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Everyone expects a few rough spots when relating to
people. If you have kids, my guess is that you’ve had mud tracked in on
the living room carpet, a window broken from a stray baseball and
perhaps a car fender dented when your novice driver made a solo run to
the grocery store.
Or maybe you’ve experienced an upset over something as
minor as a family member’s missing an appointment or forgetting to take
a phone message. These minor ‘bumps’ on the road of life are usually
dismissed with a casual, “Oh, you’re forgiven. Forget it. It’s OK.”
What is harder to dismiss, however, is the ache of a
deep, personal hurt that continues to generate inner turmoil. You’re
convinced the pain has lodged permanently in the lining of your heart.
I can relate to that kind of pain. For years my personal
diagnosis could well have been charted: “Undealt-with pain. Bruised.
Tender. Internal bleeding.”
In such situations our response is never as simple as,
“Forget it. It’s OK.” This isn’t like getting mud on the carpet. We
can’t just phone the rug cleaners in the morning and have them remove
the pain by afternoon.
A Stain in the Heart
Whatever the source, emotional pain invariably lodges in
the heart. Undealt with, it remains like a stubborn stain, coloring
everything we do with its sorrow. It prompts us to close our hearts in
self-protection, building walls between us and God and between us and
those around us.
This kind of penetrating pain rarely goes away on its
own. It burrows underground where it fuels anger and resentment, then
surfaces when something or someone triggers it again.
What help is there for people locked in bitterness and
wounded by unfair treatment? What is the way out of these painful
prisons?
The Bible is clear: Jesus holds the key that will unlock
the doors of our emotional prisons (see Luke 4:18). The key is
forgiveness.
The Son of Man can relate to our frailty. He is present in our pain and wants to rescue us from its trap.
Satan, however, prefers to keep us ensnared in our pain
and bitterness. His strategy is to immobilize us by causing us to
harden our hearts. Then he can frustrate God’s plan for expressing His
love through His children.
The Way of Escape
The good news is that God has given us a way to walk out
of our hurts and wounds (see 1 Cor. 10:13). His way of escape?
Forgiveness.
Someone has said that forgiveness is love’s toughest work
and biggest risk. The act itself is simple, but because hurts occur
within a storm of complex emotions, we rarely feel like forgiving.
For years I protested: “I’ve done everything I can do to
make this marriage work! Howard needs to do something.” Convinced that
I was the innocent party, I closed my heart to Howard and lived longer
than I care to remember with pain and unforgiveness churning inside me.
Let’s face it, forgiveness is not an automatic human
reaction. Giving in to the desire for revenge is a much more natural
response.
But the earthly ministry of Jesus showed us what real forgiveness is all about (see Matt. 5:21-24). It is about relationship.
Unforgiveness will always block our relationship with God, and that affects all our other relationships.
Jesus came to reveal the Father’s heart of love—a love
that impacts others with genuine mercy and heartfelt forgiveness. This
is the message of the kingdom of God.
God’s heart is that we give love without looking for
something in return. But how do you do this if you’re deeply wounded by
a husband’s unfair treatment? How do you forgive well-meaning parents
who caused painful hurts?
Scripture leaves no loopholes in admonishing us to
forgive (see Mark 11:25). But within ourselves, we don’t have what it
takes to leap over the hurdles of our hurts and offer forgiveness. Has
God called us to something we cannot do?
Yes! And the sooner we know the depth of our inability to forgive, the better.
God at Work
This was a revelation I came to gradually in my attempts
to improve my marriage. As my husband, Howard, and I worked to resolve
certain issues, our relationship was growing stronger and more open.
But when he answered me abruptly or lost his temper over what I thought
was “nothing,” anger crept in, and I reached for my old scorecard of
his failures.
At the suggestion of friends, Howard and I began
counseling with a pastor and his wife, Dick and Marilyn Williamson. One
afternoon, Dick posed a hard question about my relationship with
Howard. “Jane, why do you continually go back to his behavior? Why
can’t you let go and forgive him completely?”
I knew immediately what Dick was talking about, but I
didn’t know why unconditional forgiveness was not flowing out of me for
Howard.
Dick pressed in with another approach. “OK, then, let’s talk about your relationship with your father.”
That was easy. “We were very close. Like two peas in a pod. I always respected him as a man of God.”
Dick wanted a fuller picture. “Do you ever recall a time when you hopped up in his lap and he gave you hugs and kisses?”
I scrambled for a memory. Thick silence fell over the table as the true picture of my relationship with Dad dawned on me.
Dick broke the silence with his matter-of-fact statement.
“Jane, you have some very strong feelings toward your dad. Negative
ones.”
The only feelings I was aware of were ones of admiration
and esteem for Dad as a man of God. “No,” I protested, “I really loved
him.”
“Well, if you really want to be released from the
emotional pain and unforgiveness you’re carrying, you’ll need to
identify these feelings. In the next few days, if some old memories
start surfacing, just start talking about them. I’m sure Howard will
listen.”
A few days later, an old memory of my dad came to mind. I
asked Howard if he’d come upstairs because I needed to talk about
something important and I needed him to listen.
I started talking and, as I did, real feelings emerged. My voice wavered as I described a painful childhood memory.
Howard immediately began fidgeting with a book, flipping
it nervously open and shut and doodling with his fingers across the
cover. Finally, I stopped in mid-sentence.
“Howard, I feel like you’re not even interested in what I’m saying.” Angry, he turned red and moved to leave the room.
I stood up with tears rolling down my cheeks and said,
“That’s just how it is with men. They really don’t care about women and
children. They can’t give them the time of day.”
The vow I’d made as a child came echoing back to my remembrance, “No man will ever hurt me like Dad hurt Mother.”
Mercy Triumphs Over Judgment
I had made a judgment against all men, including Howard,
who took the brunt of it. Now I genuinely wanted to make things right,
yet somehow I could not seem to forgive him from my heart.
“I seem stuck at this same place, unable to really forgive Howard,” I sighed one afternoon as I sat at Dick and Marilyn’s table.
Dick slowly and deliberately quoted from a passage in
Luke’s gospel: “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. Do not
judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be
condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven” (Luke 6:36-37).
He paused, then added, “The definition of mercy here is,
don’t judge, don’t condemn, forgive. But before you can give mercy and
forgiveness to another, you must first apply this principle to your own
life.”
For a long time I’d been trying to forgive Howard. But
there was always that unseen boulder in my heart blocking my best
efforts.
In order to forgive unconditionally, I needed to quit
judging myself and to embrace God’s forgiveness for me. But forgiveness
begins with an understanding of mercy.
Often we have a sentimental picture of mercy. But God’s definition is much more pointed toward redemptive action.
Jesus encountered people caught in the grip of sin, yet
He didn’t judge or condemn them. Instead, He mercifully extended
healing and forgiveness.
A moment of great release came after I reported my
outburst about “all men” to Dick and Marilyn. We talked about my need
to forgive my father and Howard and to release all men from the
judgment I had against them.
Dick began leading me through a prayer of forgiveness. As I spoke, a deep, deep pain began surging through me.
Then a depth of forgiveness such as I have never known
swept over me. I was so in touch with our Lord’s incredible love that
nothing in me wanted to withhold forgiveness or mercy.
Forgiving the Debt
It’s hard to describe the impact of what was evolving in
our family. Howard, whom I’d judged as uncaring and hard-hearted, began
to look like a different person to me. When the Spirit does the work,
we see as Jesus sees.
At lunch one day, a friend mentioned that the Lord had
spoken to her through the story of the ungrateful servant. Though the
servant had freely received mercy from his master regarding a debt he
owed, he refused to extend mercy to the person who owed a debt to him
(see Matt. 18:21-35).
Thinking about this story made me realize that although
Howard and I had learned much about forgiveness, there was one more
step to be taken. Not only are we to forgive others for what they have
done, but also we are to forgive them for what we perceive they “owe”
us.
In our relationships, some of our expectations for
respect and responsible behavior are healthy and legitimate. They are
based on our understanding of love in action (see Rom. 13:8).
But what if we come to realize those legitimate desires
will never be fulfilled by imperfect human beings? The only thing left
is to forgive the debt.
I needed to forgive Howard for what I believed he owed
me—past and present—and release him from any future expectations of
perfect behavior I might have of him.
Later that week, I was working upstairs in my office when
Howard came in to ask my forgiveness for something he’d done. I knew I
needed to bring up the issue of canceling the debt.
“Howie, I’ve been holding you responsible for a long time
for a debt I felt you owed me. As of this day, I am totally releasing
you.”
The Lord’s presence descended quietly into the room in a
way we’d never experienced. We held each other and wept as we prayed.
All debt was now canceled.
That day the enemy was stripped of his power to wreak
havoc in our home and our marriage. For two days, Howard sat in his
rocking chair, weeping quietly, utterly drained and too weak to move.
Something powerful had happened in the spiritual realm.
The Lord was touching Howard with His healing power in a new depth of
release.
The Fruit of Forgiveness
Shortly after the canceling of the debt, we began talking
about the painful patterns we had set up in our marriage. We agreed
that our pattern of relating to each other had been negative from the
moment we “brought in the baggage” with our marriage vows.
I came into marriage with voracious needs for love and
acceptance resulting from the pain of my childhood. I came with the
expectation that Howard would not only meet my needs, but also become a
source of life to me.
Howard talked about insecurities he’d struggled with
since childhood, the tremendous pressure and disappointments he’d felt
at work when we were first married and how panic gripped him at having
the responsibility of a family.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. I now understood why Howard had become so distant.
In our vulnerability, the Holy Spirit’s presence tangibly
enveloped us. We were learning to walk in the truth of God’s Word and
in the power of the resurrected Lord Jesus.
No longer would we be reaping from our foolish ways.
Instead God would be producing the fruit of love, mercy and forgiveness
in us—His way.
Jane Hansen Hoyt serves as international president and CEO
of Aglow International, a ministry that is impacting the lives of women
in 135 nations. She is the author of Fashioned for Intimacy. Adapted from The Journey of a Woman by Jane Hansen, copyright 1998. Published by Regal. Used by permission.