Is forgiveness forgetting? There isn’t an easy answer to this question. We have all heard the stories of the woman that offers a home to her son’s murderer. We have seen the addict and dealer that make peace with their past and work together to change a neighborhood. Most of the time these stories leave a lot of us in emotional chaos. On the outside we smile and clap (if we are in the audience). We utter things like, “That’s amazing” or “Grace is wonderful.” Inside our guilt wells up, “Why can’t I forgive and forget,” “Why do I feel like it’s such a struggle to move on from my pain?” I don’t know that forgiving is forgetting or that we understand the full story of these “ultra forgiveness” moments.
I have been fortunate to live a pretty charmed life, I have amazing parents, siblings I can put up with and generally like being around, and nieces and nephews that are the coolest kids around. I grew-up middle class on a family farm and there haven’t been many deep cuts in my life. There have been people that have attacked my character and people that have said mean things about me and I don’t understand why – I try to be a peaceable person. They have all been people that if I saw them in trouble I would offer help. There have been three times in my life (at this point) where I have been deeply hurt. Two of those I have since moved on. One though was so tangled, multi-faceted, and effected my life so deeply I still struggle with how to fully respond. I often have to remind myself that I forgive those involved. Yet, I don’t feel comfortable around the people or the organization at the center of the hurt. The relational damage was profound.
Let’s look back at the ultra forgiveness stories… Like most of us I love and struggle with these stories. I believe in the power of forgiveness, both for the forgiver and the forgiven. There are a couple of key factors in these forgiveness narratives that we miss because we don’t experience it in real time. We see the moment after the moment has happened. We join the tale after the hard work has been done.
The first factor – Time. I’m sure there are some true miracle moments out there, but in the stories I have heard and read, years have passed from offense committed to the “hug point.” We hear the story in a one hour special and lose track of the decades that pass between action and forgiveness. The old saying is that time heals all wounds. There is some truth to that but remember a healed wound still shows a scar.
Factor number two — the victim doesn’t do it alone. The mother has people around her helping her walk through the pain. The dealer and addict have recovery communities that walk with them as their lives change forever. Forgiveness at its best happens with a community.
Some honorable mentions that don’t always show up but are there a lot…
There is a sense of guilt and repentance from the one that committed the crime. The victim and offender both recognize the role they played. The victim and offender both realize that they are no longer the same people they were and they want to move on. Both parties have had an encounter with God (I think this one has the greatest impact but is in honorable mention because many would discount its importance).
Back to my struggle with forgive vs forget. At the time I had spent, almost, a third of my life as an employee of an organization. Since it was a student ministry I first became affiliated when I was in middle school, this meant that over half of my life had been spent connected to this Not-for-Profit. I was in my 7th year of employment when the wheels started to come off. If you had asked me at year five I would have told you I would retire with them and continue to consult and teach for them until I went on to resurrection. Year seven though things began to change. No one likes change — a friend of mine once said, “People don’t like fun change let alone difficult change.” There was a lot more tension and I didn’t help matters because I didn’t fully understand myself. I was battling through depression and didn’t know – I just felt bad not realizing it had a name. At the same time I was discovering that I was an introvert by nature and I was surrounded by extroverts that couldn’t understand that and I wasn’t sure they cared. The message I was hearing (I don’t believe it was intended this way) was, “You don’t function or think the way we do and if you don’t shape up and start doing things our way there are going to be problems. There is obviously something wrong with you and you need to fix it.” I felt demeaned and disrespected as a person not as an employee. Over the course of the next three years a lot of battles ensued I had been worn down enough that I started standing my ground and wouldn’t back down and that exacerbated the problems. The final blow came when I resigned, it was genuinely one of the worst days of my life. These people I had spent a lifetime with suddenly seemed like enemies. They were confused when I said, “We aren’t having a staff party. If we’re done, we’re done.” Later that same day I emailed the national office, “I’ve lost my job, what am I supposed to do now.” The response I got was, “Be careful what you say to donors so you don’t hurt giving.” I had lost half my life and the response was don’t hurt everyone else’s income. A couple of weeks later I got a phone call from a former co-worker, he decided then was the time to let me know he would have fired me sooner. He didn’t know what had taken my bosses so long. My life and my value fell apart. Who was I? Did I even serve a purpose in this world? Was I really that difficult to work with? Had I really been that awful of a person?
There were a lot of well meaning people in my life early on that told me to forgive and forget, “Move on with your life, things will work out.” The problem was I couldn’t see that things were going to work out. I couldn’t move on because I didn’t know where to move on to. I had nothing except a faith I had to cling even tighter to. I wasn’t ready to move on because I was still shell-shocked by what had happened. Where had things gone so terribly wrong?
People were telling me that I should be praying blessings over them. I wanted to pray like King David, “God crush my enemies” “God vindicate me.” The wound was raw and deep.
For a long time my prayers were, “God this hurts,” “God help me,” “God help me find peace.” Forgiveness was something I was going to have to move to. I wasn’t against forgiving I just couldn’t get there. God knows I wanted to forgive. I knew forgiveness was the right thing to do. It required something I didn’t yet have — some healing. Eventually I would pray for forgiveness. I would pray that God would forgive me in the midst of my struggle and that I would be forgiving toward the people that hurt me and the organization. For a long time when I would drive through the town where the office was I would default into prayers of forgiveness. Over time I stopped feeling the tension I did in the beginning. I can cross the city limits and not think of those by gone days.
At the same time I can never fully forget the pain that entered my life. I’m still in recovery, years later. The relationships I had with people are shattered. I don’t expect they will be whole this side of resurrection, but I also don’t think that limits the forgiveness. I don’t believe that means I have been unforgiving towards them.
I think of it this way… If I had a recovering alcoholic come to my church, 5 years sober, it wouldn’t be a particularly loving act to put him on the ministry team that goes to bars to reach the lost. Yes, he offers a unique perspective, but the better place for him to serve is with the recovery group, where I’m not throwing him into a place he once struggled. He has been forgiven, but his mind and body haven’t forgotten.
I think this is the truth of the log and the sawdust. Am I humble enough to admit I’m still struggling and growing? If I can see the log in my own eye then I can work on removing it and maybe walk with you while you struggle with your sawdust.
I forgive them all the time, but I haven’t forgotten yet and I think that’s okay. Forgiveness is a healing process. I have moved past wanting to pray like David. In most cases unless something exterior brings it up I don’t think about any of it. I’m on a journey and I am learning. Mostly I am learning that forgiving is a process.