Forgiveness seems easy enough on paper or in theory. However, I've begun to realize how I sometimes only allow forgiveness to take place on a surface level in my life, rather than deep down in the core of my being. A good comparison would be the difference between wiping a spill off the counter versus soaking and rinsing a stained shirt until it's washed and clean throughout. One only touches the visible exterior, and the other flows through all the layers, leaving nothing untouched in the cleansing process.
In my growing up years, the burden of mistakes I made and the ways I fell short of expectations--mine, others', God's--weighed on me heavily. I felt stuck in a filthy muck of "not good enough" that kept showing up on me even when I tried to ignore it or cover it up. Some of these feelings were insecurities that needed their own form of healing. Others, though, were attached to real times when I had truly messed things up by what I had done or failed to do. Guilt and shame were feelings that easily overwhelmed me, so learning that a personal relationship with God meant that I could have something called forgiveness--a second chance, a clean start, a new life...that was Good News indeed. As eager as I was to have forgiveness in my life, I have wrestled with truly accepting it, embracing it, and giving it to others ever since. One obstacle has been that my friends and I were taught to "say sorry" as kids when we injured or offended, and the immediate polite response of "that's okay," emerged later in our social patterns. Not wanting anyone to feel bad, "I'm sorry," and "That's okay," eventually flew out of my mouth as the situation called for it before my honest thoughts and feelings could catch up. After the moment had passed, I would be surprised by a wave of anger, confusion, hurt, or sadness that came unbidden. What was this? I had already said the "right" words, but I didn't always take time to process my feelings and truly seek, offer, or accept forgiveness. Without taking those steps, I was limiting the transformative power of forgiveness to heal me, heal others, and truly change my life. I have to make a conscious effort to not gloss over these opportunities for confrontation, reflection, and healing still today. One thing that helps me in this is to remember that the power of forgiveness to heal and save comes from Jesus, not myself. The scriptures we read on Good Friday describe how Jesus died a painful death that was intended to dishonor and discredit him in the eyes of the people. He knew, though, as we now know, that in order to atone for our sins and imperfections so that we could be reconciled with our just, loving, and perfectly holy Creator God, he must sacrifice himself and give up his life for our sake. So he did not protest. He accepted this role, took the weight of our sins upon himself, and died so that we would have a chance at eternal life after our death and a restored relationship with God that is a glimpse of the heavenly kingdom here on Earth. "Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all... ...After he has suffered, he will see the light of life and be satisfied; by his knowledge my righteous servant will justify many, and he will bear their iniquities. Therefore I will give him a portion among the great, and he will divide the spoils with the strong, because he poured out his life unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors. For he bore the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors." (Isaiah 53:4-6, 11-12) Far from dishonoring and discrediting him, through his death, Jesus was glorified. Through his death, we are made whole. This is the other element of forgiveness that I struggle to grasp. "Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God." (2 Corinthians 5:17-20) This reality of becoming a new creation is something I struggle to fully comprehend and embrace. In a society that encourages grudge-bearing and vengeance and gleefully exposes the past misdeeds of people's private lives, it is challenging for me to break away from how the world operates and claim true forgiveness for myself. I am going to focus more this year on believing and becoming the new creation God promises to me in this passage. It is possible because God has made a covenant with us to "forgive [our] wickedness and remember [our] sins no more" (Jeremiah 31:33-34). Our local Good Friday service was last night. We commemorated Jesus' death at the end of a Lenten journey where the weight and sting of my sinfulness and mortality has grown heavy and sharp. Sunday morning has not yet come, and the darkness of our hopelessly human state hangs in front of my eyes, obscuring the way forward. I want to embrace the faith-filled prayer of the psalmist: "Have mercy on me, O God, according to your unfailing love; according to your great compassion blot out my transgressions. Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight; so you are right in your verdict and justified when you judge. Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me. Yet you desired faithfulness even in the womb; you taught me wisdom in that secret place. Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. Let me hear joy and gladness; let the bones you have crushed rejoice. Hide your face from my sins and blot out all my iniquity. Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me from your presence or take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." (Psalm 51:1-12) I realize as I lay awake tonight, holding my own private Easter vigil I suppose, just how much of my life I still live in the mindset of Good Friday. For years I have confronted anxiety and depression that has affected my sense of hope and peace, grappled with the perfectionism that I thought could save me, and waded through the general muck and mire of my mistakes and shortcomings. As the psalmist says, my sin and human frailty are ever before me. Perhaps for this reason, Lent has always resonated with me more than the other church seasons. Guilt and failure are things I identify with and can relate to. I am keenly aware of my need for forgiveness, my longing for healing and reconciliation, and my utter inability to supply those things for myself. I need a savior, and thanks be to God he came to me. In the wee hours of this Saturday morning, while my baby sleeps and my family has not yet arrived, before the busyness of a holiday weekend crashes in and disrupts the sacred moment, I ponder and I wait. I try to wrap my mind around the darkness that feels so overwhelming at times and remember that death does not have the final word and Good Friday is not the end of the story. I want to cling to that truth of Easter morning this year and finally release the burdens and baggage I've been carrying. I am sad for the sin in my life and the brokenness of our world. I am humbled by the love shown by Jesus in his death and forgiveness for people like me who did not deserve it. I know when I get up tomorrow I will be challenged to love and forgive as he did...again and again...and the next day...and the day after that... Knowing these demands and my struggles, grace and forgiveness taste that much sweeter. Easter is coming. I feel the anticipation and hope rising in me this year like a kid on Christmas morning. Easter holds the truth of a great gift for me and for all of us: new life, a second chance, hope, healing, a clean start, and the promise of resurrection into God's heavenly kingdom one day. "Alleluia! Christ is risen!" I whisper to myself with a smile. And I wait in hope for the celebration I know is coming in just another day. What are your experiences with giving and receiving forgiveness? Are there times when forgiveness has been a healing experience for you, or a challenging experience? What gives you hope and courage in the face of challenges? I'd love to hear your thoughts! Feel free to share them here, or on the Contact page.
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AuthorRachel is a wife, mom, and follower of Christ. She is active in lay leadership in the United Methodist Church. Archives
October 2017
Categories© Rachel Yochum and Bible Bridge Ministry, 2017. All rights reserved.
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