To Make a Long Story Short...

**This is a continuation of yesterday's post, which was a continuation of the previous day's post, which a continuation...you get the point. This story started here, if you want to take a look back.**

Over the course of the next several days, every one of the men sitting in that half circle around me asked for forgiveness for the wrong that they had done. God's math is interesting sometimes (read: all the time), as I had demanded, in my anger and hatred, the humble act of three men. I held on to this grudge in my heart, wanting three guilty men to beg for forgiveness from me. Instead, God sent 8 men, all carrying around a burden too great for them to bare, in the roughest of situations, who sought forgiveness from some who simply represented their sin. They didn't hurt me. They were not my offenders. But God showed me what it looked like to release someone from their pain.

The simple act of forgiveness.

But the strangest part of it was that it was more cathartic for me than I imagine it was for them. Each time I spoke the words, a chunk of black rot fell away from my heart, revealing the vibrant red lifeblood flowing beneath it. Each time I said, "You are forgiven," my burden got lighter as well. It's as if the weight of hatred and anger and bitterness had actually caused my back to hunch over, forcing me to face the ground, always looking down. The bitterness was so heavy that it forced me to walk hunched over, never able to lift my shoulders nor my eyes to even see what has in front of me. All I could see was the ground below me, and the hunched over shadow that was cast on it.

But as I gave out forgiveness, some of that burden fell away, and I could stand a little taller. As I spoke it again, my shoulders moved a little more. And as the weight became lighter, it became easier to shake it off, easier to forgive as I realized that it was blessing me just as much, if not more. By the time most of the black, rotten hatred had fallen away, I could lift my head up and actually look around, even look up toward the One who had forgiven me.

All that time, I had thought that forgiving meant letting someone off the hook. But it turns out that they're not on my hook to begin with. Forgiving doesn't release them, it releases me to stand tall again. It releases my heart to love again, to laugh again, to even trust again. It releases me to truly share in the sufferings of Christ, enduring that which was not deserved, but saying, "Forgive them Father. They know not what they do." All that time, I didn't know that forgiving them would release me back to freedom, and had nothing to do with them, other than blessing them.

Remember the violet? That precious flower released the sweetest perfume only after being crushed, after feeling the full weight of hatred. The sweetest part of the bloom was given up as a blessing for the one that crushed it. And that blessing is carried on to others. Because Christ forgave me, passing the blessing on to me allowed me to pass it on to others. And as that sweetness was released onto others, my heart experienced great freedom and unshakable joy.

What about you? Are you walking in the freedom that was intended for you? Or are you holding on to a grudge that is not yours to carry? Is it time to forgive? Blessings to you all.

What Do You See Now?

This rough man sat, nay, slouched in his chair across from me, his right arm dangling across his thigh, the other arm thrown back casually over the back of the seat. There was silence among the other men, as this tattooed, dark thug began to tell his story.

"I am serving a life sentence for the rape and murder of my girlfriend. A few years back, I spent some time with this prison ministry team and gave my life to Jesus. I have repented of my crimes, I have sought forgiveness from those whom I have hurt. But there is this thing that I can't seek forgiveness for. I killed my girlfriend. It was wrong, but she's gone and cannot forgive me. But then the pastors here tell me that it's done and God has forgiven me. So what I want to know is this: what do you see when you look at me?"

Oh my goodness. Lord. Have. Mercy. Did I mention the tattoos? Did I mention that I was terrified in his presence? Did I mention the big arms and RIP on his neck? What did I see when I looked at him?

Up to this point, I had been sitting on the edge of my seat, back erect, feet planted lightly under me, as if ready to bolt like an anxious cat. At hearing his question, the weight of conviction became so heavy in my heart, pushing me back in the chair with an exhaustive exhalation. What did I see when I looked at him? As my body hit the back of the chair, the voice of the Lord began rushing through my ears:

He was made in My image. He's been redeemed by My blood.

He was made in My image and has been redeemed by My blood.

I took in a long, slow, deep breath, as I prayed inwardly, "You said You would give me the words to speak. You said You would tell me what to say. I need You now, as all words fail me."

I sat deep in the chair for what felt like an eternity before I could move my mouth to even form a word. As the words began to approach my tongue, I slowly leaned forward, toward this brother of mine, till my arms were resting on my legs and my sole focus was on his face alone.

I opened my mouth by the grace of the Spirit alone and said, "You call yourself a Christian. I claim the same. You have surrendered your life to the power of Christ. I have done the same. There is no crime you have committed that is any worse than anything I have ever done. In the eyes of God, I am no better nor worse than you. So what do I see when I look at you? I see the blood of Christ covering over my brother, washing you of your sins, making you white as snow. And what I can tell you, with all confidence, is this: by the promise of the Word of God, the power of the Holy Spirit, and the authority of Jesus Christ, You. Are. Forgiven."

Breathe deep. Pause for another eternal moment.

Have you ever seen a soul released? Have you ever seen a burden lifted? Have you ever seen a heart restored? It looks a lot like a grown man, covered in scary tattooes, with sad eyes full of gory life stories, hanging his head low as a single tear rolls down his life-stained cheek, too ashamed to make eye contact, too humbled to say another word. It looks a lot like a brutal, hardened criminal softening at the simple words of a foreign girl sitting across him.

Ah sweet forgiveness. How quickly and simply you release your beauty to the most undeserving, unsuspecting souls. The very boot that crushes you receives the absolute best that you have to offer. Your essence clings to it, travels with it, becomes part of it, and rubs off on others.

Ah sweet forgiveness. There is no limit to your giving. And it didn't stop there...