Tag: grief

Practical Forgiveness

It’s rich when your abuser preaches forgiveness.

And you are completely justified in the feelings of absolute rage that rhetoric provokes.

It’s humbling when your safe friends preach the same message at the same time.

Because even though your personal feelings around the topic are complicated.

You know forgiveness is right.

It’s hard and it’s not fair. It feels like you are giving up your right to justice and recourse and closure.

And it’s still always the right thing to do.

And that is absolutely rage inducing.

And reconciling the two conflicting emotions that are at war in your soul is the single largest internal battle you will ever face.

Because as cliche as it sounds

Forgiveness is not about letting your abuser off the hook.

Forgiveness is about letting your soul acknowledge the pain.

You must acknowledge the pain you face. You must name it for what it is. Forgivness, contrary to our society’s beliefs and expectations is not pretending the offense never happened. Forgiveness is naming the offense for what it was. Becoming intimate with the damage it caused. Being honest about the scars that were left. That still hurt to touch. That are still being protected from too much stimulation because of the sting.

When we get a physical wound, we don’t constantly scrape at it, or poke it. We don’t (or shouldn’t) pick at the scab that is left behind while the new skin is forming. We also don’t ignore the wound when it happens. We clean out the irritants and dirt to avoid infection. We dress the wound with ointment, and we provide an extra layer of protection until healing occurs.

When abuse happens, and we need to forgive our abusers, in common society, we are asked to skip the steps of cleaning, dressing and healing and move on to the final outcome of a healed mark to remind us.

That isn’t logical or possible.

An ignored wound festers. It becomes infected. Try as we would to pretend that nothing is there, the bacteria gets in and makes us sick from the inside out. Sometimes, the infection hurts us more than the original wound would have to begin with.

Just like a child hides from their parent to avoid the pain of cleaning a hurt scrape, we can hide from each other to avoid the pain of repairing a damaged relationship. And just like pretending the damage isn’t there on a physical wound leads to infection and bigger hurt later, pretending that hurt and offense isn’t there in the name of fake forgiveness causes bigger hurt later.

Sepsis is an infection that stems from this type of scenario- and sepsis if left untreated can cause death.

Unforgiveness is the one thing that can cause us to miss out on heaven. Failure to forgive others causes us to not be able to be forgiven.

It is much more difficult to accept the concept of unconditional love when you realize it applies to the person you have the most problems with as equally as it applies to you.

It is much more difficult to practice unconditional love in action (through actions, not feelings) when we are loving those who hurt us intentionally and we know they hurt us intentionally and they are mocking us by quoting the command to forgive back at us.

We are not forgiving for their sake. We are not providing them a free pass. We are clearing ourselves to receive the blessings and not allowing us to be tied to earthly hindrances.

Forgiveness does not mean intentionally putting yourself in the line of fire either. It is perfectly ok to hold no wish of harm towards another person, and also not want them to be in close proximity to you.

Jesus had his circle of 12, but he treated everyone with kindness and respect. Not everyone needs the same level of access to your soul.

#CharlotteStrong, #MooresvilleStrong, and #BecauseofRHE

This piece was originally a Facebook post fueled by the intense emotional events that took place during the first week of May 2019. I’ve adapted it just a bit to more accurately honor those who lost their lives.

Today, I am struggling.

I’ve always been an empathetic person.

Sometimes I feel like I can sense other people’s emotions, and I feel them exactly as if they were my own emotions.

This part of my personality has been a positive in many ways.

I’m more able to truly understand the reasons why people make the choices that they make. I’m able to turn off my preferences and reasoning- and see things from their point of view. I believe that when people feel understood and heard, they begin to trust you to not hurt them the way others may have hurt them- unintentionally- through a lack of understanding.

I can’t turn it off though. At least, not without shutting down completely.

When tragedy strikes in the form of senseless violence- that’s when it’s the worst for me.

The first tragedy to take place this past week was the senseless shooting at UNCC (University of North Carolina, Charlotte Campus) where 2 students, Riley Howell and Ellis “Reed” Parlier lost their lives, and 4 more were injured. The shooters only motivation being the desire for infamy.

Its during times like this that I can’t seem to distinguish my own feelings from what I sense everyone else must be feeling.

My imagination runs wild.

I don’t understand how one human being can make the choice to intentionally, and without provocation, harm another human being.

For years I’ve heard the answer that it’s just a result of sin.

Bad things happen to good people because we have the freedom to choose, and sometimes, our choices affect other people in a negative way.

Death is a result of sin. It’s a curse all of humanity is faced with. The only difference being how we die.

This response is easier to accept when the “bad things” are sickness, or poverty, or conflict. Those things aren’t as final. There is a sense of hope extended to the future, a deeply desired delay of the inevitable.

Then, I heard of the passing of the beloved Rachel Held Evans.

Her book “Inspired” still only half read sitting beside me.

A 37 year old woman. A wife. A mother. An author. A speaker. A Jesus lover. A friend to many. A beacon of hope to the marginalized.

Unexpectedly and suddenly- due to unforeseen complications from the flu- was gone forever.

I don’t know how to accept it when the “bad things” are the murder of innocent people. I also don’t know how to accept it when the “bad things” are the unanswered prayers of so many for someone so loved, and who was doing so much good.

Then later that very same day, as if the other two events weren’t bad enough, I read the news that a Mooresville Police Officer was shot in the line of duty. Only 2 minutes from where I live.

I prayed my standard prayer for the safety of all involved, checked for updates, made sure my family was safe, and went to bed.

I woke up at 3:30 in the morning, checked for updates, and learned that Police Officer Sheldon, the K-9 officer in our community, did not survive his injuries.

It was a routine traffic stop. It made no sense.

I later learned that the suspect had, after fleeing the scene, gone to his apartment and shot himself.

That made even less sense.

Why would he murder a police officer to avoid whatever he was trying to avoid- but then, murder himself too?

Death is so final. Wouldn’t that be worse than anything he was trying to avoid in the first place? Why didn’t he think things through?

So many questions. Absolutely no satisfying answers.

On Sunday, we went to church like normal. I could already feel the heaviness of everything from the past week fighting for control of my mind.

It takes incredible effort for me to not spiral into a never-ending tidal wave of sadness, fear, depression and anxiety.

I only half listened to the sermon. I was too distracted. Even so, I heard our pastor make the comment that we can’t control God.

That God heals those He chooses to heal. That God shows mercy on those He chooses to show mercy. And that the difference is favor.

My defenses immediately went up.

“But God is Just”, my internal monologue objected, “and the Bible says that he doesn’t have favorites. So, how do you reconcile the concept of a just, merciful, loving God, with the concept of a God who is choosing NOT to intervene?

How does the idea that God has no favorites jive with the idea that God chooses to save some, and not others? That God chooses to heal some, and not others?”

I know the go to religious responses.

I’ve dedicated the majority of my life to learning the perfect response for every situation so I would be seen as a person of great faith.

“His ways are higher than our ways.”

“God can make good come out of any situation.”

“Maybe there was a reason that isn’t evident yet.”

In all honesty though, those standard responses aren’t very helpful.

They aren’t helpful to those who are left to pick up the pieces of a tragic loss.

They aren’t helpful to those who are already struggling with their faith.

They aren’t helpful to those who are already engaged in a wrestling match with God.

Sometimes, not having an answer is better than trying to make sense of a senseless situation.

Sometimes, bad stuff just happens, and there is no good reason for it.

That realization is more comforting than trying to figure out why God deemed it necessary for someone you love to die. More comforting than trying to understand what potential good offsets such a terrible evil.

Not having an answer isn’t a sign of a lack of faith.

Sometimes, wrestling with God is okay.

It’s okay to grieve, to feel pain, to hurt, to be angry- not being in a constant state of joy doesn’t make you less of a Christian, or less of a person of faith.

Not being joyful doesn’t make you less than.

Jesus himself was described as a man acquainted with grief.

Allow yourself to feel. Don’t fake it. Be honest with yourself and others about your emotions.

Doing so gives others the permission they need to do the same.

So, today, I am struggling.

I don’t know why the first week of May was the last week of the lives of these heroes, I just know that it was.

For now, that has to be enough.