Forgiving

These eyes weren't made for crying; This love wasn't made to waste 

These arms weren't made for battle, but to share in your embrace 

You shall be, you shall be, you shall be Forgiven 
You shall be, you shall be, you shall be Forgiven

Ben Harper

Forgiveness opens the door to restoration and beauty. It is a costly act; a costly decision. 

I'm struck by one facet of bearing this cost: forgiveness is a process.

Often we real and despair in the midst of forgiveness. Hurt surfaces stubbornly from sin we felt we had "forgiven." It is as though we push an apple beneath the surface of the water, but it bobs into sight the moment we cease exerting our pressure upon it. 

We say we've forgiven, but there's that damned apple floating for all the world to see. It surfaces in anger, fear, depression, gossip, anxiety and begs the question of ourselves and others, "So ... you've forgiven that offense?"

We find ourselves forced into a delusional denial of the apple's existence ("What apple?") or a dejected admission of our own insecurity. 

What if we saw forgiveness as what is really is, a brave, daily process to engage in? The presence of hurt doesn't mean forgiveness isn't working any more than the presence of hunger means that eating isn't working.

The fact is event-focused forgiveness never synchs with reality. Should we be allowed to acknowledge the presence of the bobbing apple by acknowledging that we are in the process of forgiving, it would be a truthful, dignified and freeing admission to make. It would also permit genuine forgiveness to run it's course. 

We have a decision: daily rebuild a facade of past-tense forgiveness in the face of it's obvious failure, or devote ourselves daily to the ongoing process of establishing real, lasting forgiveness. Here a foundation of acknowledged sin, there a deep sorrow over loss and hurt; now a sudden reminder of our heart's continued hesitancy, then an equally startling awareness of its increased freedom; finally a loving sense of wholeness and desire for restoration.

Yes Jesus commands us to forgive. This is no optional exercise. So seriously did he take it that he said: 

"But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins."

Wouldn't we do well to give up the sham of accomplishing this act, and to engage in the mortal daily battle of seeing it become a reality?

Jesus taught that we must "take up our cross daily" in order to follow and obey him. What better example of this than the daily dying to self that the process of forgiveness involves?