The One Thing

My original intent was to write an article about forgiveness. I quickly realized that it wasn’t forgiveness, but unforgiveness that mires us to pain. Living in unforgiveness leaves

Jesus out, and ushers in the dark side of human emotion.

As I sifted through the Internet one night, I came across a forgiveness program based on a series of studies. The forgiveness program was created to show people the ways
to forgiveness. Through their research, nine steps to forgiveness were formulated. It wasn’t the nine steps that grabbed me, but rather the “psychological disclaimer at the
bottom of the page.” “The practice of forgiveness has been shown to reduce anger, hurt, depression and stress and leads to greater feelings of hope, peace, compassion and self confidence. Practicing forgiveness leads to healthy relationships as well as physical health. It also influences our attitude which opens the heart to kindness, beauty, and love.” I was intrigued. Really? You think true forgiveness can be achieved through nine steps and some intense seminars. You’ll have to read the rest, I didn’t. Instead, I’ve decided to tell you a story that I have permission to share.

Sarah had a hard life-pregnant and married at fifteen. Divorced, then remarried, two more children, divorced again. She was devastated when her father died, the only man who had shown her unconditional love. Sarah was very close to her two brothers, especially the younger one.So when he married, she wasn’t really happy about sharing
him with anyone, especially with his wife, Kelly.

Kelly’s life was filled with brokenness and poor choices-saved at twenty-seven, married at thirty. Kelly envisioned gatherings with her in-laws like a Christian/Norman Rockwell scene. Right? Wrong! Sarah was bitter and only tolerated Kelly because of her brother’s child, her only niece. Kelly was just as bitter and not any better. Her tangled heart was full of unforgiveness, just like Sarah’s.

Distance and time didn’t improve their relationship. One day, Kelly received a call that she would always remember. It was the day that Sarah’s cancer collided with Kelly’s Christianity, propelling her into action. Kelly picked up the phone and called Sarah. “Sarah, you will never be alone. I’m going to help you.”

They were an unlikely pair in the treatment center. They laughed and they healed together. On a surgery day, Sarah handed Kelly an envelope, “Open During Surgery”. Kelly waited and read a letter filled with a love that caused Kelly’s life to change, because there was no room for unforgiveness in a terminal diagnosis. At Sarah’s funeral, her small group leader read from her prayer journal. “Forgive each other. Love each other. It all comes down to that doesn’t it?”

What the forgiveness program left out was the why. Why forgive? What compels us to forgive? Or rather, who compels us to forgive? You may be thinking, I did forgive. But I
can’t let go. How many times do I have to do this? Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how manyt imes shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.” Matthew 18:21-22. There may be some of you that keep the forgiveness tally, and have surely hit the seventy-seven mark and still counting.

Now, I know some of you are reading this and thinking, “I can’t do that. You don’t know what I’ve been through.” You’re right, and I don’t know. And you don’t know what I’vebeen through-but God does. He even knew when it all happened. He still asks you to forgive. “Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” Luke 23:24. I ask you to consider this, if you can’t forgive, have you ever really known the eternal blessing of forgiveness? “For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.” Matthew 6:14-15. It took me a while to understand it all too. By the way, Sarah’s real name is Sonja, my precious sister-in-law. And Kelly, that’s me, Kristianne.