Divine Plagiarism

In some ways, forgiveness is like giving your life to Christ. You mean it when you first do it, but it is only through God’s work in your life that you end up understanding what that means. We are redeemed when we give our life to Him. We are sanctified throughout the course of our lives, as He cashes in the promise we made piece by piece. We give Him the deed to the house all at once, but He remodels the house into His dwelling over time. I meant it when I gave my life to Christ. He still shows me what that meant and leads me in going about it. Forgiveness is the same way. I meant it when I forgave her, even while reading the words she used to wound me. I am still learning what that means.

Last night, I said a prayer at peace for her. I think that was the first prayer I have said for her in a long time that has truly been at peace. Before, I prayed stubbornly, I blessed her defiantly. I knew there were parts of my heart that did not truly want to see her blessed. Parts of my heart were still wounded, parts still cried out for vengeance. I felt places where unforgiveness held on with pit bull teeth. I prayed despite these parts of my heart, I blessed her in defiance of them. I asked God to teach me to pray the prayers that I would pray if I really loved her the way He does. He taught me those prayers, and I prayed them as an act of the will. I blessed her over the roar of the currents of my heart, blessed her at the top of my lungs. Yet, last night, the currents were stilled. I prayed for her softly, quietly. I prayed simply. Not even about forgiveness. I didn’t need to choose to forgive. She was already forgiven. It was done. So I just prayed for her. I whispered a blessing for her, and it slipped across the glassy surface of the water. There were no swells to swallow it up, no waves to drown it out. It was just there. ‘May God’s love be with you.’

Forgiveness follows a path, I think. A path of healing. When we say, ‘I forgive you,’ we set out on that path. We forgive despite the storms of our heart, and we choose to keep forgiving until those storms begin to die down. The will remind us of how the other has insulted us in every possible way. We have to choose to forgive them for each of those ways, choose to bless them regardless. In time, the winds and rains peter out, and there is little more than a breeze left as the wound heals. That breeze blows away whatever of the pain as the forgiveness is worked to its completion. In the aftermath of the storm, the still waters run deep. In the totality of forgiveness, nothing remains below the surface to explode at the turning of the tides. We are restored to simplicity and wholeness.

There is a vast difference between forgiveness and excusal. To be forgiven, you must be tried and convicted, then be pardoned. The pardon is irrevocable. In excusing someone, you are only agreeing not to try them, usually in exchange for them agreeing not to try you. If they break their bargain, you can always bring them before the court. There is no statute of limitations. It is better to be pardoned. If we are to forgive someone, we must allow them to be tried and convicted, and then we must pardon them.

In this courtroom, we are not the judge. Surely, if we were, it would always be a kangaroo court, finding in our favor. We must yield to the true Judge, and bring our complaint before Him. (We must then be ready to hear Him convict any guilt on our parts, let that guilt be tried, and seek pardons ourselves.) So the trial begins with the summons. In the same way, the path of healing begins with the legitimization of wound’s pain. ‘You hurt me’ is the critical phrase here. If the other will not hear it, then bring it to God. One may be tried in absentia. Of course, a pardon given in absentia cannot be received until the one tried shows up to the court. Then the conviction. The one on trial may plead guilty, hopefully after consulting with the Judge. They may not, in which case you must turn to the Judge for his decision. If the tried is found guilty, you must wait for the Him to inform the tried of their guilt. You are not the one to do it. Along the path of healing, hopefully the other will apologize when you approach them. If not, then you must simply raise the case on your prayers. You are not trying the other person. Let the Judge deal with them. Once He pronounces the verdict, then comes the pardon. Pardons are irrevocable. There is no double jeopardy. But we are forever tied to the trial until we pronounce the pardon. We must remember how much we have been forgiven, and draw from that account in our forgiveness. We forgive. We may have to forgive in absentia, if the other is not willing to show up for court. But we must forgive nonetheless. The pardon will be waiting for them when they are willing to come pick it up. We are released from the trial. Perhaps there is one more phase of the trial. The prayers for reconciliation. And this is where I am now.

In the course of the last week, I think I finally recognized my pain. Instead of asking the world to legitimate my pain, I finally asked God. No longer trying to disprove ’you hurt you,’ or ‘nobody hurt you,‘ I finally let the truth of ’you hurt me’ sink in to the core of the wound. I had been afraid to ask God to adjudicate… I had blamed Him for some of the pain. I finally renounced that. In His verdict, ’I don’t like how she treated you,’ the trial was over. Not that I was right. Not that she was a bad person. Just that she hurt me. The pain was legitimate, the wound legitimate, and the pardon legitimate. And irrevocable. I forgive her, totally and finally. Perhaps, one day, she will come by to pick up the pardon. Perhaps, one day, we will be reconciled. And perhaps she has a trial for me out there. I await the summons. I plan on pleading guilty.