Ain’t Nothin’ Magical About Forgiveness

*Disclaimer* I want to preface this by saying that the first lady and I met up during lunch yesterday and she said something that struck me. She said, “The Holy Spirit is a gentleman.”

She was talking about the Holy Spirit’s approach toward me.  He makes his presence known, but doesn’t seek to push me in an aggressive manner. He won’t keep calling me if I ask Him to stop.  Every once in awhile, though, He’ll check in, because maybe He’s catching me at a more convenient time.  If I ask Him to go away, He will graciously retreat and He will wait for me to acknowledge Him, patiently.

So true is it that I’ve not written in this blog for nearly a year, despite the many times I’ve been entreated by the Holy Spirit to do so. And even though I knew that I should, I was too bitter or simply too apprehensive to write from the heart with a sense of purpose. Yet, here I am, and this page remains. I suppose I have faith that I will starve in doubt after all.

So, yes. The Holy Spirit is a gentleman. This is me, giving in.

* * *

I want to talk about forgiveness, because to be honest it may as well be brand new to me, and I just have to share.  I’ll just get to it. As people who love and live for God, it is expected that we love without relenting and forgive almost impossibly. If you will recall: Jesus explains to Peter in Mattew 18: 21-35 that we must have the compassion to forgive each other.  Jesus breaks it down barney-style, just in case there is any confusion, and by the end of his explanation, it is clear that we are tasked to forgive seventy times seven…

“²¹ Then Peter came and said to Him, “Lord, how often shall my brother sin against me and I forgive him? Up to seven times?” ²² Jesus *said to him, “I do not say to you, up to seven times, but up to seventy times seven.

²³ “For this reason the kingdom of heaven ^[v]may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. ²⁴ When he had begun to settle them, one who owed him ^[w]ten thousand talents was brought to him. ²⁵ But since he ^[x]did not have the means to repay, his lord commanded him to be sold, along with his wife and children and all that he had, and repayment to be made. ²⁶ So the slave fell to the ground and prostrated himself before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me and I will repay you everything.’ ²⁷ And the lord of that slave felt compassion and released him and forgave him the ^[y]debt. ²⁸ But that slave went out and found one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred ^[z]denarii; and he seized him and began to choke him, saying, ‘Pay back what you owe.’ ²⁹ So his fellow slave fell to the ground and began to plead with him, saying, ‘Have patience with me and I will repay you.’ ³⁰ But he was unwilling ^[aa]and went and threw him in prison until he should pay back what was owed. ³¹ So when his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were deeply grieved and came and reported to their lord all that had happened. ³² Then summoning him, his lord *said to him, ‘You wicked slave, I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. ³³ Should you not also have had mercy on your fellow slave, in the same way that I had mercy on you?’ ³⁴ And his lord, moved with anger, handed him over to the torturers until he should repay all that was owed him. ³⁵ My heavenly Father will also do the same to you, if each of you does not forgive his brother from ^[ab]your heart.” – Matthew 18:21-35, NASB

That’s just the thing. I had no idea that forgiveness would be so difficult. I recently tried it and I got it wrong. A lot. It’s part of the reason why the heaviness in my heart was too much to carry or even share. I’ll be real with you. The past year was not the worst year of my life. It was pretty fun. It was full of adventures. But I also felt an ever-growing void inside of me because I thought I had acknowledged my pain that had been stuffed away. Here’s what I’ve learned, and continue to learn:

Lex Talionis.

Lex talionis, in Hebrew, literally means the “law of retaliation”. In the Old Testament, it was used to define the tenets of justice – an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth…a life for a life.  Essentially, the punishment had to fit the crime.  Plain and simple. But here’s where it gets a little tricky:  the purpose of instituting this principle was to take individual revenge out of the emotional hands of the people who’ve been wronged. It was the law of the land in the sense that the government would define justice, not the individual. Imagine what life would’ve been like if everyone had the temper of Samson and took matters into their own hands!  In this sense, the third party approach was the logical, seemingly civil, legal solution.

From an emotional perspective, sometimes you want the worst thing to happen to someone or you want them to suffer as much, if not, more than you.  We can empathize with a person who goes off the rails when someone deeply hurts them. We’ve been there; some pain is unspeakable and the desire for revenge is very human.  But revenge is a mere cheap thrill, I promise.  Never have I exacted revenge on someone without feeling terrible afterward. The pain doesn’t go away, and more damage is done. Even if a person gets what’s coming to them, it doesn’t erase the impalement on your heart.  It just doesn’t. It’s like taking 200mg aspirin for a migraine. Sure, it’s a temporary fix, if at all, but anyone who gets migraines knows it’s only a matter of a short time before that ever-debilitating pain comes roaring back.

Here is what I’m saying: lex talionis doesn’t fix what’s broken. It suggests we break more things to call it even.

It’s Work.

I think there are two parts to forgiveness: the Hebrew part and the Greek part. Here’s why:

In Hebrew, the literal word for forgiveness is nasa, which means to lift up, carry, take or bear.  It sheds light on places I’m fully aware of falling short. I sometimes kid myself into thinking that I can ignore a feeling or thought by compartmentalizing it, or dismissing the feeling, because I don’t want it. I won’t validate it. I won’t acknowledge it, because, well…acknowledging it means I’d have to deal with it. That means walking around with a huge lump in my throat. That means wanting to cry or feeling instantaneous rage. That means hurting. In this sense, forgiveness is so hard. I don’t play it down in any capacity. Yet sometimes I think as Christians, as people, we negate what’s actually bothering us because it’s the seemingly unnecessary part of forgiveness.  As cliché as it sounds, the way to move on is to move through it. You have to, or you’ll be a person who doesn’t realize you’re hanging on to past hurts as if they happened yesterday and are brand new.

The second part is the Greek part. The literal Greek translation for aphiemi means to release or set free.  That can be likened to forgiving a debt (like in Jesus’ story to Peter), or to let go of someone by way of divorce, to abandon or dismiss a topic for discussion.  You may laugh when I say this but this is the part that everyone ironically remembers.  When you hurt someone and you feel bad about it, you want them to forgive you and then forget about it as quickly as possible, right? We place a lot of emphasis on letting it go for the convenience of the offender.

Forgiving, however, is primarily for you (and for me – we are learning together). The need to let go validates the fact that you were held by an emotion that kept you prisoner. You are feeling bound by it. I’ve been guilty of putting things in a little box and shoving it away to a dark part of my mind so that I don’t have to deal with it. It’s like putting an outfit that you no longer wear to the back of your closet instead of taking decisive action on it– like tossing it out. Maybe that’s a stretch, I don’t know… I’m keeping it in my final draft. Let me get to the point…

Forgiveness allows us to let go of something that had a hold on us. When a person asks for your forgiveness, I suppose that’s nice. I think the answer to that should be, “Eventually.” I don’t think it should be, “Yes.” It’s a process to get to a point where you can say with full integrity that you’ve let something go. And that’s because as much as you want to do it for them, it doesn’t hold merit until you are ready to do it for your own sake. I hate to say it like that, but it’s the way we are made.

So how do we get there?

Let’s try together.  I think the answer is God. I think this is where He works His miracles.  I have tried so hard to forgive people in my own strength. I severed ties, gave winded explanations. What it boils down to is the raw fact that I did not appreciate the forgiveness process. I didn’t realize it IS a process. It doesn’t happen over night. It doesn’t happen by suppressing sadness or devaluing your thoughts. And oftentimes it doesn’t even happen when you’re just tired of not speaking to a person.

I only recently figured out the way to forgive is to go to God and let him know that you can’t do it in your strength. Ask for it in His because true forgiveness takes mighty strength.  If you’re not sure about this, just remember that at no point did Jesus say this was going to be an easy task – just that it had to be done.

I want to end this post by attesting to what I’ve learned forgiveness is not.

1. Going back to your regularly scheduled program – Forgiveness is NOT this. You can’t pretend it didn’t happen, even if the perpetrator wants you to take that route. Even if ignorant bliss was the life, it’s no longer reality. The reality is that some things are going to change, because people got hurt. To keep it real, forgiveness isn’t dumb. Forgiveness does not encompass a convenient forgetfulness. It doesn’t necessarily mean the outcome will not be better. Years ago, me and my friend Monica got into a fight. We were thick as thieves, so it was weird to be on the other side of the fence from her. But it was a moment in which we knew our friendship was real, because we were able to recover. We wanted to recover.
2. Forgiveness is not closure. Sometimes, it just isn’t going to happen. Which leads me to the next point.
3. Forgiveness is not reconciliation. It doesn’t mean you are going to be friends again or get back together. You may never speak again, but at least that person will no longer have a sickening hold on a piece of your heart anymore.
4. Forgiveness is not permission to become a repeat offender.
5. Forgiveness is not a substitute for justice. There are consequences for our wrong doing. It’s like getting into trouble with your parents. I mean, yeah, they still love you and forgive you, but no, you were still grounded until said period of time for what you did. It works the same way here.
6. Forgiveness is not simply allowing time to pass. But it does take time! There’s a difference. If you box your hurt up and ignore it for years, then pull it back out again, it’ll just feel like everything happened only yesterday. I can personally attest to this.
7. Forgiveness is not easy. Toss this idea out of the window. It doesn’t matter how much you love someone, you have to work through it in your time. You have to process it, you have to feel it. You have to acknowledge the realness of it.

That’s what I’ve learned.  I promise to revisit these ideas as often as possible and if it helps at all, I urge you to do the same.

Oh, and one last thing. Don’t forget to forgive yourself.

Paul, Daniel & The Reason I Cut Up My Credit Card

Weeks ago, I sat in a class that my Master Sergeant hosted called Financial Peace University.  It’s this really great seminar led and taught by Dave Ramsey – a man who loves God and gives the scripture credence to his financial success.  I remember at some point, Ramsey says to cut up your credit cards.  Shocking, but it made cents!  Ha!  See what I did there?

It’s interesting how all of my financial management classes and books shared a wealth of knowledge about borrowing money, yet no one said not to borrow money!  I mean, in America, we are way in over our heads in debt.  And I don’t mean mortgages.  I mean credit cards!  This is true.  No, we shouldn’t use our credit cards for fun or emergencies.  That didn’t make me run home after class and cut up my credit card.  In fact, I used it a few times afterward.

Fast forward a few weeks.  I’ve been paying more attention to the reason God blesses me. What is the point?

Look no further than Ephesians 2:10, where Paul says,

“For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

What does Paul mean by this?  He’s saying that we are servants as God’s children – servants tasked to bless others.  God creates us, builds us.  In His creation, we are “wonderfully made” (Psalm 139:14).  Through Christ, an act of sacrifice is made such that Jesus intercedes for our sin, which is awesome, because with that, God gives us another ingredient in creating us: grace. That is the true act of love that He bestows upon us, though undeserved.

Alright, alright. So what?

Well, think about it.  What happens when you’re feeling good, feeling supremely loved on? You’re lighter on your feet, energized, attentive and considerably nicer than normal, right?  You want to give, share a kind word, do more out of the goodness in your heart.  When we realize how God blesses us and shows us how much He loves us, our reaction is pretty much the same.  In realizing how truly special we are to receive so much from God, undeserved even, we show our gratitude and love by sharing the love! That comes by way of uplifting others in some way.  In essence, by sharing your blessing from God, you become a blessing to someone else.  Get it?

Phew.

So what does this have to do with cutting up my credit card?

Well, I think Ramsey’s teachings began to resonate with me.  There was a time when I had no money.  I mean, I was broke.  The struggle for me was as real as it could get.  So receiving a regular paycheck is a blessing to me.  What do I have to show for it though? What meaningful thing can I show for my gift? Yes, I sow into my church by paying 10% of my earnings in tithes.  Dutifully and happily, I may add! But my bishop said something jarring one day during service. He said we are asked to give 10% of our received blessing and keep 90% of it.

WOW, I thought. Considering how much God has blessed me, that’s practically nothing.  Is practically nothing truly the best I can do, considering how vividly I remember having practically nothing?

I guess you could say I became more thoughtful about it. I don’t want to rely on plastic, and I’d rather take the blessings I’m earning as a sergeant and pour it into things that will bless others.  Things like my church and people in need or who have been such a blessing to me.  Or the business that provides healthy food to people in low-income communities. Way better than t-shirts that I won’t wear a year from now.

Knowing this, I began to swipe my card with a feeling of conviction.  I didn’t like it.

Then, I began to read Daniel.

What I love the most about Daniel is how belligerent he is for God.  He has moxie.  From the very beginning, you know that Daniel is different from the other guys.  Here he is, ushered into Babylon, this place unlike his home.  In Babylon, the language is different, the style, the religion is different.  King Nebuchadnezzar wanted Daniel and his friends to relinquish their identity to Judah and for what it stands.  He wanted them to be like the Babylonians.  Daniel held strong in his truth, though.  He refused to change his name, be lured by fancy food and wine from the king’s table, worship idols and really could care less about the money or power that came with his promotions for interpreting dreams (Daniel 1-7).  He was a man of principle and understood the primary reason for his gift was not to use it as currency to acquire things, but to utilize it as a means to serve.  He submitted to and trusted in the Most High.  Even when the odds appeared stacked against him – from conniving co-workers to the attempt to feed him to the lions – Daniel prevailed.

What I think is so special about Daniel isn’t his ability to interpret dreams. It’s the way he came into Babylon. The Babylonians saw him as unwilling to relent, but I see a child of God whose faith made him unable to relent. Remember the first time Daniel interpreted the king’s dream?

“When Arioch, the commander of the king’s guard, had gone out to put to death the wise men of Babylon, Daniel spoke to him with wisdom and tact.  He asked the king’s officer, “Why did the king issue such a harsh decree?” Arioch then explained the matter to Daniel. At this, Daniel went in to the king and asked for time, so that he might interpret the dream for him.  Then Daniel returned to his house and explained the matter to his friends Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah.  He urged them to plead for mercy from the God of heaven concerning this mystery, so that he and his friends might not be executed with the rest of the wise men of Babylon. During the night the mystery was revealed to Daniel in a vision. Then Daniel praised the God of heaven…”   -Daniel 2:14-19

Did you catch that? Daniel took a chance by going to the king with an assurance that he’d come back with some kind of answer. He didn’t test the waters with God first, he just told King Nebuchadnezzar with confidence to stand by. His faith in God was so strong that he believed that praying to God would provide him with the right answer to the king.  That kind of confidence in the relationship Daniel has with God is what makes him special. Come to think of it, that isn’t moxie that we see. That’s faith. God provided as God deemed necessary, and in the most dire of circumstances, Daniel and his friends prevailed.

I’m trying to be more like Daniel in that way.  God gives me a lot.  In  return, I am on the hook for developing a confidence to utilize those gifts and blessings intelligently, and have the faith that when in dire straits, I can put my trust in Him – not my plastic. And so with confidence in the blessings I’ve already received, and with faith in what He will provide in my future, be it emergency or frivolous want, I took out my best pair of scissors, and cut up my credit card.