help but remember Jesus' beautiful plea from the cross:
What I could do, was deprive anyone of "me" - as a prop in their dream. And I could do that out of love, not out of fear or anger.
I could separate them from my hurt feelings -- and thereby separate myself from them as well. I could forgive - forego - any sense of sin -- a word which shares the same etymological root as the word "sunder, to separate" I could forego the belief that I, or anyone else, could ever be separated from God as Love.
I could set clear boundaries for what was acceptable behavior from a child of God. I could love enough to not let someone violate those boundaries -- with me.
This was not about letting go, but letting God. It was about loving more, not less. It made room for healing and restoration. It opened the door to redemption and promise.
What it boiled down to -- was Love. Love, love love love love.
This insight has helped me more times than I can say.
When someone asks, "Do you forgive me?" I am perplexed and stunned by the question. I can't help but remember Jesus' beautiful plea from the cross:
"Father forgive them..."
He doesn't say: "Father, show me how to forgive them." But Father, forgive them. The forgiveness is all Thine.
In referring to this Scripture, Mary Baker Eddy states in her last published work, The First Church of Christ, Scientist and Miscellany:
In referring to this Scripture, Mary Baker Eddy states in her last published work, The First Church of Christ, Scientist and Miscellany:
"In our struggles with sin and sinners,
the we drop compliance with their desires,
insist on what we know is right, and act
accordingly, the disguised or the self-satisfied
mind, not ready to be uplifted, rebels,
misconstrues our best motives, and calls
them unkind. But this is the cross. Take it up,
-- it wants the crown; and in the spirit of our
great Exemplar pray:
"Father, forgive them;
for they know not
for they know not
what they do."
In each of these profoundly practical statements of inspiration and guidance, we are looking at the most currently recorded words of two deeply spiritual mentors: Jesus and Mary Baker Eddy - on the subject of forgiveness.
Forgiveness is "of the Father." For me, Eddy's "Daily Prayer," and Jesus' example from the cross, are the highest sense of forgiveness known to man. Forgiveness is not mine to give. It happens in the sacred sanctuary of one's relationship with the Father.
While it is our privilege to step back -- and let the dear Christ enter in -- to heal.
While it is our privilege to step back -- and let the dear Christ enter in -- to heal.
offered with Love,
Kate
Kate
