For Part 1, “Reframing”, click here.
By Ife J. Ibitayo
Perhaps the greatest virtue in the world is forgiveness. I can dole it out in spades when someone scuffs my shoe or bumps my shoulder. But what about when life gets real? For instance, when I was in elementary school, I told my best friends who my crush was. The following day, my whole class knew. A bully in my class tormented me for months with fake notes and prank calls. This kind of story sticks to your heart like glue.
When we’re hurt, our first reflex is to hold on to that offense. When others do us wrong, they owe us. When life does us wrong, life owes us. When God does us wrong, God owes us. Our unhealed wounds give us an ever-flowing well of gripes and complaints that we draw upon to justify our present unhappiness and discontent. It provides a refuge in a bitter and cold world.
Mold of Unforgiveness
But most of us don’t realize we’re acting this way. Unforgiveness is like mold. It creeps in slowly, silently. Then it poisons every relationship in our life.
I remember one man I worked for. He was responsible for some of the most painful years of my life. One day, as I was crying out to God about the pain he’d caused me, I felt led by God to ask for his forgiveness (see Isaiah 55:9-10). So I followed through. I asked for the man’s forgiveness and internally made the decision to extend forgiveness to him as well. But I spent the rest of my tenure under him stiff and on edge.
Just as I illustrated, our forgiveness will tend to be half-hearted or, at best, incomplete. The sage King Solomon once said that “if your enemy is hungry, feed him. If he is thirsty, give him something to drink. For in so doing you will be heaping fiery coals on his head” (Romans 12:20). But our forgiveness often looks like just stopping short of “heaping fiery coals on their head.”
Opening the Door
Some have said that unforgiveness is like drinking poison and wishing the other person would die. I’d say it’s like lighting their house on fire, then realizing you’re the one trapped in the flames. When we let others go, we set ourselves free. We fling the front door open and let the driving rain of grace and mercy in.
But as I said before, unforgiveness is our natural reflex, and it’s largely invisible to us. Most of us have let roots of bitterness spring up within us (Hebrews 12:15) because of our ungrateful children or our combative spouse or our demanding boss. But God is the Lord of reconciliation, and He has created us to be ambassadors of reconciliation at home, at school, and at our workplaces (2 Corinthians 5:18). He loves to reconcile the estranged.
The first step is prayer. Countless believes have shared stories about how their hatred melted into compassion when they began praying for those who have wounded them. The word says that “the prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective” (James 5:17), and that includes the power to crack hearts of stone, including our own. The last step might be initiating contact: a phone call, a coffee break, or even dinner.
Conclusion
Forgiveness must come first. All other foundations are shifting sand. Just as our relationship with God started with the forgiveness He gave us through the death of His Son, so does our relationship with everyone else. Let bitterness die; let forgiveness bloom; and start building well.
“’Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it.’”
(Matthew 7:24-27)