Weary, I wrestle with the memories that invade the black. I wait anxiously for the break of dawn...but the seconds are unending. The darkness that smothers, I drowned out with noise, distractions, busyness. Is this why I have a difficult time being still before my God?
Before my heart reaches His I must be still...but being still means walking through the memories - the pain. I make my way to the family room. I sit alone. Tired of feeling - feeling nothing and yet consumed with an ache that penetrates deep into my bones. Reaching for the memories, I slowly crack open the tattered pages of the album. I'm instantly surrounded with memories of laughter, memories of terror, memories forgotten and buried until...always forgotten until...
I touch the pages as if they are sacred. Running my fingers over their faces, outlining each detail as if their flesh was before me. Some have made their way into eternity. Others have willfully closed the door of their hearts but all have chiseled prints upon who I am.
Closing my eyes I think of the one...The one that wounded deeper than any other. They are the one that wakes me from the dark. They stole my innocence; deemed me unworthy. The one who selfishly withheld all repentance until their end. Then a card - a card with " I'm sorry." scripted upon the blank background. Rage ripped through my being. How dare they...how could they be so cowardly to not even face me! To wait until they sit on the hem of deaths door before any admittance of wrong doing. Now - I'm supposed to forgive?
The one - the one I hated and loved. Alone they died...suffering and alone. My heart should have felt pity but it didn't. What does that say of who I am? This question echos still.
Turning my focus back to the album...eyes peering back at me as if they could read my heart. I wince at the remembrance of their presence. How could I forgive one so cruel. One who left me to die. Who violated my trust, used me for their own gratification, murdered who I was supposed to be. How does anyone forgive - especially that?
"Take a deeper look." I hear Him whisper. I don't want to. I don't want to give up the power and hate. I don't want to feel the agony that will quickly usher in if the fortress walls of my heart are cracked.
I close the album and forget - forget until standing in the flesh is another one just like them. I feel so small in their presence. Lies covered with thistles grow taking deep root. Their hooky thorns thrash about shredding each piece of my heart. Has God failed me? I pray. I beg. Silence. Nothing - but silence. Angry I turn from His way and begin to walk my own. I soon discover my own journey leads me down a path of more pain and despair.
With a desperate and pleading heart I beg for mercy. One foot in front of the other He gives me grace and I walk His path once again. I stumble over and over yet Jesus picks me up. One foot in front of the other...I keep walking. I pull out the memories...the dark, ugly truth. I lay down the bitterness, the hatred. I feel empty, exposed. I look deeper into the one. I see them. Not the abuser but the one God had knit together. The one He wanted something better for. The one He died for...the one who became angry and walked their own path - like me. Now I can begin to forgive. Now I can be free.
Forgiveness is not a free pass for wrongdoing. It's not to let someone off the hook. And it's not a one time deal, rather a journey. It begins with a choice and many times over the choice will be made again. It's to allow your heart an escape from the prison that unforgiveness builds. Hating others keeps you from having peace. The one whom you hate and so desperately want to rid yourself of ends up controlling every moment of your life. No one but God should consume like that. For me forgiveness was nothing more than renouncing all the lies buried in my heart and trusting God to be my vindicator. Their greed and selfishness murdered who I was supposed to be, but my God raises the dead and is restoring all they killed.
Until then...
Jessie
Before my heart reaches His I must be still...but being still means walking through the memories - the pain. I make my way to the family room. I sit alone. Tired of feeling - feeling nothing and yet consumed with an ache that penetrates deep into my bones. Reaching for the memories, I slowly crack open the tattered pages of the album. I'm instantly surrounded with memories of laughter, memories of terror, memories forgotten and buried until...always forgotten until...
I touch the pages as if they are sacred. Running my fingers over their faces, outlining each detail as if their flesh was before me. Some have made their way into eternity. Others have willfully closed the door of their hearts but all have chiseled prints upon who I am.
Closing my eyes I think of the one...The one that wounded deeper than any other. They are the one that wakes me from the dark. They stole my innocence; deemed me unworthy. The one who selfishly withheld all repentance until their end. Then a card - a card with " I'm sorry." scripted upon the blank background. Rage ripped through my being. How dare they...how could they be so cowardly to not even face me! To wait until they sit on the hem of deaths door before any admittance of wrong doing. Now - I'm supposed to forgive?
The one - the one I hated and loved. Alone they died...suffering and alone. My heart should have felt pity but it didn't. What does that say of who I am? This question echos still.
Turning my focus back to the album...eyes peering back at me as if they could read my heart. I wince at the remembrance of their presence. How could I forgive one so cruel. One who left me to die. Who violated my trust, used me for their own gratification, murdered who I was supposed to be. How does anyone forgive - especially that?
"Take a deeper look." I hear Him whisper. I don't want to. I don't want to give up the power and hate. I don't want to feel the agony that will quickly usher in if the fortress walls of my heart are cracked.
I close the album and forget - forget until standing in the flesh is another one just like them. I feel so small in their presence. Lies covered with thistles grow taking deep root. Their hooky thorns thrash about shredding each piece of my heart. Has God failed me? I pray. I beg. Silence. Nothing - but silence. Angry I turn from His way and begin to walk my own. I soon discover my own journey leads me down a path of more pain and despair.
With a desperate and pleading heart I beg for mercy. One foot in front of the other He gives me grace and I walk His path once again. I stumble over and over yet Jesus picks me up. One foot in front of the other...I keep walking. I pull out the memories...the dark, ugly truth. I lay down the bitterness, the hatred. I feel empty, exposed. I look deeper into the one. I see them. Not the abuser but the one God had knit together. The one He wanted something better for. The one He died for...the one who became angry and walked their own path - like me. Now I can begin to forgive. Now I can be free.
Forgiveness is not a free pass for wrongdoing. It's not to let someone off the hook. And it's not a one time deal, rather a journey. It begins with a choice and many times over the choice will be made again. It's to allow your heart an escape from the prison that unforgiveness builds. Hating others keeps you from having peace. The one whom you hate and so desperately want to rid yourself of ends up controlling every moment of your life. No one but God should consume like that. For me forgiveness was nothing more than renouncing all the lies buried in my heart and trusting God to be my vindicator. Their greed and selfishness murdered who I was supposed to be, but my God raises the dead and is restoring all they killed.
Until then...
Jessie
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