Yesterday, Bryan tweeted this:
Hashtag, conviction.
Last Sunday made it the second week that I did not take
communion with the church. As the music
began, and I saw people rise to be with Christ, a sad ache loomed in my
heart. Separated from God. I looked
up at the ceiling. What? The answer followed. Sin
separates you from God. Feel ya,
Holy Spirit. I nodded, understanding,
and let myself ache. I understand I desperately
need to forgive those who have hurt me.
Years ago when I used to write on MySpace, I would
journal about dates, never using their real name. In keeping this journal I considered doing
the same to maintain some privacy. And
so today I listed the names of men who have left my heart hurting—six men I have yet
to forgive. These are the men who, if I
saw them at this moment, my soul would be very anti-1 Corinthians 13:4-7.
So I took my list of unforgiven men, and I gave them all
nicknames. Still unsatisfied, I wrestled
with different ideas to code them. And
it came to me. I took one verb to
describe from where my pain with each man was born.
Using.
Immobilizing.
Flodging.
Vowing.
Breaking.
Ignoring.
To each, I wrote my personalized vehement judgment:
Using: You used me for your ego.
Immobilizing: You made me feel
worthless.
Flodging: You lied about who you
were.
Vowed: You wore a ring.
Breaking: You came to me broken.
Ignoring: You didn’t care about who
I was.
I thought evilly to myself with satisfaction. Yeah, y’all
hurt me, you jerks. I hope you know how you
did me wrong. I hope one day God wracks
your hearts with guilt over the pain you’ve caused me. I deserve an apology. I deserve you to recognize my pain!
Attractive, right? Ugh. God must’ve been listening, of course, probably shaking
His head with a gentle laugh. What was
supposed to be me justifying my hurt quickly hit me in the chest like a
sledgehammer.
Using: You
used me for your ego, but I used you to validate
myself.
Immobilizing: You
made me feel worthless, but I made you
feel like less of a man.
Flodging: You lied
about who you were, but I made excuses
about who we were together.
Vowed: You
wore a ring, but I wore desperation.
Breaking: You
came to me broken, but so was I.
Ignoring: You
didn’t care about who I was, but I didn’t care
about you enough to say no.
Admitting I was wrong is not easy. My pride urges me to refuse
responsibility. It’s much easier to
place the blame on him or him or him, or him.
As much as my brothers—yeah, catch that?
Brothers!—wronged me, I equally
wronged them. I. Wronged. Them.
A sin is a sin is a sin, right? Ouch. Hurts to see myself in that light.
But that’s what God
does. He brings our sin out into the light
so that we may not remain in darkness. To
unforgive is to unlove, which, I hear, is the antithesis of our great God. Forgiveness is no easy feat, but I’m praying
every day for God to use my heart, to
immobilize my sin, to extol lies, for me to stay true to my vow to Him, to give grace for brokenness, and to care enough about others to share my sins.
Let me love and forgive
those who have hurt me. You have
forgiven me, and I am a stained sinner.
Your love has washed over me. Let
me love them like you love me, even when it hurts. Especially if it hurts. Let me focus on the depth in Luke 6:32-36. Let me be merciful, because I have a Father who
has given so much mercy to me. And let me outdo them in love and honor.
