Tag Archives: Christianity

Grow Towards the Son

Posted on by

I have a basil plant sitting in my kitchen window. He’s a survivor, that plant, for he’s lived here for months now and hasn’t been killed. Plants generally come to my home only to meet their maker. I don’t mean to kill them…I just forget to keep them alive.

But that basil, he fights on and on. When I first brought the basil home he was bushed out in all directions with his fragrant leaves going everywhere. After months in the window he’s grown bald on one side with all his leaves growing only on the other side—the side facing the window. His leaves face the glass, soaking up the sunshine (as much as can be had on a short winter’s day) and watching him stretch towards the light makes me think—he grows toward the sun.

He reaches for the light, the warmth, the food that foods his green little veins and watching him makes me wonder—shouldn’t I too be growing towards the Son? Toward the light, the warmth, the food that feeds my soul?

It’s a simple thought wrapped up in a hard lesson and I’m reminded to turn my back on what doesn’t feed my soul and turn my face towards the only light that does.

I’m reminded to grow towards the Son.

Confidence and Insecurity

Posted on by

I struggle a lot with insecurity. I worry about how I look and what people think of me. I’ve been thinking about why I feel so insecure and care so much about other people’s opinions. What I realized was pretty simple: I worry and feel insecure because I’m filled with pride.

Here’s the pattern I see:

{1} I’m filled with pride so I worry about what other people think of me.

{2} Because I worry about what other people think of me, I feel like I need to look and act a certain way to be good enough.

{3} To look that certain way I spend too much time, thought, and money on clothing and my physical appearance.

{4} Then I end up comparing myself to other people to see if I’m good enough.

{5} If I don’t feel good enough, I get jealous and competitive and try to outdo other people.

{6} If I compare myself to someone and decide I’m actually more attractive or talented than they are, then my heart is filled with pride and an I’m-better-than-you attitude.

{7} Because I’m worried about what people will think of me, I hide behind silence. I’m afraid if I start talking I’ll say something stupid and people won’t like me. I only say what’s safe. I only write what’s safe. I don’t really let people in or share my heart.

When I base my value on the opinions of other people, I end up feeling like I’ll never be good enough. I’ll never be as smart, funny, or talented as that other writer or as thin and put together as that other girl.

I tell myself if I could just have that outfit, or more friends, or a more popular blog—then I will be good enough. Then I will be confident and satisfied. Then I can be the person I’m supposed to be.

But these are all lies I tell myself.

Because the problem isn’t my outfit or personality or anything else about who I am.

My problem is in what I look to for security.

If I’m looking to myself or to other people I will never find satisfaction or peace in my heart. My heart will only ever be filled with pride and jealousy.

The problem isn’t who I am. The problem isn’t who I’m not. The problem is when I try to find myself in anything but God.

Donald Miller said,

“None of us are here by accident. We were born because God loves to create. And He was pleased when you were born.”

He’s right. And if I could just believe he’s right then maybe I could finally have peace in my heart about who I am. Because who I am is exactly who God wanted me to be.

I’m not perfect, but I’m complete in Christ.

I’m not the outfit I’m wearing or how much I weigh. I’m not the number of friends I have or the amount of money I make.

I’m a part of God’s creation, a chapter (or line) in his story. The story isn’t about me and I’m not the author. This is his story and I’m here only to play a part.

God has a plan for me and a part he wants me to play in his narrative. It would be a sad waste to spend my whole life trying to tell a story about myself instead of him.

It would be a sad waste to worry more about what people think about me than what they know about my God.

It would be a sad waste to spend all my time and thought trying to be the prettiest girl in the room so people will look at and admire me rather than helping others look at and admire my God.

What a waste of words to write only the safe things that will make people like me rather than the scary things that might point someone to something so much better than anything I can offer.

What a waste to spend my life silent and insecure because all I think about is the story I’m telling rather than the greater narrative in which I play a part.

As long as I look to myself and the opinions of others, I will remain proud and insecure. But if I will look to Christ and find my small place in his great narrative, then I can live with the confidence and security I need to accomplish all I am meant to do in this life.

Everything I Ever Wanted

Posted on by

I realized recently that God has given me everything I ever asked for and I never even thanked him.

What I did was complain about everything he’s ever given me.

What I did was come up with a new list of things I wanted.

I wanted to love and be loved; so God gave me an incredible husband—who I complain at when everything doesn’t go my way.

I wanted to get out of our downtown apartment and live in a real house; so God gave me a beautiful home—that I can’t wait to get out of.

I wanted a better job with normal hours and better pay; so God gave me an ideal job with amazing hours—that I complain about because I work too much.

I saw it all laid out before me this morning—the pattern that keeps repeating itself. I want something different, something better. God gives me what I ask for. I fail to thank him or enjoy his good gifts because I’ve already moved onto the next thing I want—the thing I know will finally make me happy.

I am humbled by this realization: God has given me everything I ever asked for and I never even thanked him.

Using Prayer as an Excuse for Inaction

Posted on by

It’s easy when we hear about needs and problems in each other’s lives to promise we’ll pray for one another. Prayer is of course a very powerful and important resource in our lives. But sometimes prayer can be misused as an easy way out of taking action in the lives of those who are hurting. We misuse prayer when:

1) We fail to see how we can help each other by taking action: We mean well when we promise to pray but it’s easy to overlook the practical ways we can help on a physical level too. In addition to our prayers we could:

  • Take a meal to a new mother, someone who is sick or injured, someone who is grieving, or to a family struggling financially.
  • Listen to someone who just needs to talk through feelings and be heard.
  • Volunteer time to help around the house or yard or to run errands.
  • Babysit for a busy mom or someone who is sick or grieving.
  • Write a letter to encourage and let someone know they’re being thought of and aren’t alone.
  • Say yes as much as possible when asked for help or a listening ear.

“I learned that faith isn’t about knowing all of the right stuff or obeying a list of rules. It’s something more, something more costly because it involves being present and making a sacrifice. Perhaps that’s why Jesus is sometimes called Immanuel—‘God with us.’ I think that’s what God had in mind, for Jesus to be present, to just be with us. It’s also what He has in mind for us when it comes to other people.” Bob Goff (p. 8 Love Does)

2) We use prayer to turn a blind eye: Sometimes we don’t want to get involved in other people’s lives or in problems that seem too big for us. We hear about kids being run through the foster care system needing loving homes and families but we’re afraid or overwhelmed by the idea of bringing a child into our own home—so we say we’ll pray instead and never really stop and consider if there’s more we should be doing. We notice the mom who always snaps at her children in public and never stop to consider if she needs rest, help, or encouragement. We don’t want to get our hands dirty. We’re too busy and too tired to get involved in the messy lives of others so we say we’ll pray (and perhaps we even do) all the while turning a blind eye to the physical needs all around us.

“Jesus told the people he was with that it’s not enough to just look like you love God. He said we’d know the extent of our love for God by how well we loved people.” Bob Goff (p. 15 Love Does)

3) We use prayer to guard ourselves from heartache: Getting involved in people’s lives can get messy. When you open your heart up to love and action, you open yourself up to the possibility of getting hurt. It’s so much easier to say, “I’ll be praying for you” than it is to get in the trenches and ask, “What can I do to help?” But the love of God is a love deep enough to take action—to take risks and offer love in spite of the potential for heartache. God did not guard his heart from us; we should not guard ourselves from others. God’s heart was broken for us—will we let our heart be broken for him?

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” C.S. Lewis in The Four Loves

4) We use prayer to cover wrongs rather than dealing with them: Sometimes when we say we’ll pray, all we really need to say is, “I’m sorry.” I know of a situation where someone has been wronged and hurt by someone else. The wrongdoer tells the wronged that they’re praying for them but those prayers (however sincere) are falling on deaf ears. Until the wrong has been made right, prayers will only add insult to injury. The person hurt does not want to be prayed for; he wants only to be apologized to. And until an apology is made, prayer comes off as arrogant and insincere. If you have wronged someone, make it right with them—not just in your prayers to God but in your actions toward the one you have hurt.

“We don’t like to put hands and feet on love. When love is a theory, it’s safe, it’s free of risk. But love in the brain changes nothing.” Donald Miller

God’s love is played out in verbs as should be the love we have for each other. So, the next time you tell someone you’ll pray for them—do so—and then ask what else you can do to demonstrate your love in action.

Perspective

Posted on by

I spent Saturday exploring Plymouth, Mass where the Pilgrims first explored this land. In the late afternoon, a storm blew in over the ocean. A fierce wall of slate gray clouds stretched like reaching hands over the face of the water bringing darkness and chill of cold air over everything it touched. I stood by the bay awestruck (and a little scared) by the clouds billowing and changing overhead. There’s no view quite like a storm at sea. You stand by and watch as in slow motion the storm reaches and stretches consuming every sliver of sunshine and blue sky in its path. Huge swaths of rain fall and wave like ribbons. I stand on the bay snapping pictures of the ever-changing sky until the winds blow hard and the drops begin to fall–then it’s a race back to the car before the torrents let loose and all the slate gray from above comes splashing down below.

Today I’m home caught again in the ruckus of a thunderstorm. The rain falls fast and hard as the gray clouds zip by overhead. But today I can’t see the storm–only the rain and the sound of thunder. There’s no panoramic view or way to gain perspective on all that rumbles above. I couldn’t see the storm coming and I don’t know when it will leave.

Isn’t life the same? If only I could stand on the bay and watch life stretch out before me. If only I could see the story beginning to end–dark though it may be and threatening, at least I would know. I would know when to stand in awe snapping pictures of the overwhelming beauty and when to run for cover from the heartache and hurt. But life doesn’t give us warning or panoramic views. Life doesn’t tell us when heartache is coming or when it will leave. We stand in the storm seeing and hearing only the rain and thunder–not the beauty and majesty of the clouds that bring our trouble. I think of the storm at sea, and try to remember that even trouble falls from beauty and brings beauty in its wake. The storm lasts for a season and at times we believe we will be consumed–but we won’t. There is brightness after the rain. Rainbows to bring light, color, and the hope of a promise.

God may come in storm clouds dark, fall on us in trials and pain–but there is beauty in the panorama of it all. If we could stand on the bay and see his plan–see his purpose stretch out in fierce beauty from beginning to end–then we would understand. Then we would be awestruck at his divine plan. We would stand in the falling rain, and though we may be afraid of the storm clouds and thunder overhead, we would see there is a beginning and an end–a purpose stretching with beauty and hope through all the dark clouds and rain drops that beat around us.

Though you stand in the thunderstorm and see no plan. Though your heart is broken and overwhelmed. Know, always know, there is beauty overhead. Know the rain falls from beauty and brings beauty in its wake. Know, always know, there is a plan.

The Too Busy Church and What it Has to Lose

Posted on by

Church is a very busy place. In addition to the regular Sunday services, many churches also have programs galore for all ages almost every day of the week. The programs alone are not a bad idea; having a Bible study for women or a special activity for teens can go a long way in building relationships both with God and each other. But in trying to be actively involved in church, many families find themselves pulled in a million directions all at once. You worship together as a family on Sunday, mom is gone to a program for ladies on Tuesday, you’re back for prayer meeting on Wednesday, your teenager is dropped off for a youth activity on Thursday, and your 3rd grader is taken to a special program on Friday. Don’t forget the men’s prayer breakfast on Saturday and you’re back again on Sunday morning. And that’s just church stuff–not work, school, or any of the other activities a family participates in.

We have families running, running, running trying to keep up. But what are we keeping up with anyway? With each other? With the expectations of our fellow church members? With God and what we perceive he requires of us? With our own perfectionistic standards? What? Sometimes when we are trying our hardest to do everything right and make everyone happy, we lose sight of what actually matters most. We exchange the busyness of activities about God for quiet time actually spent talking to God. We trade programs intended to build up families for actual time with our families.

Don’t get me wrong; I’m not trying to bash church or any of the opportunities a church offers. I know each program offered is meant to help believers, not hinder them. I love my church family and love the time I get to spend with them. But I also see individuals and families are the building blocks of any church. If families grow too busy to spend time with God and each other, then the building blocks of a church can begin to crumble. A church family is only as strong and healthy as the individual families of which it’s comprised. If families are falling apart because they’re too busy to stop and listen to each other, to solve problems and grow together, what will become of the family of God as a whole?

With all the opportunities and distractions life offers, I only hope we can learn to keep our priorities straight. To love God first–and because we love him and desire to worship him together–to gather in church as the family of God. But in doing so, not to become bogged down and distracted by extra activities that pull us away from what should be our next priority–our families. If we want to honor Christ and worship him together, let’s honor him privately in our individual lives and homes by setting aside all that weighs us down and focus on all that brings us closer to him and the people who matter most. Let’s value our families and the time we spend with them, remembering if we lose our relationships with them, we have already hurt the family of God even if we do show up for church on Sunday.

Not Without Light

Posted on by

On Sunday, Darren and I drove home from Maine with our two little nephews in tow. One of the boys was chattering from the backseat about the moon and about how dark it would be at night if we had no moon. The other nephew confidently informed us that earth has two suns and there was no convincing him otherwise–but that has nothing to do with this conversation :] My nephew’s chatter about the moon lighting up the night made me think of Genesis 1:16

“And God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night: he made the stars also” (KJV).

It is interesting that in nature, as in life, God does not leave us without light. In the dark of night, God gives us light–even if just enough to find our way through the surrounding blackness.

I believe nature gives us a glimpse of God–of his nature and character. Like the words of a writer or the strokes of an artist tell something of their creator, so the restless ocean, the bird in flight, the sweeping prairie grass each tell something of their creator–of the Divine Artist who painted and wrote them into existence. God didn’t have to paint light into the darkness; he could have left us to wonder through the blackness until the sun’s return–but he didn’t. He gave us the moon and the stars with just enough light to give hope of the sun’s return.

The same is true in the blackness of our lives. There are dark days, sometimes dark months and years. But even in the darkness, there is light and hope. Sometimes the light is dim, veiled, hidden behind the clouds and difficult to find–but it’s there, it’s always there. God, the painter of light, creator of sun and moon, gives us his light–his hope and peace in the darkness.

If you are prodding in the darkness, feeling lost and unsure, know the light is there–behind the clouds, behind the heartache or uncertainty–the light is there, it’s always there.

“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.” C.S. Lewis

Beautiful Sadness

Posted on by

So often, I find within myself a deep sense of sadness. I have no reason for sadness, but it’s there none the less. I can step back and look at the facts of my life–the fact that I have a happy marriage, a good job, a cozy home, loving friends and family, the hope of God–so much to be thankful for and to look forward to. And yet, even among the facts of my happy life, I find sadness. Unreasonable, inexplicable sadness. I have always felt this sadness something I need to change, to overcome; I have viewed it as a weakness and a flaw…until recently. I have lately started to wonder if this sadness actually has anything good to offer–if it is perhaps a good and important part of my nature rather than a part that need be weeded out.
In The Problem of Pain, C.S. Lewis says, “God allows us to experience the low points of life in order to teach us lessons that we could learn in no other way.” I’ve been thinking a lot about these words and have started to wonder what lessons I can learn from sadness that I might not learn any other way. I see the following:

  • So much of what I write grows out of sadness, out of the dark times that give me reason to pause, to reflect, and to think harder and deeper. Perhaps if I had a lighter nature and didn’t struggle with sadness so much, I would never be able to think, feel, and write as I do. I feel deeply, which sometimes leads me down a dark road. But if I didn’t feel so deeply, perhaps I would never stop to think deeply, and in turn never write or create beauty out of that darkness. I’m reading Mood Tides by Dr. Ron Horton, a teacher I became acquainted with at the university I attended. Dr. Horton says, “Scripture does not require us to suppress these emotional states but asks us rather to make good use of them. I suspect that apart from emotional lows some would never entertain serious thoughts. Certainly apart from emotional highs it is difficult for the spirit to rise in praise. ‘Is any among you afflicted? Let him pray. Is any merry? Let him sing,’ commands James (James 5:13). Notice that this injunction does not propose correctives to these emotional states. James is not saying jerk yourself out of these moods. He is telling us what to be doing while we are in them.”
  • Sadness helps me look inward and see myself and all that lies within me, good or bad, in a sharper light. How would I ever grow or change if I never stopped to take a sober look at myself? I don’t always like what I see within, but looking away and ignoring the problems doesn’t help me change.
  • Sadness gives me a contrast to happiness that helps me develop a deeper appreciation for all the good in my life. When everything in life is perfect and I’m perfectly happy, I tend to take for granted all I’ve been given. But after a time of sadness and reflection, all the good in my life seems that much brighter and I am that much more thankful for the beauty I’m surrounded by.
  • Sadness helps me better relate to and value the suffering of others. I can say, “I know how you feel,” but I won’t really know unless I’ve been there myself. Sadness and depression are common infirmities and taking my part in them helps me know how to help others in their own darkest hour.

Even with the good I’m starting to see in sadness, I realize too it must not go unbridled. I cannot use sadness as an excuse. I cannot mistreat people around me because I’m upset or down. I can’t live a life of doom and gloom marked only by complaining. If sadness is to be used for good in my life, then I must learn from it and be always moving forward, not wallowing in self-pity. C.S. Lewis says, “Crying is all right in its own way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.” Sadness is only good so far as it helps me reflect and change; anything beyond that is very likely self-indulgence.

Again in Mood Tides, Dr. Horton says of the emotional ups and downs we face, “But if emotional variation is inevitable, spiritual variation is not. Satan delights to attack us at the extremes of our emotional cycles as well as at seasons of life that push us up or down. He need not succeed. We can resist him better if we understand that it is not the extremes themselves but what we do with them that brings about spiritual victory or defeat. We can condemn their indulgent states, pride, and despair, without condemning the fluctuations themselves. For elation and depression are normal moods intended for good. They are moods, it is true, which some must endure as acute and chronic infirmities. Yet they may be endured like other infirmities with the assurance that God can turn suffering to positive gain. There is divine purpose in the rhythms of life.”

I love the poem Desert Places by Robert Frost. Frost’s words about the empty, desert places we find inside ourselves remind me that I’m not alone in this experience:

“Snow falling and night falling fast, oh, fast

In a field I looked into going past,

And the ground almost covered smooth in snow,

But a few weeds and stubble showing last.

The woods around it have it–it is theirs.

All animals are smothered in their lairs.

I am too absent-spirited to count;

The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is, that loneliness

Will be more lonely ere it will be less–

A blanker whiteness of benighted snow

With no expression, nothing to express.

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces

Between stars–on stars where no human race is.

I have it in me so much nearer home

To scare myself with my own desert places.”

Desert Places by Robert Frost

Words are Knowledge

Posted on by

I am just old enough to remember life before the internet and cell phones. I grew up playing outside, not on the computer. I wasn’t on Facebook or the owner of a cell phone until I was in college. I rarely text and am probably slower than my grandma (who is super tech savvy, by the way) when I do.

Still, technology and the hyper-connectivity of the world around me have changed the way I interact and relate to people. Like so many my age, I am more comfortable communicating by means of blogging and Facebooking than I am in face-to-face interactions. Not that I can’t have an intelligent face-to-face conversation, but I am better able to open up and speak my heart through writing than I am in talking.

Words are my world, they are my voice and the best way I know how to share my heart and person with others.

Because I am sharing my heart and who I am when I write, it means a lot to me when people read my writing; their reading communicates interest in who I am and what I have to say. On the flip side, when people show no interest in my writing, to some extent that makes me feel they aren’t interested in knowing me. Not that I expect everyone to read my blog–not everyone has the time or interest and blogging isn’t the best way to build relationships with each and every person in my life. But when someone says they want to know me better and expresses no interest in what I have to say, I think, “you say you want to know me, I have put myself out there in my writing to be known, and yet you act like what I’ve written means nothing to you–do you really want to know me better or are you just saying that?”

In the same way, I say I want to know God better; I say I want to have a better relationship with him and better know his heart–and then fail to read his words to me. This struck me quite hard the other day: I want people to know me better through my writing and feel they aren’t interested in me when they don’t read what I’ve written. God wants me to know him better and has spoken his heart to me through the written word–the Bible–and yet I fail to read his words (therefore communicating a total lack of interest in knowing him better).

I love the written word, I love the way words can be combined and moved around to say what you want just the way you want. Why, if I love words so much and put so much value into my own words being read, do I not value the words of God? I say I want to know him but my actions say otherwise. God has chosen to share himself with me in the way I love most–through words. The words of God are beautiful and powerful and have changed who I am completely. You may not believe in the Bible–in the words of God. I do. I believe in God’s words with all my heart and live my life based on this belief. I am moved to value God’s words more and make reading his words a priority in my life. If I really want to know God, then I must read what he has shared with me about himself through the written word.

How about you–how do you feel when people do or don’t read your words or listen to what you say?

I Won’t Forgive

Posted on by

I don’t think I normally have a lot of trouble forgiving people and moving on with life. I know people make mistakes and I make mistakes and you just have to deal with it and let go. Lately though, something that happened years ago has kept coming to the forefront of my mind. Every time I think about it, I think I will never forgive that person, I will never love them, I will never let go. I know bitterness destroys people. I know refusing to forgive hurts me more than it will ever hurt the other person because it will eat away at me without them ever knowing. Still I felt what this person did was unforgivable and I also felt very strongly that forgiving meant letting what they did be okay. It meant letting them off the hook and acting like nothing ever happened. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t pretend everything was okay and just go on with life like nothing ever happened.

Then earlier this week I read a blog post by Don Miller that got me thinking. Miller talked about playing the victim and using unforgiveness to control and hurt people. Miller’s words made me realize I was telling myself that if I just keep this anger hot and fresh inside of me then that person will never be able to get close enough to hurt me again. If I keep this wound open then I will always remember why this person is unforgivable and so deserving of my anger. Miller’s post bothered me but it didn’t bother me enough to make me change anything; it just got me thinking in the right direction.

Then today I was reading Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis and the chapter I opened up to was called “Forgiveness.” Great. The chapter after that was called “The Great Sin” (referring to pride). Fantastic. And finally the next chapter was called “Charity” (referring to love of course). Super. There I was snuggled up on the couch with a big mug of hot tea ready for an afternoon of encouraging words from one of my favorite authors–that is not what I got. What I got was a heart and soul on fire with conviction. What a got were hard answers to the hard questions I have been asking God (How can I forgive this person? Followed by I will not forgive this person. How can I love this person? Followed by I will not love this person). I have noticed lately when I ask God a question that I think doesn’t have an answer, he answers me anyway whether I like or not.

In the chapter about forgiveness, Lewis says the following: “‘Forgive us our sins as we forgive those that sin against us.’ There is no slightest suggestion that we are offered forgiveness on any other terms. It is made perfectly clear that if we do not forgive we shall not be forgiven (Mere Christianity, p.116). These words shook me up a little bit. It bothered me to think that if I can’t get past this anger inside of me then God is by no means obligated to forgive my sins either.

Lewis goes on to say: “We might try to understand exactly what loving your neighbour as yourself means. I have to love him as I love myself. Well, how exactly do I love myself? Now that I come to think of it, I have not exactly got a feeling of fondness or affection for myself, and I do not even always enjoy my own society. So apparently ‘Love your neighbour’ does not mean ‘feel fond of him’ or ‘find him attractive’. …So loving my enemies does not apparently mean thinking them nice either. That is an enormous relief. For a good many people imagine that forgiving your enemies means making out that they are really not such bad fellows after all, when it is quite plain that they are. Go a step further. In my most clear-sighted moments not only do I not think myself a nice man, but I know that I am a very nasty one. I can look at some of the things I have done with horror and loathing. So apparently I am allowed to loathe and hate some of the things my enemies do. … For a long time I used to think this was a silly, straw-splitting distinction: how could you hate what a man did and not hate the man? But years later it occurred to me that there was one man to whom I had been doing this all my life–namely myself. However much I might dislike my own cowardice or conceit or greed, I went on loving myself. … In fact the very reason why I hated the things was that I loved the man. Just because I loved myself, I was sorry to find that I was the sort of man who did those things. Consequently, Christianity does not want us to reduce by one atom the hatred we feel for cruelty and treachery. We ought to hate them. Not one word of what we have said need be unsaid. But it does want us to hate them in the same way in which we hate things in ourselves: being sorry that the man should have done such things, and hoping, if it possible, that somehow, sometime, somewhere he can be cured and made human again. …Now a step further. Does loving your enemy mean not punishing him? No, for loving myself does not mean that I ought not to subject myself to punishment–even to death. If you had committed a murder, the right Christian thing to do would be to give yourself up to the police and be hanged. We may kill if necessary, but we must not hate and enjoy hating. We may punish if necessary, but we must not enjoy it. In other words, something inside us, the feeling of resentment, the feeling that wants to get one’s own back, must be simply killed. I do not mean that anyone can decide this moment that he will never feel it any more. That is not how things happen. I mean that every time it bobs its head up, day after day, year after year, all our lives long, we must hit it on the head. It is hard work, but the attempt is not impossible. … That is what is meant in the Bible by loving him: wishing his good, not feeling fond of him nor saying he is nice when he is not” (Mere Christianity, pp. 116-118 & 120, italics mine).

As I said before, my big hang-up with forgiving this particular person was the idea of pretending what they did was okay and acting like I’m just going to forget about it. What they did will never be okay, and unfortunately, I’ll never be able to forget about it either. But Lewis made me realize forgetting and pretending everything is perfectly fine is not what God is asking me to do; that is not forgiveness. When I realized forgiveness is wanting good for the other person, well, that is still hard to do, but it doesn’t feel like a lie–it doesn’t feel impossible. When I was telling God I wouldn’t forgive this person, I kept telling him I wanted to but it just wasn’t possible. I told God he would have to forgive this person for me because I couldn’t do it or he would just have to forgive me for my own unforgiveness–I genuinely felt there was no other answer, no other way to solve the problem. I realize now there is a way but it required I first understand what forgiveness really is and what I must do to offer this forgiveness. I am so relieved to know that this anger, even though it will rear its head again, does not have to hang over and control me forever.

I am so thankful God not only forgives me but patiently teaches me how to offer that same forgiveness to others in the darkest hour.