{RELEASE} The role of forgiveness

I’ve been having some crazy dreams lately. In them, I’m inevitably visited by some face from my past. I try to not read too much into these dreams, but some days, the faces haunt me. Memories of a life long forgotten apparently linger in my subconscious–this reminder that I have marked people and am marked by people I’ve long left behind.

Often I pray in the morning for grace to release the dreams. If nothing else, they’re an opportunity to remember the God who makes all things new. Every glimpse into my past is this chance to celebrate the all-sufficient grace of God who sent His Son into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost (1 Tim 1:15).

This word–release–has made its way into my daily prayers. I’m still pondering my friend’s question: what do I need to release that’s keeping me depressed? Lately I’m considering it in terms of forgiveness. Yes, there’s this release that comes when I embrace God’s forgiveness. This way I can let go of haunting memories because I know they’ve been paid for. But I’m realizing they linger for different reasons, too. Because of my guilt, yes–surely Satan gets great joy from rubbing my nose in it, hoping I’ll forget I’ve been set free. For this I need to be reminded of the gospel day after day. It’s ironic how much I can remember, and yet this liberating truth I so easily forget.

But there’s also the release that comes when I forgive others. How much of the tension I carry around in my shoulders is the result of my own unforgiveness, of the grudges I harbor, perhaps without even realizing it? How have I been shaped by my past because I’ve refused to let go of the ways I’ve been betrayed, hurt, or overlooked?

Jesus’s parable of the unforgiving servant wrecks me every time I read it (Matt 18:21-35). He describes a servant who is forgiven an enormous debt, who turns around and refused to forgive a much smaller debt owed to him. I’m so aware of the great debt I’ve been forgiven, yet I’m so quick to withhold that forgiveness from those who sin against me.

I don’t know that it’s necessary to sift through my past, to revisit all the faces, to actively forgive just in case I haven’t. But when those faces visit my dreams, or just my memories, is it an opportunity to forgive once again? To breathe in God’s forgiveness of me, and breathe out His grace toward others?

When I start to see all the ways I’ve withheld forgiveness in my past, I also see the ways I hold grudges every day. In pre-marital counseling, our friends gave us this analogy of a bookshelf. Harboring unforgiveness is like writing it in a book and sticking it on the shelf. We keep taking it down every time we’re offended. The books on the shelf grow more prolific–and my poor husband never knows exactly what I’m mad about. It becomes impossible to believe the best about him, because I have this bookshelf filled with books. Even my children have their own bookshelves. And when unforgiveness becomes a way of life, it’s more than sin that fills the books. Weaknesses, mistakes, things that aren’t personal–we lose the right to be human in our home because someone is always watching, noting every error, ready to revisit it at a moment’s notice.

But God has compassion on our humanity. If he remembers that I am but dust, why do I expect my family to be flawless? How can I hold others to a standard I fall so short of myself? How can I withhold grace when I’ve received so much of it?

Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.

1 Corinthians 13 crushes me under its weight as this steady rebuke of the ways I’ve failed to love. I’m impatient and unkind. I’m envious and boastful. I’m arrogant and rude. I’m selfish, irritable, resentful. And so many of these attributes are rooted in my unforgiveness. I feel justified because just look at the ways they’ve hurt me!

I’m praying for grace to release the grudges I’ve harbored in my heart. Throughout my past, but also right now in my present. My hope isn’t in mustering up the strength to love like Paul describes, but rather in seeing that Jesus has perfectly loved me. He is patient and kind, humble and gentle, bearing with me in love. He forgives–perfectly–separating my sin as far as the east is from the west (Ps 103:12). It’s only His love that can bear fruit in me, by His Spirit.

So I’m clinging to the grace that’s been extended to me in Christ, and–even though I know I’ll have to do again and again–today: I’m clearing my bookshelves.