Lord, Help Me Forgive

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil:  for thou art with me... Psalm 23:4

This kind of post is difficult to write.  As Paul so aptly pointed out, there lies within each of us two natures.  Never has that been more true in me than at this moment.  In my last post I confessed that I have hatred consuming me from within, and whined about how I wrestled with it.  Then this weekend, during the funeral of my dear, sweet Grandmother, I joked about it, made light of it, and even acted out a bit - much as a petulant 6th grader would do.  I know better.

Let me tell you how I know better.  For one, the very person for whom we were gathered taught me forgiveness.  You see, my mother and grandmother have always had an incredible relationship, one that could stand as a model.  When I was a teenager (and probably a thousand times before and since) I greatly wronged my mother.  Yet, years later when I "returned to the fold" so-to-speak, Gram welcomed me with open arms and that sincere loving smile, that smile that started with her eyes and ended with, "I love you Georgie."  I don't think I ever apologized to Gram for the wicked ways I treated the family, but she forgave me - just like that.  That was my Gram.

Then there's my mom.  Again, I can't imagine (and frankly don't wish to) how many times I hurt my mom.  I have done things in my life that, in most families, would create an unbridgeable chasm, yet mom has forgiven me so thoroughly and completely that I can barely imagine it.  Not only has she told me a million times (okay, hyperbole makes good copy), to forgive others, she has shown forgiveness, not only to me, but even to others whose forgiveness I could never picture.  That is my mom.

The rotten part of this is - it's all so very convicting.  Man!  I have this gut-kicking hatred in me.  Fury, berserk and perverse.  But not only do I hate this person, I hate that I hate this person.  I cannot continue to live this way.  It eats at me.  Like anyone else, I have a job that can be stressful, responsibilities that can keep me up at night, worries of the silly to the serious.  But this hatred, this fire inside, consumes me at times, it is the single most stressful thing in my life.  But why?

Because I was afraid.  That's right.  This person is a thief of the worst kind.  This person has stolen the trust and love of numerous people, stolen it, stomped on it and trampled it to a fine dust.  And this frightened me.  I had already lost so much to this person, and was afraid that I would lose the one thing, the one person I don't think I could bear to lose again.  And so this fear evolved, no - DEvolved, into hatred.  But I no longer fear.  I am no longer afraid.  And with the security of knowing that the thief cannot steal what cannot be stolen, I begin to think with a clearer mind.

I once asked my uncle how to deal with this hatred and anger.  His answer, so simple and profound, was - pray for him, it's hard to hate when you're praying FOR someone.  And that belies my dichotomous nature.  I have been praying, then I acted the boor.

My prayers went something like this:  "Lord, please strike him down."  I'm ashamed to say that, yes, I prayed that - for a long time.  After talking to my uncle, "Lord, teach me what to pray for him."  A couple days ago my prayers began to be more, "Lord, open his eyes."  Then, "Lord help!  I don't know what the hell to pray!"

I had a three hour drive today, and during a lot of it, I found myself praying.  My prayers started out with just thanking God for giving me such an incredible grandmother and such a wonderful mother.  Of course, I spent some time being selfish, prayers like, "Lord, help me be as loving as Gram and mom."  Then something happened...

Now, I don't have one of those relationships with God where he talks to me sounding like James Earl Jones or Sean Connery, but I gotta say, I had a very distinct message come to me.  I was praying about this hatred within me, when I suddenly was overcome with the knowledge that I MUST forgive this person.  I'll be honest - I immediately said a few cuss words and refused, but as I drove, I realized that this is what The Christ would actually do.  This is what Jesus actually did.  He forgave.  And so, this is what I must do, lest my Christianity be even more of a sham than I've already made it.

I don't know how it will work from here.  I don't know how there will be reconciliation or how relationships will be healed across the board.  When all are ready, I trust that God will make that happen too.  But in the meantime, I sincerely take the example of Gram, the forgiveness I have witnessed my mother bestow, and try to emulate He who has forgiven this wretched being.  I forgive, Lord - help me forgive.