As We Forgive Those

How to Forgive Others, Ourselves and God

AS WE FORGIVE THOSE

How to Forgive Others, Ourselves and God

By Charles F. Finck III

ISBN: 978-0-9888078-0-8

Published by Liberty Cross Ministries

P.O. Box 809

Liberty Lake, WA 99019

Copyright ©2013 Charles F. Finck III

All rights reserved. You may freely copy and use the forgiving prayer in English, Spanish, and German. No other part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Unless otherwise noted, all scripture was taken from THE HOLY BIBLE. NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. NIV. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved. Scripture marked NAB is taken from the NEW AMERICAN BIBLE®, Copyright © 1971 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission.

This book can be ordered from

Liberty Cross Ministries

PO Box 809

Liberty Lake, WA 99019

www.libertycross.org

Cover design by Yvonne Parks at www.pearcreative.ca

Interior design and typesetting by Katherine Lloyd at www.TheDESKonline.com

Editing by Mark Sandford of Elijah House

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

I would like to thank Deborah, Jonathan, Mark, John, Paula, Carl, Lonnie, James, Lilli, Sterling, Dan, Stephen, Terry, Glee, Margaret, Linda, Ras, Bev, John, Kim, David, Yvonne, Scott, Russell, Phillip, Paul, Juli, Sue, Gordon, Susan, Ed, Pat, Gloria, Hal, Penny, Beth, Richard. All of you have played a significant role in the formation of this book. God bless you!

Table of Contents

Introduction: Forgiving is Simple, It's Just Not Easy

Section I

Chapter 1: What Makes Forgiving So Hard?

Chapter 2: Why It’s Good to Forgive

Chapter 3: Forgiving Those who “Trespass Against Us”

Chapter 4: When Should We Forgive?

Section II

Chapter 5: Part 1: Who to Forgive and For What

Chapter 6: Part 2: Letting Go

Chapter 7: Part 3: Healing the Wounds

Chapter 8: Part 4: Forgive Me-Confession

Chapter 9: Part 5: Trusting God

Chapter 10: Part 6: Blessing and Enduring

Section III

Chapter 11: Forgive Always

Gebet In Deutscher Sprache (Forgiving Prayer in German)

Perdonar la Oración en Español (Forgiving Prayer in Spanish)

MP3 Resource

End Notes

Introduction

Forgiving Is Simple, It’s Just Not Easy

In October of 2006, Charles Roberts walked into an Amish schoolhouse in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, barricaded the doors, and proceeded to shoot ten young girls ranging in age from six to twelve. Five died immediately and three more died over the next few days. The nation was shocked, our hearts and spirits violated by this senseless act. All the more frustrating and confusing was the fact that Charles Roberts committed suicide as the Pennsylvania state police broke through the schoolhouse doors. There would be no trial, no explanation, no one to punish or hold accountable, and no resolution. We had no one on whom to place our blame and judgment—at least no one alive. We had no recourse.

Quietly, riding in horse-drawn carriages, the Amish families and friends of the slain little girls gathered. They covered their faces with their hands as they wept for their loss. Funerals were performed over the next few weeks and the world watched as they grieved.

As the news media covered the event and its aftereffects, what we all heard and saw was an unfolding expression of forgiveness. We learned that the Amish community had extended an invitation to Maria Roberts, the wife of the man who killed their daughters, to attend one of the last meetings to express their grief and sorrow. They recognized that she too had experienced overwhelming loss—her husband and the father of their three children. They chose to live one of the basic tenets of their faith: forgiveness. In stark contrast, the world was outraged.

Whole peoples have been so victimized in history that the issue of forgiveness appears unthinkable, perhaps even unjust. Do the concentration camp victims forgive the persecutors? Should they? Can they? Should forgiveness even be in the vocabulary of those who have been tortured or murdered or ground down by generations of oppressors? Such questions are not abstract exercises in ethics seminars, but sad realities. Can we really expect those who are being horribly mutilated in African civil wars to forgive their enemies? —Lawrence Cunningham[1]

Every day we are reminded of the pain, suffering, and evil in our world, as the media bombards us with images of the unimaginable: the brutal events in the Amish community, terrorist bombs exploding across the globe, senseless mass murders and genocide in war-torn areas of the world, to name a few. Faced with such tragedies and the horror of some people’s actions, we instinctively respond with shock and often an automatic “I could never forgive such a thing.” Rather than reaching for the healing power of forgiveness, we harden our hearts to defend against the “unforgiveable” and turn our minds to seek some way to rationalize or understand how such horrors could occur.

Human pain is inflicted not only in grand scale or in monumental events, but in everyday existence, and closer to home. Rifts occur daily in our dearest relationships—brought on by selfishness, betrayal, and ugly words that wound—creating estrangement between parent and child, husband and wife, friend and neighbor. This is the fertile soil in which bitterness and judgment can grow over years and even generations.

“In almost every type of relationship, we don’t seem to be able to refrain from hurting one another. Sometimes, the wounding can be so devastating that the only retaliation is a loving forgiveness of each other’s wrongs.”[2]

This means choosing to give up judgments and resentments—the responses we allow to infect our lives as we condemn those who act against us, those who assault our sensibilities. While we are unable to prevent or alleviate much of the pain and suffering in the world, we can decide how we are going to respond to these emotional affronts. We can learn to forgive not only global atrocities but the hurts and wounds that pierce our hearts daily.

Forgiving is simple; it’s just not easy. This book is a simple guide to the hard work of forgiving.

One morning, as a pastor friend was praying for my work on this book, he compared forgiveness to a diamond. When we look at a beautiful diamond from one vantage point only, it is pretty, to be sure. But when we hold it up to the light, turning it one way and then the other, its many facets are revealed in stunning color and beauty. It is the same stone as before. It hasn’t changed—but how we see it certainly has.

The concept of forgiving is similar. We all agree that it is good thing. Yet perhaps our familiarity with the word has lulled us into thinking about it in a superficial way. We hear how important forgiving is, and we are often challenged with the idea that we should forgive, but in reality, most of us don’t. As C. S. Lewis said, “Everyone thinks forgiveness is a lovely idea until they have something to forgive.”[3]

My goal in writing this book is to offer a new and encouraging perspective on how to forgive. We can want to forgive; we can intend to forgive; we can even say the words “I forgive.” But that is rarely enough. For most of us, there is much more to accomplishing real and lasting healing through forgiveness. As my friend prayed, “Like a diamond, Lord, allow Your light to shine on forgiving. Show us how to forgive from a new perspective, revealing more of the beauty and sacrifice Your Son made as He forgave us.”

I recently met a couple who lost their teenage daughter to a drunk driver in 1985. When I asked about forgiving, they said, “We try, but the pain keeps coming back.” Even after all these years, they still found it difficult to forgive. This book is written for them!

Section I

Chapter 1

What Makes Forgiving So Hard?

When asked if we see ourselves as forgiving people, most of us will say yes. This nearly automatic response comes from the belief that we should be a forgiving people, without thinking much about whether we really are. As children we are taught that forgiveness is good. Most of us really do believe this, yet few of us actually forgive, even though we say we do as we go through the motions. It’s these very motions—the many things we think and do instead of forgiving—that keep us from finding the healing gift God intended for us all. Later I will explain what forgiving truly is, but first let’s explore what it is not.

Instead of forgiving, we understand.

During one-on-one ministry, when I ask someone if he or she has forgiven a particular person for a particular act, I usually hear one of two responses. The first is “Why, no, I hadn’t really thought of it.” The second is a tentative “Yes …” followed by an explanation of understanding, such as “After all, he had such a hard life, he could hardly have known any better,” or “She had a lot on her plate, raising six kids and all.” In both cases, real forgiveness is neither considered nor accomplished. Instead of choosing the sacrificial and inevitably humbling process to forgive, we often choose the more attractive and considerably easier substitute of understanding or rationalizing.

To want to understand what is going on in our own or another’s life is not inherently damaging or dysfunctional; in fact, it can be helpful in the healing process. It is natural and appropriate to be aware of the conditions and factors affecting our lives. On the cross Jesus modeled understanding as part of the forgiveness process when He said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34). But note that Jesus said, “Father, forgive them,” not, “Father, excuse them.”

Furthermore, understanding is used too often as a convenient means to avoid and sidestep the process of acknowledging the hurts and wounds (which makes forgiving more effective). We cannot truly forgive until we admit that the offense is as wounding as it really is, and therefore really does need to be forgiven. When understanding becomes the substitute not only for forgiving but for sharing about feelings, healing does not occur.

Jason had been abused by his father for many years until he was able to leave home. He shared with me horrific accounts of physical beatings and relentless emotional abuse, and had come for counseling for marital problems, unaware of the bitterness stored in his heart toward his father. When asked if he had forgiven his father, he replied, “Of course I have forgiven him. You see, he was an alcoholic, and he didn’t really know what he was doing. I understand.”

What Jason saw as forgiving was actually rationalizing and denial. He was hiding the pain of his father’s abuse behind his desperate desire to understand, and his understanding was the reason he used to avoid the much more difficult yet life-giving process of forgiving. It was an attempt to avoid reality and much of the painful and necessary acknowledgement of his wounds, hurts, and resultant judgments. But this doesn’t work, at least not for long.

Our culture throws information at us from all directions. As I write, I am using a laptop computer. When hooked up to the Internet, it can access information that is literally without end—more than I could ever use. We have learned to idolize information. Even Scripture tells us that we are destroyed for lack of knowledge (Hosea 4:6), yet we continue to substitute large amounts of useless information in place of appropriate knowledge and real forgiveness.

When Jason was confronted with the pain of his abuse, he was able to sidestep the issue by sharing his knowledge of his father’s alcoholism as “understanding” of the situation—a very cognitive process—thereby avoiding the real issues of pain and wounding in his heart and allowing his mind to rescue him from the pain. This also helped him to feel better and a bit magnanimous—proud of his ability to identify and analyze the situation, and thus sympathize and ultimately excuse his father. This pride is the opposite of the function of forgiving, which is sacrificial and humbling.

Although Jason “understood” his father, his unattended hurts and wounds had fostered resentment, bitterness, and judgment in his heart. Because these were unresolved and had no outlet, Jason was tempted to abuse his wife just as he had been abused by his father. His knowledge had not helped him with his anger or his marriage; it wasn’t enough. Without the healing that forgiving brings, we live lives of desperation and futility, and we are destined to repeat patterns of destruction. Jesus came to renew our minds and heal our hearts, to help us change how we think, and to teach us how to forgive.

Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will.

—Romans 12:22

Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

—Psalm 51:10

There is no substitute for real forgiveness, as God defines it.

Instead of forgiving, we offer false grace.

When someone asks to be forgiven, a common response is “Oh, that’s OK, just forget it.” We offer a kind of false grace, as if what the person did or did not do had no effect on us at all. Even when the pain seems unbearable, we pretend that nothing happened, suppressing the messages of pain, and even feeling proud of our strength. Somehow we have come to believe that this is what we are supposed to do when someone hurts us. Moreover, it’s what we expect to hear from those from whom we ask forgiveness. If we respond more honestly by saying, “Thank you for saying something. Yes, I was hurt, and I do forgive you,” we will likely be seen as not playing the game correctly. Better to say, “It was nothing. It’s OK.”

Unfortunately, this more socially accepted way of dealing with pain or offense does nothing to accomplish what the Lord designed forgiving to do—bring healing to our hearts. He shows us this clearly by His own response to the pain of His burden. Jesus cried out in sorrow and distress in Gethsemane, and sought out friends to stand with Him in His struggle. He didn’t hide or reject his feelings.

He took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with him, and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.”

—Matthew 26:37–38

We refuse to forgive because what was done to us is so painful.

Sometimes when we feel seriously wronged, we choose not to forgive because we are not willing to write our pain off so easily. We struggle under the misconception that by forgiving we’re sending the message that what the other person has done is OK. Real forgiveness acknowledges that a wrong has been done and it’s not OK. In many cases this actually validates the hurt, for it confirms that a hurtful offense has truly been committed. In the end, this makes us freer to forgive.

Jesus cried out in pain throughout the Gospels, yet never said that what was happening was OK. He confronted His disciples when they offended Him, especially Peter. He confronted the scribes and the Pharisees.

Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the kingdom of heaven in men’s faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to.

—Matthew 23:13

He confronted most everyone with the truth, yet chose to go to the cross as payment for their wrongs. We can forgive without claiming that what someone has done is OK.

Instead of forgiving, we choose false loyalty.

When confronted with the need to forgive someone we care for, especially our parents, we can be conflicted by our loyalty to them. Scripture tells us to honor our father and mother, and that children should obey their parents. So when it comes to identifying and expressing hurts or wounds inflicted by our parents, we may hesitate, fearful of judging them, which would feel traitorous and disloyal. It is not disloyal to admit there were times when our parents were not loving. The simple yet difficult process of clarifying our parents’ behavior, and of talking about what they did or didn’t do, is not judgment. We are disloyal when we condemn and judge our parents for not loving us, not when we report and accept the truth. Identifying and accepting the truth is an essential component of healing. Unless we identify what needs forgiving, we cannot forgive. Denying truth in order to protect another’s image is false loyalty and becomes a hindrance to the forgiving and healing process.

We don’t forgive to avoid reliving the past.

The desire to avoid reliving or even recalling the pain of our past is understandable. God has created us with mechanisms to cope with traumatic and painful experiences. During times of great wounding, we may forget or distance ourselves from the reality of the situation. Even our bodies don’t always fully experience the physical pain of an injury until the next day. A few years ago I fell and cracked three ribs. I didn’t realize how badly I’d hurt myself until the next day, after the immediate trauma had passed. Similarly, emotional trauma can initially be dulled by shock, denial, or dissociation as a means of coping with pain.

This kind of coping in no way removes the long-term effects. When we make the decision to forgive, we are paradoxically giving assent to go boldly into the very places we may have avoided for years. As children we may have been taught to ignore and brush off pain (“Big girls and boys don’t cry.”) and that if we simply ignore our painful experiences, we won’t ever have to deal with them. In truth, many events we have relegated to the past aren’t in the past at all—they continue to affect our relationships and our lives daily. Counselors sometimes refer to this process as suppression and expression, indicating that whatever we suppress will surely come out later in our lives and not always in the most appropriate way or circumstances.

Scripture describes this cycle through the image of “bitter roots” in the book of Hebrews. “Bitter roots” are not the hurtful things that happen to us; they are our sinful responses to those hurts, wounding us and defiling those around us.

See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.

Hebrews 12:15

Note that we are to “see to it” that bitter roots are removed, that they not be allowed to do their damage. We have an option, a choice, when deciding how we are going to respond to being hurt.

Candace came for a week of counsel, without her husband. She complained that while he provided well financially, he was never there for her. He worked too much; his job was more important to him than she was. She felt lonely and angry.

Candace had come from a family in which Dad and Mom had stayed married for more than fifty years. She evaluated her childhood as “happy,” based on the fact that she had not been sexually or physically abused. As we explored the dynamics of her rearing, she shared that “Mom was a heavy drinker, but not a falling-down drunk,” rationalizing that it really wasn’t so bad. But at one point Candace revealed that her mom was critical of her in virtually every area of her life. She would make fun of how Candace dressed, and whom she chose for friends; she was even critical of how she walked.

Candace’s father was a hard-working man. He owned a very successful business and provided well for the physical needs of the family. Candace was proud of her father and loved him dearly. He was a gentle man, and she remembered that he would read to her before bedtime when she was little. When I asked her how Dad dealt with her mother’s alcohol problem, Candace became a bit uncomfortable. I knew she didn’t want to discuss how he handled the situation—or more accurately, how he hadn’t handled it. As Candace explained that her father was gone a lot and worked “really hard,” I could see that she was protecting him from any accountability in the situation.

I then asked a very pointed question: “Why didn’t your father protect you from your mom?”

Candace answered impatiently, ”I told you he was gone a lot!” She fell quiet a moment, pondering both the question and her response, and then added angrily, “What right do you have to suggest my father wasn’t there for me? My father loves me!”

I sat quietly. Candace stood up and told me I shouldn’t imply that her father had neglected her. But I hadn’t spoken since my original question. When I asked where she thought the word neglect had come from, she blurted out, “My husband is the one who is neglecting me, not my father!” Her voice trailed off as she heard her own words.

At that point Candace’s whole demeanor changed. Her face softened, her eyes filled with tears, and she gently said, “Daddy did neglect me, didn’t he?” She sat down and wept.

Candace had done a good job of hiding the reality of her situation and protecting her father, not wanting to admit his absence in her life was painful and wounding. Her mother’s offenses had been easier to recognize and react to with blame and judgment, which made it easy to discover bitter roots, but her father’s were much more difficult to identify. She later admitted that her husband was a good man, and that at times he did pursue her, but that she had attributed her unexplained feelings of loneliness to her present situation and blamed her husband. Candace had protected herself from the terrible pain of her youth, not knowing that her marriage was being affected directly by events stored away so many years ago.

With that revealed, we were able to look at the hurts and wounds in relation to her mother and father and separate them from present-day issues with her husband. After several more prayer-filled and tearful sessions, Candace was able to recognize the extent of her father’s neglect. This enabled her to forgive him as well as her mother, and to ask forgiveness for the bitterness she had long hidden in her heart.

Sharing these revelations with her husband relieved her greatly, and she found him becoming more sensitive to her needs. Candace was now able to look at her husband’s shortcomings without judgment and to confront lovingly as well as see and appreciate his gifts and abilities. She no longer had to avoid the painful memories of her childhood.

Instead of forgiving, we live in denial.

Denial in its simplest form is making oneself unaware, wanting to avoid or not wanting to admit something. The spectrum of denial is quite broad: it can be as subtle as choosing not to believe that a situation causes pain (as we saw with Candace) and then forgetting we ever made such a choice, or as overt as choosing to boldly lie about our situation, while convincing ourselves that our lie is the truth. Denial has also been described as being known to others and unknown to self. That is, what our hearts deceive us into thinking we are successfully hiding is often obvious to others.

We can use denial to protect our image or avoid a difficult truth or behavior. When I teach others about ministering to the heart, I stress that denial is one of the most prevalent conditions they must address in the healing process. Many people would rather choose the false refuge of denial than the freedom of forgiving; they would rather hide from the pain than exercise faith that if they face reality there will be a better life beyond.

Scripture is filled with examples of denial, and most of us, like those in these examples, use denial to avoid pain. In Genesis 18:13–15,

Then the LORD said to Abraham, “Why did Sarah laugh and say, ‘Will I really have a child, now that I am old?’ Is anything too hard for the LORD? I will return to you at the appointed time next year, and Sarah will have a son.” Sarah was afraid, so she lied and said, “I did not laugh.” But he said, “Yes, you did laugh.”

—Genesis 18:13–15

Sarah lied, a form of denial, because of her fear. And Matthew 26:69–75 shares with us how Peter lied when confronted with his friendship with Jesus, to avoid being arrested.

Now Peter was sitting out in the courtyard, and a servant girl came to him. “You also were with Jesus of Galilee,” she said. But he denied it before them all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. Then he went out to the gateway, where another girl saw him and said to the people there, “This fellow was with Jesus of Nazareth.” He denied it again, with an oath: “I don’t know the man!” After a little while, those standing there went up to Peter and said, “Surely you are one of them; your accent gives you away.” Then he began to call down curses, on himself and he swore to them, “I don’t know the man!” Immediately a rooster crowed. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken: “Before the rooster crows, you will disown me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly.

—Matthew 26:69–75

Denial is not wrong in all cases; in fact, it is a transitory support mechanism given to us by God when we face unbearable trials. When we learn of the sudden death of a loved one, as did Jesus’ disciples, to find it difficult to accept is natural. We may need time and great healing to absorb the reality of a situation and the associated pain and grieving that goes with it. But to consistently avoid truth, sticking our heads in the sand, is to be in denial about what the Lord is allowing in our lives. In the end, we keep our pain.

To make a choice to forgive, we must first recognize that there is a reason to forgive. God’s command to forgive wouldn’t make sense if there hasn’t been some perception of a wound.

The decision to acknowledge our wounds can be difficult. It means that we recognize or perceive that someone has hurt us and that we feel pain. For some it seems preferable to avoid that reality. For those who have experienced a great deal of wounding, the habit of denial—avoiding the hurts and wounds that prompt forgiveness—has become a way of life. Sometimes pain is so great that we have chosen to keep it hidden, pushing it down so far that we have actually forgotten it. It is only when we recognize bitter roots springing forth, in the form of judgments and sinful behavior, that we have some indication that there is judgment in our hearts. Only when we admit to our wounding can we break the habit of denial and accept the responsibility to forgive and be healed.

Pain happens when you care! —Temperance Brennan[4]

When we make the decision to forgive, we can depend on a loving God who knows all our pain. When Jesus suffered, in Gethsemane and on the cross, He chose not to be in denial about His pain. He wouldn’t command us to forgive if He didn’t know the freedom that it would bring us.

Instead of forgiving we believe we should forget.

Many believe that forgiving is forgetting, that the process of forgiving includes forgetting the hurtful offenses of those who have wounded us. Scripture speaks of God forgetting in Job 11:6 and remembering no more in Hebrews 8:12 and 10:17. But does this mean that God literally forgets sins? If so, He must no longer be aware of the many instances in Scripture where He has recorded the sins of His saints. Can you imagine what would have happened if God had literally forgotten the sins of His followers? We would have no record of the faults and foibles of the likes of David, Peter, and Paul, and thus no way to learn from them. Obviously remembering no more does not mean that God has truly forgotten; rather, it means He no longer counts our sins against us.

Thankfully, the Lord doesn’t do a lobotomy on us when we forgive. He doesn’t create amnesia to make us forget the events in our life. A healed memory is not a deleted memory.[5] To the contrary, He wants us to remember. Our ability and decision to remember become part of the healing process of forgiving. The memories of some offenses committed against us are so painful that we may never forget them. Nor should we. As we are reminded of hurts and offenses, we are also reminded to forgive again and again until the miracle of healing occurs, until we are able to remember them without judgment.

When Jesus was in Gethsemane, He spoke of His broken heart and sorrow, clearly identifying both the pain He was experiencing and the pain He would experience. We too can choose to invite God to be part of the healing process. Just because we can still remember our hurts and wounds doesn’t mean we haven’t forgiven. In the end we will cherish the lessons learned, though free from former pain and bitterness.

Instead of forgiving we stay mad.

Scripture tells us that little is accomplished through anger and that we are to be slow to anger, which suggests that our quick and automatic response to real and perceived hurts is neither productive nor helpful.

My dear brothers, take note of this: everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because a man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.

—James 1:19–20

“In your anger do not sin.” Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold.

—Ephesians 4:26–27

The Bible also distinguishes vengeful, judgmental anger from righteous anger—the ability to be angry at wrongdoing without judging the sinner (Ephesians 4:26–27). Are we able to grieve and even feel angry at the plight of the poor? Can we anguish and have righteous anger over the loss of life through abortion, without blaming those involved?

Most of the anger I have observed over years of living and counseling has been judgmental and vengeful. These sinful expressions of wounding offer good reason to forgive and release the anger that destroys us.

But before that can happen, we must be able to identify our anger. Perhaps more than any emotion, anger is a powerful message telling us that something is wrong and that we have been hurt or wounded. In most cases we choose to respond inappropriately to our wounding. When hurt, we often respond by judging, blaming, and condemning. Moreover, because of lessons learned in childhood, most of us think this behavior is a perfectly acceptable way of responding to hurt.

We’ve all seen bitterness or rage in those around us as they responded poorly to the difficulties of life. We weren’t taught that while it’s OK to feel angry at things that have hurt us, we are not to judge the people who hurt us. My father had a small business during my childhood. On many occasions I witnessed his angry response to customers who may have been rude or took up much of his time and didn’t purchase anything. Scripture tells us to be angry without sinning, giving us permission to feel angry, but not to blame and condemn. When we choose appropriate expressions of hurt or wounding instead of expressions of anger, we are choosing the beginning of a godly response to pain and suffering.

Instead of forgiving, we build walls.

Another common response to the question, “Have you forgiven?” is “Of course I have. I have said the words I forgive, and have even told the person I forgive him.” But on the inside, we are still grumbling, and very often still judging. Instead of investing our whole hearts in forgiving, we let those words roll off our tongue as if sharing a simple greeting.

Gary came from the Midwest for a week of intense counseling. His marriage was failing, and his heart was filled with hurtful memories of the past. He found it difficult to share with his wife of sixteen years. They had settled for a life of existing together, not living together. When asked where he thought his inability to relate to his wife might come from, he shared about his horrendous childhood. His parents’ alcoholism and physical abuse filled his memories. The abuse stopped after his parents divorced, but he couldn’t shake the pain and feelings of loneliness. Gary had learned to build walls to protect his wounded heart, not realizing those walls not only kept others out, but kept him imprisoned as well.

For fourteen years, the countless days and nights of his parents’ arguing and fighting had taken their toll on his gentle heart. As a boy lying in his bed at night, Gary worked hard to reconcile the conflict he witnessed between his father and mother. One night he would “forgive” and side with his mother and blame his father for all of the conflict; the next night he would “forgive” his dad and place all the blame and judgment on his mother. There were times he blamed himself or God as well. No matter who was “at fault,” the reality was that Gary was building a structure of resentment and bitterness around his heart, even though he had expressed words of “forgiveness.” His words were not enough. Until his heart, mind, and will were involved in true forgiveness for all, forgiving was incomplete.

This pattern is not unique to Gary. We have all experienced the pain and wounding of the world around us, and many respond in the same way Gary did, by allowing that pain to form roots of bitterness, creating the walls that surround our hearts.

Instead of forgiving we compensate and adapt.

Like Gary, Martha also thought she had forgiven. As the praise-and-worship leader at her church, Martha was a respected member of her community. No one knew of the pain she kept deep in her heart. She had learned from her earliest years to cover up and suppress the deep wounding and shame from the years of sexual abuse from her stepfather. As a young woman, Martha was very popular and a straight-A student. She became a cheerleader and joined many clubs. These activities gave her the excuse she needed to get away from home. After she graduated and there were no more school functions to keep her in denial of her stepfather’s abuse, she turned to alcohol. Later she turned to sexual relationships with married men.

The compensations and adjustments she made as a child seemed to work in her early years. They helped her get through those terrible experiences. But, like Gary, as Martha grew into adulthood, she began to realize that they no longer worked. The alcohol and illicit relationships were not enough to block out painful memories. Martha had replaced the abuses of her childhood with a destructive lifestyle, which she now worked very hard to hide from her church community.

The childish ways we adapt to our painful surroundings seem to work when we are children. They may include avoiding the situation by choosing to repress events that are destructive, escaping through activities such as excessive reading, engaging in many extracurricular activities like clubs and sports, or discovering that drugs and alcohol can be used to mask unpleasant realities. As we grow into adulthood and the abuses have ceased, the compensations and adjustments that “helped” as children now become the greater problem, especially by keeping us from forming healthy relationships. Along with the immature habits from childhood, we carry with us judgments and bitterness that have accumulated in our hearts for many years.

I could not change the painful reality of Martha’s childhood. But there was much healing that could be accomplished in regard to the wounding and abuse she experienced and the resultant unforgiveness that she carried into her adult life.

As we become aware of the factors and circumstances that prevent us from forgiving, we yearn to know why we should forgive. Chapter 2 shares the reasons for hope and healing as we move on to the reasons for forgiving.

Forgiveness is above all a personal choice, a decision of the heart to go against the natural instinct to pay back evil with evil.

—John Paul II[6]

Chapter 2

Why It’s Good to Forgive

Why must we forgive? The answer for Christians is simple: God has made it clear throughout Scripture. Jesus taught, “Forgive so you will be forgiven” (Matthew 6:14–15). But forgiving is not just a rule for behavior. It is a central human experience expressed in countless Old and New Testament stories, from Jacob and Esau to Jesus on the cross—a primary feature in the history of God’s relationship with his creation. Its power through sacrifice and love is relevant in virtually every moment and every detail of our lives.

Most of us think of forgiving as a command, even when we are reeling from the hurt of another’s actions. But why? How is justice served? What is accomplished in the act of forgiving that makes it so important to God and to us?

This chapter offers some of the best reasons I know to forgive, reasons that have helped me and many others over the years to choose to forgive, even when it seemed like it was the last thing we wanted to do.

By choosing to forgive, we enter into a collaboration with God.

When it comes to who is responsible for forgiving, we often see it in one of two ways: either it is something God does in us or for us, or something we must do on our own. But forgiving is actually a collaboration, a covenant relationship between God and us. In my work of counseling, I’ve known many believers who want Christianity to be done to them, taking the position that we should act as reverent and expectant bystanders waiting for an all-powerful God to do it all. At the other extreme, some Christians believe that while God is a great inspiration, we must do all the work of being holy ourselves.

The Bible takes a different view: that God created us for fellowship, “walking in the garden [with Adam and Eve] in the cool of the day” (Genesis 3:8) and sending His Son to restore that fellowship (1 Corinthians 1:9). Everything meaningful we do is accomplished in partnership with Him. We are designed to seek God out in a loving relationship, which means that we have responsibilities to Him and He has responsibilities to us. God created us both to love Him and to be loved by Him.

To love God is no small responsibility. Scripture gives us the law and the Ten Commandments, telling us quite clearly what to do and not to do.

The Ten Commandments

I. You shall have no other gods before me.

II. You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below.

III. You shall not misuse the name of the LORD your God, for the LORD will not hold anyone guiltless who misuses his name.

IV. Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God.

V. Honor your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the LORD your God is giving you.

VI. You shall not murder.

VII. You shall not commit adultery.

VIII. You shall not steal.

IX. You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor.

X. You shall not covet your neighbor's house. You shall not covet your neighbor's wife, or his manservant or maidservant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor.

Jesus shared the Beatitudes to guide and inspire us to live our lives according to His precepts.

The Beatitudes

Blessed are the poor in spirit: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are they that mourn: for they will be comforted.

Blessed are the meek: for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness: for they will be filled.

Blessed are the merciful: for they will be shown mercy.

Blessed are the pure in heart: for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers: for they will be called the son’s of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you, when people insult  you, and persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you, because of me. Rejoice, and be glad: because  great is your reward in heaven: for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

—Matthew 5:3–12

Paul writes in Ephesians 2:10 that we are “God’s handiwork created in Christ Jesus to do His will which God prepared in advance.” These biblical directives can seem impossible to achieve at times, so much so that the command to forgive seems on the surface the least of our worries; that is, until we must do it. But we cannot do it alone. Like the child who must be willing to place himself in his parents’ embrace, we must be willing to cooperate with God while He empowers us to forgive.

Although Christians readily believe that Jesus assumed the burden of our sins to heal a broken world, the idea that God makes Himself responsible to and for each one of us seems hard to grasp. We think it is inappropriate and even arrogant to have personal expectations of God. Yet Scripture is filled with God’s plans, forecasts, and promises to us.

God wants us to depend on Him just as He depends on us. How much more could God show of His love for us than to offer His only Son? It is indeed arrogant to have demands on God, but it isn’t arrogant to have healthy expectations of Him. That is faith—a belief that God is going to do what He says He is going to do.

For no matter how many promises God has made, they are "Yes" in Christ. And so through him the “Amen” is spoken by us to the glory of God. —2 Corinthians 1:20

What joy it brings to believe in a loving God, who is fully invested in us and hopes for the same from us. When we choose to forgive, we are proclaiming that relationship, that collaboration.

By forgiving we are free to accept the forgiveness that Jesus paid for.

When Jesus said, “Forgive so that you will be forgiven” (Matthew 6:14–15), He was not proclaiming some type of spiritual tit-for-tat.

For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins.

—Matthew 6:14–15

He was describing a powerful dynamic that can be explained in two ways. One way to understand this command is to accept that when Jesus speaks, we are to listen and obey.

Why do you call me Lord, Lord and do not do what I say?

—Luke 6:46

Must we always understand the meaning or the rationale behind His edicts, or the logic of God’s thinking process? Modern western culture works hard to figure things out, assuming that all knowledge is available for the taking. But our Christian faith asks us to accept that God would not ask us to do anything that doesn’t serve our good and His will. In that spirit of trust, sometimes we simply need to do what Jesus says.

Another way of looking at Christ’s directive is to understand what happens when we don’t forgive. We are spirit, soul, and body. As our spirit meets life, our soul responds in a way that impacts all of the characteristics we identify as being human—our thoughts, feelings, conscience, attitudes and beliefs, etc. Put another way, the state of the soul is the product of the spirit meeting life. If a child’s spirit is loved and nurtured, the soul reflects that, and in turn is able to love and nurture. If the child’s spirit is abused and neglected and the soul chooses to respond with unforgiveness, it reflects that unforgiveness through the will and the flesh. We react to wounds by forming resentments and judgments that act as impediments to the life God offers us. These impediments—some call them roadblocks or logjams; I refer to them as walls—are built over time with bricks of bitterness and blame, stacked high over the years. They are sinful monuments to the hurts and wounds we experience. Although we almost always perceive these walls as protecting us from more pain, in reality they have three devastating consequences in our lives.

The first consequence is that, because our walls are sin, they cut us off from God. Knowing this helps us to understand more fully Christ’s command to forgive lest we not be forgiven. To the degree we are cut off from God, we—like the child who refuses a loving embrace—will be unable to receive from Him. This will limit our ability to believe that we are loved and, yes, even forgiven. That is, we will not be able to accept what Christ did for us on the cross; in our hearts, we will remain condemned.

The second consequence of our walls is that they cut us off from others. We often think they will protect us from painful interactions in hurtful relationships. We mistakenly believe that they will keep some people out but not others. But walls by their nature are not selective, and they will bar entrance even to those with whom we seek relationship. Thus, they block the good as well as the bad, and sometimes only the good. Sadly, walls formed to protect us only help us to form habits of isolation and bitterness, and ultimately, they don’t prevent us from being hurt or wounded.

The third consequence of walls made of sin is that we are blocked and hidden by them. The Lord put us on this earth to be seen and heard, and when we hinder ourselves by creating walls, we limit our effectiveness as God’s children. How many of us yearn to be recognized as the unique individuals God made us to be, with all of our gifts and abilities, yet languish in loneliness and isolation behind self-made walls of unforgiveness?

Jerry attended a class I taught on forgiving. He approached me and asked, “Is it that simple? Do I just forgive and then I become all that God made me to be?” There was frustration in his voice. I answered, “Yes, it’s that simple. But you won’t become all that God made you to be; you will reveal who God has already made you to be!” Like many, Jerry believed that if he did the right things and he performed, his life would go well, and forgiving seemed like just another performance to qualify for a good life. But he was tired of acting. He shared that he had been struggling in his marriage to gain respect and be seen as a strong, confident husband. I asked what example he wanted to model his behavior after. He responded quickly, “Well, it wouldn’t be my father; he was too weak. His constant indecision and wimpy responses to my mother’s strong personality were pathetic. I didn’t respect him. At least Mom could make decisions!” Jerry’s disrespect and lack of honor for his father and his sin of judgment were blocking God’s intention for Jerry to be a strong and confident man.

Do not take revenge my friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge: I will repay,” says the Lord.

—Romans 12:19

Although the concept of forgiving is simple, it is not easy to do. I asked if Jerry would like to pray with me and start the hard work of forgiving his father for his weakness and lack of godly leadership in the home. As we prayed I sensed a softening and compassion in Jerry’s tone, and at one point he said, “I always wanted Dad to get it right.” Jerry was now on the path to healing. He would no longer be cut off from God, his wife, and himself because of judgment in his heart.

Forgiveness is our God-given alternative to reacting sinfully to the pain of wounding. So, while we find many reasons to obey God, through which we realize our full potential as His creation, by forgiving, we also gain the full benefit of His grace by being forgiven ourselves.

We forgive to identify with Jesus.

It wasn’t fair that our sin should defile Jesus, who was without sin. To identify with Christ’s experience on the cross, Christians are to identify with and experience His humility. Jesus was made low on the cross; He accepted all of our sin. When Jesus commands us to forgive, He is fully aware that we will be humbled in the process, that we will be choosing the unfair experience of acknowledging our hurts or wounds, without retaliation. Our natural response to wounding is to want revenge, to pay back what was done to us. We are humbled when we allow God to handle the situation.

THE FORGIVING

Forgive?

Will I forgive,

You cry.

But

What is the gift,

The favor?

You would lift

Me from

My poor place

To stand beside

The Savior.

You would have

Me see with

His eyes,

Smile,

And with Him

Reach out to

Salve

A sorrowing heart—

For one small

Moment

To share in

Christ’s great art.

Will I forgive,

You cry.

Oh,

May I—

May I?

Carol Lynn Pearson[7]

Along with humility will be suffering. Jesus anguished on the cross, bearing the indignity of paying for the crimes and sins of all, while not deserving to have to pay for even one. He suffered great physical pain as His flesh was assaulted by the centurion’s spear as well as the nails in the cross and the spikes in the thorns. When he cried out to His Father, “Why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46), He was experiencing the great loneliness of bearing all of our sins Himself. It was His cup, and His alone.

From the sixth hour until the ninth hour of darkness came over all the land. About the ninth hour Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”—which means, My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?

—Matthew 27:45–46

When we forgive, we too will suffer the pain of our sacrifice, the relinquishing of our right to be paid back for our loss, the pain of giving up our fleshly desire for getting even. In forgiving we identify with Christ’s helplessness, accepting in faith that Jesus already paid for the sins of those who have sinned against us, and trusting in God alone as the righteous Judge.

Forgiving opens the door to restore relationships.

When we first accept the invitation to a relationship with Christ, whether we see it as a one-time decision or a sacramental journey over a lifetime, we are encouraged to invite Jesus into our hearts. Many Christians do this by saying, “Jesus, I invite You into my heart,” as part of the sinner’s prayer. This invitation is the beginning of a relationship, a walk with the Lord. As we grow in this new relationship, we learn to take baby steps, reading Scripture, forming new relationships with other Christians, and finding a church body that supports our newfound convictions. As faith grows and our relationship with God matures, we want more; we expect more from God and are willing to give more. Scripture helps us understand this maturing process when we read that as a child we spoke and thought as a child, but as adults we speak and act as adults (1 Corinthians 13:11).

Each time we choose to forgive, we are again inviting Jesus into our hearts and lives. Each time we forgive, we are reminded of the sacrifice Christ made on the cross for us. We are humbled, no longer playing the passive role of asking Jesus to come into our hearts and waiting till He does so. We are choosing to accomplish a series of acts that prepare our heart, souls, and spirits to receive a new and deeper relationship with God. When we choose forgiveness we are taking steps to clear the path for the Lord’s journey into our lives. In Revelation 3:20 the Lord tells us, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock and if anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in.”

God sees our forgiving as that invitation and will come freely to us with healing that brings increasing intimacy.

Just as forgiveness helps restore our relationship with God, it also repairs our differences with those who hurt us. When we choose to forgive others, we clear the path to see them as the Lord sees them, not through wounded hearts and judgmental eyes. That doesn’t mean relationships will be repaired right away, or at all, especially as some people are unsafe to be around. But we will see them in light of who the Lord made them to be. Our hearts will turn to compassion and we will be more open.

Forgiveness brings healing to our lives.

When we make the decision to forgive, we reveal a spiritual dynamic in our relationship with God. We proclaim Christ’s death on the cross and create a path for the Lord to come deeper into our lives. Our willingness to forgive removes roots of bitterness—the sins that form a barrier, hindering our relationship with God. When we choose not to forgive, we remain in bondage to a variety of negative conditions that continue to wound us.

Unforgiveness creates fertile ground in which bitter roots can thrive and grow. We are reminded of the hurts done to us and are bound to the constant painful and debilitating memories of our wounds, which tempts us to stay angry and judgmental.

Unforgiveness keeps us in a state of constant guilt. We are frequently reminded of our inability or unwillingness to forgive. As Christians we are aware of Christ’s command to forgive, and we carry the weight of not doing so.

Unforgiveness creates physical and emotional problems. Bitterness traps us in pain, and Proverbs 17:22 tells us that a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

—Proverbs 17:22

Bitterness brings with it physical ailments like ulcers, headaches, and bowel problems as well as a host of emotional and relational issues.

Our decision to forgive often brings relief and healing from these conditions, and enhances the abundant life that Jesus forecasts for us.

The Lord calls us to forgive even if someone comes back seven times claiming to repent. This passage gives us perspective regarding repeated offenses. The person hurting us is either really having a problem changing his behavior, or he is not very committed to the process of repentance. After all, repentance (Greek: metanoia) means “making significant change; turning around.” If someone comes to us seven times in one day asking for forgiveness and claiming to repent, we may conclude that he is not committed. But repentant or not, we are instructed to forgive.

If he sins against you seven times in a day and seven times comes back to you and says, I repent, forgive him.

—Luke 17:4

In Luke 17:4, Jesus makes a strong commentary about forgiveness. Our decision to forgive may not always change the one we are forgiving, but it is still doing something essential in our own hearts. The command to forgive overrides all the rationalizations we use to hold on to our bitterness and judgments—especially the painful reality that people don’t always change because we forgive them.

What a blessing it is when hurts and wounds can be discussed freely and forgiveness and repentance are an active part of relationship. How painful when we realize that some relationships continue to wound us no matter what we do. Our resolve to move ever closer to the Lord in our pain should then strengthen our commitment to forgive. In Gethsemane, Jesus’ heart was nearly broken with sorrow and distress as He experienced the pain of our sin. He then chose the path of humility by dying for us. When we choose to forgive those who cause pain in our lives, we are choosing the path that Jesus chose, the path that God has laid out for us—that of humility and healing.

Grace and peace be yours in abundance through the knowledge of God and of Jesus our Lord

—2 Peter 1:2

We’ve seen the difficulty of forgiving and the reasons to forgive. Now we will explore who to forgive.

Chapter 3

Forgiving Those Who “Trespass Against Us”

I enjoy watching movies in my free time, especially the “shoot ’em ups” where the good guy always wins. We all love stories in which “the little guy” prevails, like David over Goliath against overwhelming odds. They offer us the chance to live vicariously through disadvantaged heroes. After all, the world is an unjust place, and we are all affected. Movies, the media, and books give us heroes who can fight all this unfairness for us.

But such temporary satisfaction is not enough. Deep in our hearts we harbor hurts and wounds inflicted over a lifetime. Around them we have built up hidden structures of bitterness and judgment that no fictional hero can avenge. We hang on to our painful experiences, burying them so deep that sometimes we don’t even remember them, and then we wonder where the anger comes from. Like our heroes, we want to prevail against the injustice in our lives; we want balance. Unlike our substitute avengers, we won’t, in most cases, use violent force to even the score. Our weapons aren’t guns and knives, but they are just as deadly: unforgiveness and revenge. We tip the scales in our favor with bitterness and condemnation. We hold on to the judgments in our hearts, believing that we are exacting payback for the injustices levied against us, and we do so with the “righteousness” befitting a bounty hunter.

Sweet Old Bob

1980 was a good year for me. As an officer and pilot in the United States Air Force, I had been flying on a B-52 crew for six years, the last three as an aircraft commander. In the early part of the year, I was chosen for duty in the 92nd Bomb Wing Command Post, a job that put me in daily contact with the wing commander and his staff, and with national command authorities as awe-inspiring as the Joint Chiefs of Staff. I worked under the director of operations, whom we referred to as SOB—“Sweet Old Bob”—mainly because he was the direct opposite of sweet. Colonel Bob was famous for berating everyone under his command.

One morning, just after I’d briefed the wing commander on an upcoming special mission, Sweet Old Bob confronted me, wanting to know the details of my briefing and why I hadn’t briefed him first. As I began to respond, his face reddened and puffed up like a balloon, and in front of the entire command post, he administered my first public humiliation. Before that moment I had only heard from others how demeaning it felt to be yelled at by him. My thoughts ranged from questioning my career choice to imagining my fist in SOB’s face. I returned to my office embarrassed, angry, and wanting revenge. But before long I realized there was no way to get even. After all, Sweet Old Bob was my superior—any overt vengeful act on my part would have meant the end of my career. So I stored all the anger, disrespect, and judgment in my heart and held on to the memory of the wounding I received that day. It wasn’t until much later, when I learned what forgiving really was, that I was freed from the bitterness in my heart.

In the meantime …

The same year that I was assigned to the command post, I bought a new 1980 Mazda RX7. An instant, beautiful rapport between man and machine was forged that day, so much so that I got a $320.00 speeding ticket within twenty minutes of driving off the showroom floor! A few weeks later, while merging onto the interstate highway close to my home, I accelerated to eighty mph, enjoying my newfound sense of power and speed. I pulled into the fast lane, intending to “see what this baby could do.” Suddenly, out of nowhere, a lumbering 1950s vintage Oldsmobile pulled over right in front of me. Forced to slam on my brakes, I screamed and yelled at the driver, SOB style. How stupid and inconsiderate he was! When I pulled up next to the Oldsmobile, ready to share a few more choice words, I saw a little old lady at the wheel, doing the best she could. Stunned and mortified by the strength of my feelings and inappropriate thoughts and actions, I pulled over to the side of the road and pondered … where had all that anger come from? At the time I was unable to connect my poor response to the stored hurt and anger of events like I experienced with Sweet Old Bob or to similar but deeper wounds in relation to my father, both of whom I later forgave.

If I had chosen to forgive the driver of the other car as soon as I recognized an affront, I could have avoided the anger and rage. The woman driving that old car had not intended to ruin my day. She probably had no idea she was pulling in front of a speeding automobile. But my perceived hurt tempted me to blame and judge, and that’s what I did.

We all have many opportunities each day to forgive others. They may be our spouses or children, the rude driver on the way to work, the insensitive coworker, or even someone from a resurrected memory of a childhood wound. The person who wronged us can even be someone who has since died, yet our pain is still there. Because forgiving has more to do with changing our own hearts than addressing someone else’s, we can forgive those who have died in the same way we forgive anyone living. We can speak specifically of the wound or the blame in our hearts and make the decision to forgive, freeing us from the continued sin of judgment.

What about intentional wounds? Forgiving others who have sinned against us doesn’t free them from accountability for their actions. Instead, it allows us to see them clearly, without judgment and condemnation.

No matter the origin, we are frequently confronted with the challenge of forgiving those who have wounded us. Even when others’ actions are innocent, we need to forgive them for the wrongs we perceive. I had to forgive that little old lady in the Oldsmobile, not because she did anything terrible or because she deliberately tried to hurt me, but because I felt hurt—wounded by her actions. Without forgiving her, I would continue to store up bitterness and judgment in my heart.

We must forgive ourselves.

The idea of forgiving ourselves creates a good deal of discomfort in many of us. It can seem arrogant and self-serving to think about choosing to let ourselves off the hook, especially when what we’ve done was truly wrong or sinful. Better to exact some sort of payback or punishment as a substitute for repentance for our wrongful deeds. As a way of “atoning” for our sin, we can take revenge upon ourselves. Because we “deserve it,” we think we can judge ourselves without consequence. “I’m harder on myself than I am on others” becomes the accepted rationale. It’s as if we believe we can balance out the sin in our lives by condemning ourselves. The trouble is, this condemnation also gives us false permission to judge others. First Corinthians 6:19–20 says, “You are not your own; you are bought with a price.” If you believe you have a right to judge yourself, you are denying this truth. No matter what your mind professes, your heart is saying that you are, indeed, your own. What is in your heart will make its way into the way you treat others. It is no wonder those who judge themselves invariably judge others as well, even though they may not be aware of it. The only balance for sin in our lives is what Jesus did on the cross, not some kind of payment we offer through our own self-condemnation.

When Scripture tells us to “judge not,” it’s not saying, “Don’t judge some people.” It’s saying, “Don’t judge any person under any circumstances.” When we judge, we fill our hearts with blame and condemnation, creating fertile ground for bitterness and resentment. Scripture has many uses for the Greek word krino, “to judge.” It is sometimes used to mean “to decide,” sometimes “to consider or evaluate,” more often to mean “to condemn or blame.”

There is no biblical excuse for exacting degrees of judgment. At times we choose to judge ourselves just a little, calling ourselves names like “jerk” or “stupid.” We believe a little self-condemnation is humility and that it will endear us to others (or even to God). We conclude that reducing ourselves somehow reduces the bad thing we have done. But unless there is true repentance—the decision to change our ways—self-effacing and self-condemnation will only add more judgment to our hearts, judgment we will eventually have to deal with.

Do not judge or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.

—Matthew 7:1, 2

God wants us to love ourselves as well as others. He tells us we are wonderful (Psalm 139:14). As we choose to believe that God sees us as being filled with His holiness and love, we will condemn ourselves less.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. —Psalm 139:14

God chose us in him before the world began, to be holy and blameless in his sight, to be full of love. —Ephesians 1:4, NAB

Yes, we are capable of doing great wrong, and we are to be accountable for our actions but without judgment or blame. When God sent His Son, Jesus, He washed us clean; He paid for our sin. If God can do this, we should at least be able to forgive ourselves.

Catherine Doherty states:

Now is the time to forgive. Begin with oneself, for one must always begin with oneself to forgive oneself, for the Christians on the North American continent are guilt-ridden, and because of it often attack the ones before whom we are most guilty, in order to rationalize ourselves out of the dead end street to which we have come.[8]

The Lord said, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” That means we must love ourselves first, for we are, in a manner of speaking, our closest neighbor.

In order to love, one must forgive. For one cannot love the object of his hostility, his anger, his hatred, and his unforgiveness. Yes, we must begin with forgiving ourselves as our Father in heaven forgives us.

Note: Just as forgiving others doesn’t release them from accountability for their actions, so forgiving ourselves doesn’t free us from accountability. Instead, it allows us to see ourselves and our actions clearly, without judgment and condemnation, so as to be able to address our shortcomings effectively.

We may need to “forgive” God.

How can we forgive God when He is perfect? He is without sin, unable to do us harm, so surely there is no need to forgive Him. This line of thinking only helps us to avoid dealing with the issue of how we hold judgment in our hearts even for God. For in truth, we do blame God for all sorts of things, small and great. We have complained about so much in our lifetime. We may blame God for how He created us and where we were born. We are disappointed in the way we look, we are dissatisfied with our income, we complain about our relationships, we even show our frustration with the weather! Often these protests are our way of showing our spiritual rebellion, calling God to task for our “misfortunes.” We blame God for those things we are not able to control, and the more we believe in God, the more we hold Him responsible for just about everything.

It’s important to emphasize that when we make the decision to “forgive” God, we are not establishing that God has sinned or even caused something painful to occur. We are admitting that we have allowed judgment or bitterness into our hearts for Him and are now ready to forgive and be healed.

Carla came for a week of intense counseling after the tragic death of her eighteen-year-old son, Josh, in a wintertime car accident. As she described the events leading up to and surrounding the accident, Carla repeatedly expressed her dismay that God would allow such a thing. Her son was a good boy, and he loved the Lord. How could God take him this way? She described the dark, snowy evening on an icy country road. Her son had attended a basketball game and was on his way home. The police report indicated that his car “failed to negotiate a hairpin turn.”

Why didn’t God stop him from driving so fast? Why didn’t God protect Josh? These are the questions of a heartsick, grieving mother trying to understand the loss of her son.

This was not the moment for me to answer these questions. It was not the time to describe the laws of inertia, speed, and friction that dictated Josh’s car leaving the roadway and hitting a tree. It was not the time to explain God’s laws, especially those governing the physical world. Carla’s pain was so intense that the only place she could go was to blame God, allowing the bitterness to grow. Eventually, Carla would understand and accept the reality of the circumstances of the loss of her son and that God was indeed innocent. But for now she simply needed to be heard and comforted. At some point during our counseling, I would encourage her to “forgive” God, helping her give up the judgments she had formed and the blame she had laid at His feet. Carla would learn to forgive out of sacrifice and faith, not necessarily out of understanding why her son died.

When a child dies, our minds and hearts find this extremely difficult to accept. We must have a reason to explain our pain. Seldom do we hold a deceased loved one accountable for his or her own death. Having no immediate rationale for our unbearable pain, we may blame ourselves, our spouses, or a caregiver. It is also possible that we will blame God. We may ask, “How could God have done this? How could God have allowed the loss of this dear innocent one?” Carla’s judgment of God for her son’s death is an example in an extreme situation. Yet we are often tempted to blame God for many of the hurts and wounds of daily life as well.

Holding God accountable for our losses and pain becomes a breeding ground for judgment and resentment. The motivation for not forgiving is not just that someone has hurt or wounded us, but that we perceive or believe that someone should be accountable. Our belief that there has been an injustice only increases the pain, and thus our blame. If we believe God is directly or even superficially responsible, we may blame Him. Ironically, the deeper our relationship with the Lord, the greater the wound.

I was asked recently if I ever got angry at God. My immediate response was to say no. My answer was based on my recognition that when hurt or wounded, I usually blamed someone else. Later on, as I thought about it, I realized there was a time when I got very angry at God.

I spent a good portion of my early years in conflict with my father. Tension grew steadily between us as a result of arguing and sometimes physical altercations. I deemed the wounds as inexcusable and chose to hate him for them. I left home at seventeen to attend college in Texas and figured the farther I got from Dad the better. During this time my mother remained a strong advocate for me. After arguments with Dad, Mom and I would talk, and she was often on my side. She would commiserate with me and sometimes even be critical of Dad. This seemed very comforting, and I often found refuge in her words. Little did I know that what seemed so valuable at the time was skewing my perspective of the relationship between a man and a woman in marriage. Unaware of the negative aspect of this dynamic, I idolized my mother. She was the only one I could talk to.

Years later, after a failed marriage, I received a call from my sister, telling me Mom was in the hospital. She said the doctor told her it wasn’t too serious, but she thought I should know. I traveled home to visit her anyway. Seven days later my mother died of complications from Guillaine-Barre syndrome. I was devastated. I didn’t recognize the extent of my hurt and loss until my mother’s funeral. That’s when I realized how angry I was at God. I complained to Him, “You took the wrong one.” I would have gladly substituted my father for my mother. I was furious.

Over the next months and years, I didn’t address the bitterness in my heart. I just “got on with my life,” allowing the events of everyday life to eventually suppress my feelings of loss and anger at God.  It wasn’t until several years later, after a new commitment to the Lord and some wise counsel, that I believed the Lord was telling me to love my father. I actually thought at the time, What a novel idea, loving my father! I did want to be obedient, so I called my father and told him I loved him. I didn’t mean it, but I had to start somewhere. From that point forward, my heart started to change. As I was able to consistently and repeatedly forgive my father, and forgive God for His “mistake,” I found my heart being healed of decades of hurts, wounds, and anger.

Dad died in 2000 after several small strokes and then a large one that took his life. I miss my father and was blessed with several years before his death of not only choosing to love my dad, but feeling love for him as well. I recognize that Mom dying before my father gave me the opportunity to learn to love him before his death. God knew that given a choice, I would always choose my mother, thereby never really getting to know and love my father. I also believe the Lord in His wisdom wanted me to be healed in relation to my dad before I became a father. With this in His mind, Deborah and I were blessed with the birth of our son, Jonathan, whom we adopted. Dad called him “the little guy.”

We’ve got the why and the who. Now we will look at the when.

Chapter 4

When Should We Forgive?

Over many years of counseling, I’ve discovered that when people are asked what they are feeling, most of them are speechless. It’s not that we don’t experience a wide range of emotions, but most of us haven’t been taught how to identify and express them.

Distinguishing between our thoughts and our feelings can be troublesome. When asked what we are feeling, most of us respond by sharing a thought or attitude. Thoughts and attitudes are formed from cognitive brain processes, while feelings are emotional, affective, sensory-based experiences. If I ask how you feel this morning and you respond by saying, “I feel that I’m going to be doing better by the end of the day,” you haven’t shared any of the feelings you are experiencing; instead, you’ve shared an idea about how you believe your day will go. This might be important information, but I still don’t know how you feel; you haven’t risked to expose your emotional condition. A more accurate response might be, “I’m feeling sick to my stomach and I’m bummed out, but I’m hoping I’ll feel better by the end of the day.” Now I know how you are feeling physically and emotionally, and I have some insight into what is in your heart. When Jesus said in Gethsemane that His heart was filled with sorrow and distress, He was sharing intimately with the disciples, making Himself known to them. We are to be like Jesus.

But even in situations where it is not wise to share our deepest feelings with others, it is crucial that we are at least honest with ourselves. For the sake of forgiving, we must learn to identify how and what we feel at any given time.

This takes practice, and it can be helpful to begin by following a simple guideline. Whenever someone asks how or what you are feeling, instead of saying, “Fine, and how are you?” respond with one true feeling word. You might say that you are sad, or joyous, or nervous. This process ensures that we will share more of ourselves along with our ideas, even if it matters only to us. When we express what we feel, we are learning to better clarify the messages identifying hurts and wounds. This leads us to forgiving.

It’s never too late.

Craig walked into my office, introduced himself, and then promptly informed me I was not to tell him he hated his father. I agreed, then scribbled a short note to remind myself of his comment.

Craig was an anguished, wounded man without the ability to express much of what was in his heart. He did tell me of his concern for his son and daughter and his inability to relate to them, but he shared this with no sign of emotion. Even when he told me he was angry, he just reported the facts. But I could sense immense turmoil in his spirit and deep wounding in his heart.

Over many weeks, Craig shared his history with me. His father was a pastor and a very busy man. He spent a lot of time ministering to his congregation and too little time with Craig. When I asked him how he felt about that, Craig responded that his father was well liked and offered a great service to the community. Craig continued to maintain his composure and rationalize his father’s absence. When we talked about forgiving, Craig seemed clearly aware of the price Jesus paid for him on the cross and was able to accept that he was forgiven. But when it came to the idea of forgiving his father for not being there, he pushed away any recognition of wounding. Dad was a pastor and a good man!

Our counseling went into the winter months, and on one snowy day Craig asked if we could have an extra appointment. The session went as usual: he wanted help but refused to risk to share his heart. When our time was up we prayed, and Craig left my office. I listened to him walk down the stairs and push open the large door leading to the parking lot. Suddenly there was a loud thud, followed by lots of yelling and swearing. Craig soon burst into my office again, slamming the door against the bookcase, berating the idiot who didn’t scrape the ice off the stairs and wondering what in the world was wrong with him! I praised God silently as Craig ranted and raved. Finally we could talk about the enormous rage in his heart and how it took some icy stairs to bring it out! It was as if a festering sore had been lanced and the poison released. Each session after that invariably included a rant about something. Craig was learning to express the pain in his heart.

One day he shared with me an event he said he had forgotten.

As a young teen he had worked with a roofing company for the summer. Craig was proud of his new skills and hoping to show them off to his father, who had promised him he would stop and visit the worksite that morning. It was a hot, sunny day, and Craig waited anxiously. He had asked the foreman to put him up on the roof so his dad could see him doing the real work of a roofer. After too many hours laboring in the hot sun, he got sunstroke and had to be sent home. His father never showed up. As Craig shared this experience, his eyes welled up with tears, and then almost as quickly, his face filled with rage. Words of condemnation and bitterness spilled out of his mouth, and the honest truth came out: “I hate my father!”

Noting the pleased expression on my face, Craig asked, “Are you happy now?” We both grinned, knowing that we could now move on from anger to his deeply rooted hurts and wounds. He could appropriately express pain, then truly forgive and heal. Craig shared a few weeks later that he was enjoying a more vibrant relationship with his children. He was able to enter into their world and invite them into his without judgment of his father getting in the way. His heart was no longer shut down from trying to suppress his anger.

Like Craig, many of us are not willing or able to accept that we have been hurt until faced with the strength of our own anger. The decision to forgive, if we are going to forgive at all, will usually only be made after we have recognized judgment or resentment in our hearts. In most situations, the damage has already begun, as hidden resentments and judgments are already starting to impact our lives. Hebrews 12:15 tells us that when a “bitter root” springs forth in our lives, we hurt ourselves and defile those around us (in Craig’s case, by preventing him from relating to his children). It’s not that it’s ever too late to forgive, but the sin of judgment starts immediately to work its damages. One of our goals in learning to forgive is to do so before unforgiveness leads to sin, not after—to choose to forgive when we recognize the hurts and wounds that precede a judgment, not waiting till the wounds have festered into resentment and bitterness.

Imagine that you are walking in a park by yourself. No one else is around. It’s an absolutely beautiful day. The air is sweet and you have a strong sense of well-being. You feel great! Life is good, and for that moment your world is in order.

It’s a warm day, and you are dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. You slip off your shoes to feel the cool grass on your feet. You reach the peak of a rolling hill and on impulse run down it like a child at play. As you are enjoying the experience, you don’t notice a large brick. You accidentally kick it, and blood shoots out of your foot. Pain streaks up your leg. Your big toe is broken!

What is your first response? What are you thinking? What are you feeling? When I ask these questions in a counseling session, most people initially blurt out statements of anger and judgment. Only after some time has passed and I ask again will they share some description of pain, often followed by one of three comments. Either they speak of their own stupidity for not seeing the brick, or they question who the idiot was who left the brick there, or they wonder how God could let this happen.

This story reveals a dynamic we all experience daily. When our pain is sufficient enough, we will blame, judge, and condemn ourselves, others, or God.

When we feel our pain, we can begin to forgive.

We live in a culture that teaches us that most pain is to be avoided at all cost. Yet we are designed in such a way that messages of pain warn us not only when our bodies are injured, but when our hearts are wounded as well. As we yield to the culture and ignore or cover up our feelings, we stifle one of the most valuable characteristics of our creation, that of our connection to Jesus in Gethsemane and on the cross.

During my twelve years as a pilot in the US Air Force, I had the opportunity to fly a variety of aircraft. The plane I enjoyed most was the B-52G, a 508-thousand-pound bomber capable of being armed with nuclear weapons and primarily used as a deterrent—a warning to other super powers. We were trained well to fly these large aircraft, especially in times of emergency. Part of my task as an aircraft commander was to take care of any problem that might arise procedurally with the mission or mechanically with the aircraft during flight.

Right in the middle of the cockpit instruments—of which there were hundreds—sat the master caution light, the MCL. All the instruments were lit in white during the day but in red at night so as not to hinder our night vision, with the exception of the MCL, which was yellow day or night. Wired to every system on the aircraft, the MCL would show itself in bright yellow if anything went wrong. It really got our attention!

The MCL was a type of “pain warning system.” Since the plane couldn’t say, “Ouch,” or, “That really hurts,” the designers built the MCL system to get our attention when something was wrong.

Our own Creator did the same with us. He gave us a warning system to let us know when something is wrong. We call it pain. If someone stabs us in the arm with a pen, if we are asked what we feel, most of us would respond with a negative comment or judgment regarding our attacker. Yet our first feeling is pain, the perfect indicator that something is wrong. Some damage has been done: skin punctured, muscle torn, or bone chipped. We can experience all kinds of pain—physical, emotional, and even spiritual. God in His wisdom knew that we needed some type of warning system that would alert us when something was wrong. The Lord intended for us to acknowledge our feelings, good or bad, being thankful in all circumstances (1 Thessalonians 5:17, 18).

Pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

—1 Thessalonians 5:17, 18

Our conscience is a feature of our God-designed warning system. Many of us have a fully awakened conscience. We feel bad when we have sinned, but more important, we have a sense of caution or avoidance as we ponder our actions, determining whether or not to sin. If we choose to disregard or are unable to recognize the messages of our conscience—often experienced through feelings—we don’t see God’s “master caution light.”

Jesus shows us when to forgive.

Scripture teaches us a powerful lesson about feelings in Matthew’s account of Christ in Gethsemane. Jesus cries out, “My heart is filled with sorrow and distress. … My heart is nearly broken with sorrow”.

He took Peter and James and John with him and he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me.”

Going a little farther he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible may this cup be taken from me by. Yet, not as I will, but as you will.”

—Matthew 26:37–39

He uses these words to describe His terrible pain, words that help us understand and know Him better. How powerful those words are! Jesus used them to be intimate, to convey something about Himself to His Father and to the disciples. He didn’t avoid the pain; He shared fully what He was feeling and still did what His Father wanted Him to do.

Because many of us are debilitated by strong feelings, we choose not to share them as Jesus did. Instead, we suppress them, like Craig, thereby negating their value as messages. For this we pay the price, as those same strong feelings will always emerge sooner or later—unsolicited, out of proportion, and often inappropriate to the circumstances.

Others of us are better able to identify and share what we are feeling, but we allow our emotions to overwhelm us, and thus we can never move forward to the decisions or actions that may bring healing to our lives. Instead we dwell on ways we have been wronged by a friend or family member, or on painful relationships with ungrateful or unloving spouses. Our strong emotions are no longer the messages they are designed to be; instead, they control our behaviors. Showing us a better way, Jesus chose to express the pain in His heart. He fully expressed His feelings and still chose to obey His Father. When we risk sharing our pain and suffering as Jesus did, those feelings lose their power to tempt us to judge and blame. The painful messages of our heart become the antecedents to our choosing to forgive.

How often should we forgive?

Jesus made it quite clear. He said to forgive seventy times seven (Matthew 18:22), or 490 times! Of course, the number is not meant to be literal; Hebrews considered the number seven to symbolize fullness or completion.

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you not seven times, but seventy times seven.”

—Matthew 18:21–22

The Lord is telling us to forgive constantly, without limit—to forgive someone many times over, or to forgive as many people as have hurt us, and to do so as often as God forgives us. Sometimes forgiving just one time brings healing to our hearts. More often we need to forgive many times, especially if the wound is great, as healing takes its time to restore and repair our hearts.

And so the answer to the question of when should we forgive is simple. Now, as soon as possible, and always.

We now take all that we have learned and incorporate it into a simple prayer.

Prayer

As Christians we are given the miraculous gift of prayer, a way to share our deepest selves and to have relationship with God. Through prayer we can express our pain, confess our sins, and in love ask God’s help to forgive as we are commanded. The following chapters are organized around a “forgiving prayer,” the principles of which I have used for the last twenty-eight years in my own life as well as to support the thousands of persons to whom I have ministered in their work to forgive those who have trespassed against them. It is designed to be a part of your life. Many have chosen to memorize it, print it on their business cards, or attach it to the bathroom mirror, so it can be used daily. It is the source and the inspiration for this book.

Here is the prayer in its entirety. We will be examining a different portion of it in each of the following chapters.

Lord, I forgive __________

I give You permission to take the

judgment and bitterness out of my heart.

I do not want this in my life. I surrender

it to You and ask You to remove it—to

heal me where I have been wounded, to

forgive me where I have sinned. I choose

not to blame or hold the actions

of __________ against them. I hereby

surrender my right to be paid back for

my loss by the one who has sinned or

trespassed against me, and in so doing,

I declare my trust in God alone as the

righteous Judge.

Father God, bless them in every way.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

Section II

Chapter 5

How to Forgive Part 1:

Who to Forgive and For What

Lord, I forgive __________.

I give You permission to take the

judgment and bitterness out of my heart.

I do not want this in my life. I surrender

it to You and ask You to remove it—to

heal me where I have been wounded, to

forgive me where I have sinned. I choose

not to blame or hold the actions

of __________ against them. I hereby

surrender my right to be paid back for

my loss by the one who has sinned or

trespassed against me, and in so doing,

I declare my trust in God alone as the

righteous Judge.

Father God, bless them in every way.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

Lord I forgive____________.

Once we’ve decided to forgive, we need to know how. The first step in this prayer of forgiving is to decide whom we are going to forgive and for what injury or offense. It’s important to be specific.

At times, naming the who and the what of forgiving is simple and clear. Someone cuts in front of us on the interstate, or drives too slow in the fast lane, and we are tempted to get back at him even if it’s just by mumbling and grumbling in our hearts. We may feel frustrated and angry, but underneath lies our sense of being ignored, discounted, and treated unfairly. Recognizing what lies beneath our anger and resentment helps us choose to forgive more quickly, before any harmful judgment takes root in our hearts.

Wounding occurs daily. Eventually we come to accept the fact that the Lord put us in this world and that life is frequently difficult. As we begin to listen to the messages of our hearts—our feelings or emotions—we become more familiar with the dynamic of identifying our wounds and those who hurt us. We more easily remember times when we received similar wounds in the past and identify the bitter-root judgments we have formed in response. And this in turn helps us understand why the present circumstance produces so much more pain than the situation warrants. For instance, if we grew up in a family where we were constantly treated rudely, and we judged our family members for that, it makes sense we would overreact to being treated rudely in traffic. An old unhealed wound has been struck.

I ask the people I counsel to make two lists: one identifying the judgments in their hearts, and the other naming the hurts and wounds they have experienced. Typically, the second list is far longer than the first. This list of hurts can be a good indicator of whom to forgive and for what. Since hurts and wounds almost always precede anger and judgments, they are a deeper and more effective resource than mere mental assessments for determining who and what we have judged and need to forgive.

Another exercise I use routinely is to ask persons to whom I minister to write down ten to twelve negative feelings they experience over the next twenty-four hours, and then identify when they experienced similar feelings as children. The results are revealing, as the individual is made aware of how often he is wounded or hurt in a twenty-four-hour period, as well as how he has carried suppressed or forgotten wounds from childhood. Unhealed, these can remain with us in the form of roots of bitterness (sin). Once they are revealed, we can recognize and express more clearly and specifically the people we need to forgive, not only for present-day offenses, but for past ones as well. As we get better at identifying and labeling the messages of hurt and wounding in our hearts, and choosing to express these instead of anger and judgment, we can create a better relationship with God through forgiveness. Forgiving then becomes a way of life, with the opportunity to empty our reservoir of judgment and bitterness.

The Grievous Wounds

Forgiving grievous offenses challenges us in a variety of ways, but the decision is still the same. We should speak the person’s name, preferably out loud. Along with naming who hurt us, we should also speak of what they did. When the wounding has been great, as in the case of sexual and physical abuse, speaking the unspeakable can be extremely difficult. I have sat before many a person who struggled just to get the words out; at such times, we can always ask the Lord to help. Discussing forgiveness is much easier than accomplishing it, but it helps to remember that our task is in collaboration with God. He will do His part.

Forgiving each one of our hurts and wounds may seem like a never-ending process. Our desire might be to simply pray, “Lord, I forgive everyone who has ever hurt me for everything they have ever done.” We would prefer this tidy little package, rather than having to face the pain of specific hurts. But the Lord told His disciples to forgive seventy-times seven (Matthew 18:21, 22), meaning that we must forgive each time we are offended and sometimes forgive someone many times for the same offense. The more specific we are about whom to forgive and for what, the more effective our forgiving and healing will be. By speaking of them specifically, we get more in touch with the hurts, which helps us to understand the urgency to forgive. This in turn helps us see how the fruit of our bitter roots hurts others. We are then able to identify with the person who hurt us as we recognize our own judgments (we are like them) and choose to forgive as the Lord forgives us.

Dwayne was an angry young man. He sought counseling for his temper that was getting more destructive each day. Dwayne seemed angry at the world, and he focused that anger at everyone around him. When I asked him to be specific, he generalized and referred to “them” and how “they” were making life difficult. When asked what “they” did to hurt him, he would say, “I don’t know. They were stupid.” He was unable to share specifically what hurt him and what he was angry about.

After several sessions of “going to the foundations”—digging deeper and practicing sharing—he was able to identify more of the hurt and wounding he experienced as a boy. Although hesitant at first, Dwayne shared how angry he was at his parents for allowing his older brother to treat him abusively for much of his childhood. As he shared more he was able to recognize not only the wounding, but the way in which he was judging as well, prompting him to forgive his brother as well as his parents.

Making the decision to be specific may take some time. A primary reason we don’t forgive is that we don’t want to recall painful memories. We suppress these valuable messages, unaware that they may reappear to affect us greatly, negatively, and at the most inconvenient times. We have all reacted strongly or poorly and wondered where in the world our reactions came from. We may even claim that we didn’t mean to say what we said, yet it came from somewhere. There is no such thing as an unexpressed emotion. Even when we believe we have successfully suppressed a hurt or wound, it may eventually be revealed in the way we treat others, or sometimes through physical ailment or sickness.

Lord, I forgive____________.

Chapter 6

How to Forgive Part 2:

Letting Go

Lord, I forgive __________

I give You permission to take the

judgment and bitterness out of my heart.

I do not want this in my life. I surrender

it to You and ask You to remove it—to

heal me where I have been wounded, to

forgive me where I have sinned. I choose

not to blame or hold the actions

of __________ against them. I hereby

surrender my right to be paid back for

my loss by the one who has sinned or

trespassed against me, and in so doing,

I declare my trust in God alone as the

righteous Judge.

Father God, bless them in every way.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

I give You permission to take the judgment and bitterness out of my heart. I do not want this in my life. I surrender it to You and ask You to remove it.

Some find it difficult to comprehend the idea of giving God permission to do anything. They think it arrogant and presumptuous, treating God as a child who needs permission to go outside and play. To clarify, I will hold out a pen in my hand and offer it to someone, telling him, “Take this pen.” As they reach out to grab one end, I tighten my grasp on the other. The harder they try, the tighter my grip, even as I continue to tell them, “Take the pen.” This simple exercise illustrates a common approach to forgiveness. We tell God we want to forgive, and even ask for His help, all the while holding tightly to the resentment and bitterness in our hearts. We refuse to give Him permission. We might be saying the right thing, but our actions don’t correspond with our words.

Why do we hang on so tightly to judgments and bitterness? We want justice and balance, a way of making things even and fair. Ironically, we rarely find it necessary to seek balance in regard to the positive things that occur in our lives. Even though we may on occasion question our worthiness, we mostly just accept and enjoy any excess of good in our lives. If we win the lottery, we don’t go searching for why; if someone gives us a gift, or it’s a sunny day, we don’t look for deeply rooted reasons. Not so with painful negative circumstances. When we are judged by our friends, or when a loved one is killed in a car accident, we want answers. How could this have happened? Who is responsible? What have I done, or how did I cause these events? Unfortunately, our answers often come in the form of judgments and resentments, reactions that we believe bring balance. Blaming God, ourselves, or someone else fulfills that need. We can look at such reactions as the weights on an old-fashioned scale—the kind with two trays suspended below a horizontal bar. When something good happens, we see no reason to balance it. But when something painful occurs, we generally act in one of three ways to balance the wrong:

         We seek to do good, hoping to balance bad things with good things. At first this would seem to be an appropriate response, much like buying energy credits—we may use too much energy; we balance it by planting some trees. While this may help us feel better, it does nothing to prevent or alleviate the original misuse of energy. We hear of “killing someone with kindness,” believing that if we are kind to people who have hurt us they will change their ways. Being kind is certainly a loving thing to do, but it may cover up the wound and resultant judgment that needs to be acknowledged. When we sin, it may be appropriate to offer some kind of payment or restitution, but that isn’t enough. We must also repent, which means to change direction, as well as grieve in our hearts for our wrongdoings and any pain we’ve caused.

         We do nothing. Unfortunately, this occurs all too often. When we are wronged or something painful happens to us, we act like a deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car. It’s not hard to justify doing nothing; at least it’s not sinning. We will often rationalize our inactivity as “forgiving,” believing that if we do nothing, we are not judging and blaming, and that is forgiveness, isn’t it?

         We seek revenge, the most destructive action of all. Most of us don’t see ourselves as vengeful people. We leave the serious payback scenes to movie and book characters, all those get-even heroes we live vicariously through. Because we only fantasize about doing harm to people but don’t act on it, we see our judgments as acceptable, thinking, At least I didn’t shoot or stab them. But the revenge we take in the form of blame and judgment can be just as destructive as actual violence. This is the response I observe the most when I minister to people.

These three options are barriers to real healing. They keep us busy, avoiding God’s plan for our restoration from the world’s hurts. We miss out on the freedom and peace that result from forgiving.

Making Demands on God

Even if we manage to refrain from fruitless efforts to balance evil in the world, we will often respond to our pain by making demands on God. We want God to do a miracle, expecting Him to break through the walls of our hearts and rip the bitterness out. What He does instead is to respect our decision to hold on to our judgments. He patiently waits for us to give Him permission to take our resentments and bitterness, because giving God permission entails our willful decision to give up condemning and judging the one who has hurt us. It isn’t enough to just speak idle words without godly intent, expecting God to do His part. When we choose to forgive, we are inviting God in, opening the door freely rather than expecting Him to break it down.

But What of Our Judgments?

It’s not difficult for the flesh to justify judgment; we do it so frequently that we feel safe and even righteous. Mankind has so fully accepted this sinful reaction to being hurt that it has become an automatic response. Most of us don’t question the bitterness that grows in our hearts; as a matter of fact, we often see it as appropriate.

This dynamic of blame and judgment is formed very early. As children we are keenly aware of what is fair and what is not. If it hurts, it’s not fair; it’s that simple. We all remember disciplines we received as little ones: time-outs, spankings, having to eat our peas. As adults we may now recognize the value in such loving corrections, but back then, they all seemed unfair.

I seldom hear of parents who have taken the time to teach their children the value of discipline and accountability. Many of us are without a sense of accountability for our actions; thus, we choose behaviors without much thought for consequences or how others are affected. Instead, the focus is on our rights and doing what we want.

Family Patterns

We learned as children to model our responses after the people with whom we lived. We were affected by patterns of anger, bitterness, and unforgiveness that continue to visit or affect each successive generation.

Janey came to me for a counseling session. She had tried to get her husband to come with her, but she never really expected him to want to be a real part of their relationship. Janey grew up in a dysfunctional home. For years she witnessed her father and mother locked in mortal combat. She and her two sisters found that the best way to deal with the conflict was to be out of the home. Janey was an excellent student and participated in many school activities. When she began high school and started to date, her mother seemed to become more interested in her life. They had long, intimate conversations, and Janey liked the attention. After a while, her mother got so involved with her activities and social life that Janey wished she would be a little less interested. In addition, her mother shared details about her relationship with Janey’s father, often critically. He didn’t do this or that; he wasn’t interested; he made everything more important than her. Janey’s mother even blamed him for her pregnancy early in their marriage, still angry that she could not pursue her dreams. She warned Janey that when she married, her life would stop.

As Janey relayed all this to me, she began to recognize that to maintain a relationship with her mother she had to go along with her assessment of her father. She not only went along, but joined in and became even more critical. By the time she left home to attend college, she had a lot of bitterness in her heart toward him. But she also confessed to me that she had felt confused. At some point in her dating process, she chose to marry, admitting that she didn’t have a lot of feelings for her husband but knew he was a good man. When I asked Janey what she would like from the healing process, she paused, then said, “I don’t know,” and began to weep. She wanted a more intimate relationship with her husband; she wanted to feel more. All in all, she seemed more disappointed than critical—she knew something was missing between them.

When I asked Janey if she had forgiven her father, she indicated she wasn’t sure what to forgive him for, as most of what she remembered about him came from her mother. She could see, however, that she had carried many judgments of him into her marriage. A generational pattern had been imprinted on Janey’s heart many years ago and was now creating problems in her marriage. Choosing to give the Lord permission to take the judgment and bitterness out of her heart enabled Janey to get on with forgiving her mother, her father, and her husband, and released her to see her husband more realistically.

I am frequently asked, “Charlie, how will I know that I have given the Lord permission to take the judgment and bitterness out of my heart?” One of the first times I used this prayer many years ago, Deborah and I were doing yard work. I generally took care of the lawn and trees, and Deb took care of the garden and flowerbeds. I had just finished mowing and was enjoying the look of the lines in the grass that the mower had made. Each time I cut the grass I would alternate directions, and now the yard had a patchwork look. I loved it. Unaware and apparently unappreciative of my “work of art,” Deborah was raking the leaves out of the flowers beds onto the lawn! I thought, Doesn’t she recognize the work I’ve done and the time I’ve taken? I felt overlooked and then a bit indignant, and I allowed my hurt to turn to judgment. The ensuing argument made things worse, as neither of us was willing to see it differently. When I look back now it seems like such a minor infraction, but at the time it was hurtful. We fussed at each other for a few minutes and then I walked away. I didn’t want to stay angry. I had grown up in a home where there was often an atmosphere of anger, and I didn’t want to reproduce those painful times. I made the decision to forgive Deborah for her seeming indifference. I did not want to carry any judgment or bitterness in my heart.

This kind of decision is part of what makes it possible to forgive. If I just say the words and don’t mean them, my heart will not enter into collaboration with God.

Once I gave the Lord permission and invited Him in, He was free to enter and take the judgment out. I could actually feel the bitterness leave me. Instead of gripping it tighter, I was “releasing the pen”—giving it freely. Judgment and bitterness had blurred our ability to stand in the other’s shoes. But as my heart softened toward Deborah, I could see her perspective. From there we were able to work out a compromise: first putting a tarp down to preserve the newly mown lawn and then collecting the leaves.

Many offenses are far greater than leaves on a lawn, making wounds seem unbearable. Choosing to forgive may seem impossible, and we actually want to keep judgment and bitterness in our hearts. Our temptation is to believe that condemnations will balance out the wrong that we perceive. This is a lie. The only godly recourse we have to the terrible pain of the world’s sins is loving forgiveness and the acceptance of the price Jesus paid on the cross for all sin.

When we choose to forgive, we are reaching out to God, giving Him permission to take the judgment and bitterness out of our hearts. Only then can we put our childish ways into the Lord’s hands and choose, not the automatic response of judgment, but the freedom to make the godly response of expressing our wounding without judgment or blame, just as Jesus did in Gethsemane.

I give You permission to take the judgment and bitterness out of my heart. I do not want this in my life. I surrender it to You and ask You to remove it.

Chapter 7

How to Forgive Part 3:

Healing the Wounds

Lord, I forgive __________

I give You permission to take the

judgment and bitterness out of my heart.

I do not want this in my life. I surrender

it to You and ask You to remove it—to

heal me where I have been wounded, to

forgive me where I have sinned. I choose

not to blame or hold the actions

of __________ against them. I hereby

surrender my right to be paid back for

my loss by the one who has sinned or

trespassed against me, and in so doing,

I declare my trust in God alone as the

righteous Judge.

Father God, bless them in every way.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

Heal me where I have been wounded.

As we forgive those who trespass against us, we are giving God permission to take judgment, resentment, and bitterness out of our hearts, and we find room for compassion and understanding. But what about the original wound from the offense? Does it go away?

Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restoremy life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up.

—Psalm 71:20

Imagine that your three-year-old daughter is running toward you carrying a knife from the kitchen. It is shiny and new, and she is excited to share her find with you. As she approaches you she trips and puts out her hands to catch herself. As she extends her arms, the knife falls and slices into your leg, severing your Achilles tendon. The pain is terrible, and you bleed profusely. You see her look of embarrassment and surprise, and even as you recognize your own wound you begin the process of forgiving her. Later, as you take stock of the whole event, you truly believe you hold no bitterness or resentment in your heart. However, you still have a severed Achilles tendon, a reality you are reminded of every time you try to stand up or walk. The injury is significant and the consequences are great.

Just as we pray for healing of physical injuries, we are able to pray for the healing of our hearts. The unkind word or the injustice we endure can cause as devastating a wound as any physical injury. As children we chanted, “Sticks and stones can break my bones, but names will never hurt me.” But maturity and hard experience have taught us that sometimes words really are as destructive as sticks and stones. Haven’t we all recoiled from harsh criticism or mean, biting words? We must reach out to the Lord in prayer and ask Him to not only take our judgments as we release them but heal our wounds as well in order to be restored.

And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.

—1 Peter 5:10

Will God heal our hurts and wounds immediately? Simple laws of nature dictate that time is required for physical healing; the same is true for healing of the heart. Sometimes God chooses to miraculously heal us, but in most cases the grief that comes from the loss of a loved one, the pain of a failing relationship, or the sadness of a missed opportunity may require time, as the Lord recognizes and honors the limits of our humanity. But make no mistake; the old adage that time heals is not true. It is God who heals our hearts; He just works over time to accomplish it.

If you return to the Almighty, you will be restored: if you remove wickedness far from your tent
—Job 22:23

He prays to God and finds favor with him, he sees God's face and shouts for joy; he is restored by God to His righteous state. —Job 33:26

He restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

—Psalm 23:3

Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.

—Psalm 51:12

“I discovered—contrary to popular sentimentality—that time does not heal wounds, but can at best only help to ignore them so they become infected—and indeed, contagious as we displace them onto others closest to us. Rather, Jesus heals wounds, as we place them humbly and deliberately before him.”[9]

When pain lingers on, that doesn’t mean God hasn’t heard our prayer. Sometimes wounds are so hurtful and our judgments so severe that an extended time of healing is our best reminder to continue to forgive until all judgment and bitterness is gone.

The apostle Paul struggled with what he referred to in 2 Corinthians 12:7 as “a thorn in my flesh,” some kind of ever-present difficulty to keep him humble.

We all have thorns, and they may be painful reminders for us to turn to Him in troubled times. The Lord wants more than anything that our hearts be reconciled to Him, and if it takes painful wounding, we know that His grace will be enough.

To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, my power is made perfect in weakness.”

—2 Corinthians 12:7–9

In the meantime, our desire to be free of pain can become an obsession that leads to a variety of behaviors without concern for the consequences. But pain is our message that says something needs to be fixed. If we get rid of the message before we are fully aware of what is wrong, we have circumvented God’s design. Turning to false refuges of drugs, alcohol, food, or sex, we self-medicate to eliminate the message instead of finding out what it is telling us. Because we are treating symptoms instead of root causes, we are never fully healed, and we continue confronting the same issues again and again. False refuges become problems in themselves. I know very few people whose families haven’t been affected negatively by drugs or alcohol, and I see an increasing number of  people  struggling with sexual and food addictions. Simply put, we need to let ourselves feel as bad as we feel, to waken us to the messages of our heart. Only when the message is received will we be healed (Malachi 4:2).

But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings. And you will go out and leap like calves released from the stall.

—Malachi 4:2

Our healing doesn’t come when we alleviate pain; it comes when we recognize what separates us from a more complete relationship with God, as we allow our pain to be the guide that leads us to the underlying causes of our dysfunction and invite the Lord in to heal as we forgive.

Heal me where I have been wounded.

Chapter 8

How to Forgive Part 4:

Forgive Me-Confession

Lord, I forgive __________

I give You permission to take the

judgment and bitterness out of my heart.

I do not want this in my life. I surrender

it to You and ask You to remove it—to

heal me where I have been wounded, to

forgive me where I have sinned. I choose

not to blame or hold the actions

of __________ against them. I hereby

surrender my right to be paid back for

my loss by the one who has sinned or

trespassed against me, and in so doing,

I declare my trust in God alone as the

righteous Judge.

Father God, bless them in every way.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

Forgive me where I have sinned.

Here we are, in the middle of a prayer to forgive others, asking God to forgive us. For what?

I confessmy iniquity; I am troubled by my sin.
–Psalm 38:18

He who conceals his sins does not prosper, but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy.
–Proverbs 28:13

With few exceptions, most of us respond to wounds with sinful thoughts and actions. Most painful and difficult experiences occur in the context of those widely diverse and dynamic relationships central to our lives. The difficult ones are filled with interactions that not only include sinful actions on the part of others, but sinful acts on our part as well. He yells, she condemns; she judges, he blames. As we ask God to take judgments and bitterness out of our hearts, we must also be accountable for any sin that we have brought to the relationship. Not only do we need to repent for judgment and blame, but in some situations it is necessary to examine ways in which our words and actions have tempted the other to sin against us. We are never accountable for someone else’s sin, but we are accountable for ours. What words did we use, and how did we express them? Were we harsh or mean? What was the attitude in our heart? All of these questions may reveal the sin in us that made the relationship more difficult for the other person.

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.

—1 John 1:9

Rudy came for counseling because his marriage was floundering, his business was failing, and his anger was increasing. He grew up in the projects in south Chicago. He never knew his father, barely knew his mom, and saw his brother gunned down by a street gang when he was ten. Against impossible odds Rudy graduated from high school, joined the service, and eventually qualified for a program that offered him a college education. After the military and college, he married and had four children. In counseling, his wife reported that he had been harsh and abusive to the children and about once a month was physically abusive to her. She was feeling helpless.

When confronted, Rudy chose an old and worn-out pattern of denial: “At least I don’t abuse my wife as much as some do; you ought to be glad.” His horrendous childhood had become his frame of reference. If he didn’t treat people as horribly as he had been treated, he was on the right path. Anything he did was going to be better than what he had experienced.

Rudy wanted to be valued for the huge leap he had made, escaping the projects, getting an education, and succeeding in the world, but he was blind to the damage he caused his wife and children. It took some time, but eventually Rudy was able to identify not only the anger in his heart but the extreme sense of pain and helplessness he experienced as a child. He had not been able to get his mother and siblings out of their difficult situation, and more distressing, he couldn’t save his brother’s life.

As he expressed the futility of his childhood, Rudy’s heart gently moved from anger into grief. He was crushed to realize he was inflicting similar wounds upon his wife and children. Rudy eventually chose a godlier model on which to pattern his life. He prayed that the Lord would forgive him for the abuse, his arrogance about his accomplishments, and the judgment and unforgiveness in his heart.

When we choose to confess our sins and ask God to forgive us, we identify with Christ. Christ’s Passion reminds us that Jesus became our sin. The spotless Lamb became defiled and humbled himself for our sake, for our freedom, and for our lives. As we forgive those who have sinned against us, as well as ask God to forgive us for our part of the conflict, we choose humility over self-righteousness. We choose Christ.

Making the decision to confess is difficult. But James 5:16 tells us to confess our sins to one another and pray together in order to be healed.

Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.

—James 5:16

Most of us want to be healed, and one of the paths to healing is confession. The early church understood this and encouraged people to confess their sins publicly, usually during a service in front of the faithful. As churches grew, the practice of public confession fell on an increasingly immature congregation. In order to guard against gossip and condemnation by some, confessing sin was eventually relegated to a private session with a priest, who heard confessions on behalf of the entire church. This practice was not ineffective—it still reflected the scriptural directive, but it became protective and secretive. Unfortunately, many present-day churches offer little formal opportunity for confession. Even where it is offered, it is infrequently used. Many Christians claim to confess their sins, but only to God in prayer. That would seem to be enough, yet it isn’t what the Bible tells us to do.

A primary reason we don’t confess our sins to others is embarrassment. How difficult it is to share all those thoughts and behaviors we know violate either God’s or man’s law. We become overly concerned about how people will perceive us. It is a basic human need to be seen and heard and God created us to reflect this intention for our lives. To accomplish this we often we put our best foot forward to create an “acceptable,” but often inaccurate, image of ourselves.

When asked, “Who are you?” most of us don’t have an answer. I ask this question frequently in counseling; the responses tend to be more about what people do than who they are.

Scripture profoundly teaches us who we are. As Paul addressed the faithful in Ephesus, he told them how God sees believers: as holy and blameless in His sight, full of love.

When God looks at us, He sees us as the persons He created, not as products of what the world has done to us or of how we have reacted to life. Nothing can change what God created, and it is this identity God wants us to relate to. God’s plan is that we represent Him, being holy and blameless and full of love. This is who we are!

For he chose us in him before the creation of the universe to be holy and blameless in his sight, to be full of love.

—Ephesians 1: 4, NAB

Knowing and believing who we are is difficult. Throughout our lives, and through the influence of generations before us, we are expected to look at ourselves through the lens of performance. We define ourselves as what we do and by how that looks in the eyes of others. When we view the words of Paul as a portrait of how God sees us, we can depend on who He has created us to be even when we don’t feel like that person.

As mentioned earlier, God created us to be seen and heard. In childhood, we went to great lengths to get our parents’ attention in order to share with them something we had created or accomplished. We literally jumped up and down, and waved our arms to be seen and heard. As adults we still act in ways designed to draw attention. We use clothing and jewelry to distinguish ourselves, and pierce our bodies with all manner of adornment. To make even stronger statements, we brag and boast, all in order to create an image or identity that will get us seen and heard. These expressions can be wonderful, creative outlets of a fully aware person. Unfortunately, they can also be attempts to cover what we believe to be our un-wonderful selves.

I’ve tried so hard to be what I ought to be, I’ve forgotten who I am.

The truth of our God-created being never changes, yet we often choose to ignore it. So finding identity in what we do becomes a convenient substitute. But what happens when we perform poorly, fail at our undertakings, or disappoint those around us? Our sense of who we are crumbles under the weight of expectations that can’t be achieved. We are left with striving and anguish instead of the peace of knowing who we are in God’s sight.

When I was in the fifth grade, I loved show-and-tell. When it was finally my turn, I had fifteen minutes to talk about anything I wanted, or to share a favorite toy or accomplishment. I loved standing in front of the class and reading jokes from the back of Boy’s Life magazine. I thought them so funny that as I read I laughed uncontrollably. After a while the whole class was laughing at my laughing! I loved the attention. Show-and-tell helped form my perception of identity. I knew that when I got up to read jokes I was going to be seen and heard. What I didn’t know was that my ability to entertain the class was not who I was, but only something I was able to do. If you had asked me who I was, I might have said I was Charlie, the good joke reader.

When I was in the air force pilot training, if asked who I was, I might have said Charlie, the pilot. Even now, I’m tempted to answer with Charlie, the teacher and counselor. We see this behavior in dating, in applying for a job, and in our workplace, essentially putting that best foot forward, even if it’s not the truth. Sometimes we depend so heavily on our presentation of what we do to show people who we believe we are, we are tempted to exaggerate or even lie to continue the deception. Suddenly the best foot forward is not even our foot! When we ignore the portrait provided in Scripture, we paint our own, and sometimes the colors and lines we use are pure fiction.

When God says we are holy and blameless and full of love in His sight, He is describing who He created us to be. Because of our own wrongdoings, we generally find these words confusing. How can I be holy and blameless and full of love if I do these wrong things? Doesn’t God see my sin? Of course He does, but He stills sees our true selves, even when our actions fall short of perfection. He also sees the sacrifice that His Son, Jesus, made on the cross for us. We are washed clean.

The Lord wants us not only to know who He created us to be, but to believe it. When we decide to accept God’s truth about who we are, we can begin to change our behavior. Instead of struggling to create an image for ourselves, we can behave in ways that reflect who we really are.

Understanding and accepting these truths makes us more able to confess our sins. Embarrassment about our tarnished image of self is no longer so debilitating, and we can choose to shed the cloak of denial and self-loathing to reveal who God really made us to be: holy and blameless, full of love.

Forgive me where I have sinned.

Chapter 9

How to Forgive Part 5:

Trusting God

Lord, I forgive __________

I give You permission to take the

judgment and bitterness out of my heart.

I do not want this in my life. I surrender

it to You and ask You to remove it—to

heal me where I have been wounded, to

forgive me where I have sinned. I choose

not to blame or hold the actions

of __________ against them. I hereby

surrender my right to be paid back for

my loss by the one who has sinned or

trespassed against me, and in so doing,

I declare my trust in God alone as the

righteous Judge.

Father God, bless them in every way.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

I choose not to blame or hold the actions of __________ against them. I hereby surrender my right to be paid back for my loss by the one who has sinned or trespassed against me, and in so doing, I declare my trust in God alone as the righteous Judge.

Before discussing this section of the prayer, it can be helpful to read some of the many Bible passages giving God sole authority in the matter of judgment.

"Do not judge, or you too will be judged.” —Matthew 7:1

“For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.” —Matthew 7:2

"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 6:37

“Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD.” —Leviticus 19:18

At this point in our prayer, we have identified who and what we want to forgive. We have asked God to take judgments and bitterness out of our hearts and to heal our wounds, and we have asked to be forgiven. Now we must make a willing choice to stop holding the actions of the ones who have hurt us against them. As long as we hold on to the belief that we are owed something, we block the Lord from our lives.

Hebrews 12:15 warns us. “Let no bitter root spring forth hurting you and defiling those around you.” These words affirm our responsibility to surrender our right to revenge and allow Him to pull our bitterness out by its roots.

But if there is serious injury, you are to take life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise.

—Exodus 21:23

We often interpret Exodus 21:23 and others like it as biblical justification for revenge. But this Scripture is about parity, not revenge. The idea is that if somebody steals your coat, you have a right only to have your coat returned to you, and no right to additional compensation. Moses, who wrote this Scripture, was reflecting God’s response to inappropriate payback. In the culture of the day, if someone stole an item worth only a few cents, he might have had his right hand cut off, a punishment far exceeding the crime.

Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay," says the Lord.— Romans 12:19

May the LORD be our judge and decide between us. May he consider my cause and uphold it; may he vindicate me by delivering me from your hand. —1 Samuel 24:15

Then the trees of the forest will sing, they will sing for joy before the LORD, for he comes to judge the earth. —1 Chronicles 16:33

He will judge the world in righteousness; he will govern the peoples with justice. —Psalm 9:8

For the LORD is our judge, the LORD is our lawgiver, the LORD is our king; it is he who will save us. —Isaiah 33:22

I will save my flock, and they will no longer be plundered. I will judge between one sheep and another.—Ezekiel 34:22

But they will have to give account to him who is ready to judge the living and the dead.

—1 Peter 4:5

In the New Testament, Jesus tells us He has an even better way for us to live. “You have heard that it was said, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I tell you, ‘Do not resist an evil person. If someone strikes you on the right cheek, offer the other cheek also’” (Matt 5:38–39). Not only do we give up our claim to fair compensation, but we give up our right for any payback at all. Even more, He tells us that if someone demands our coat, we are to offer our shirt as well.

Bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone strikes you on one cheek, turn to him the other also. If someone takes your cloak, do not stop him from taking your tunic.

—Luke 6:28–29

Jesus’ perspective was radical in His time, as Jewish law made it clear that victims were due something in return for their loss. Now, as then, we find it difficult to ignore another’s wrongs. If we believe we are due something—anything—in return for our wounding, we will eventually demand it, building judgment in our hearts. When we choose to forgive, we acknowledge that the debt has been paid by Christ’s death on the cross.

When people wonder why their lives are not going well, they don’t realize that to the degree that we hang on to our roots of bitterness, judgments, and demands for payback, we block out God and the life He has for us. Many judgments are in relation to parents, and Scripture reminds us that if we don’t honor our fathers and mothers, our lives will not go well (Exodus 20:12; Deuteronomy 5:16; Ephesians 6:2).

Remember Craig, the engineer who had suppressed and denied strong feelings of anger toward his pastor father? When he was able to express that rage, he revealed areas of wounding that for many years had tempted him toward judgment and blame. At first, Craig didn’t understand what was happening to him. He didn’t know that all the bitterness he was storing in his heart was blocking him from relating to his children. He loved his children but was unable to go into their worlds. On occasion his four-year-old daughter would invite him to play tea party with her. At first he was able to go through the motions, but soon he found himself impatient, feeling childish and foolish at play.

Craig had little to compare in regard to spending time with his children; he spent most of his childhood alone. His parents seldom sought him out and were rarely available, physically or emotionally, when he needed them. During those early years of solitude, a great bitterness and anger formed in Craig’s heart. Dishonoring his father was now bearing terrible fruit: he could not enter into his children’s world. As he recognized and acknowledged the deep wounds of his past, he began to open his heart to become the man God intended him to be. Without those condemning judgments and the unmet demands toward his father in the way, he felt freer to learn how to join in more meaningful relationship with his children, not only reaching out to them in their world, but inviting them into his.

How do I declare my trust in God alone as the righteous Judge?

Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay," says the Lord. — Romans 12:19

May the LORD be our judge and decide between us. May he consider my cause and uphold it; may he vindicate me by delivering me from your hand. —1 Samuel 24:15

Then the trees of the forest will sing, they will sing for joy before the LORD, for he comes to judge the earth. —1 Chronicles 16:33

He will judge the world in righteousness; he will govern the peoples with justice.

—Psalm 9:8

For the LORD is our judge, the LORD is our lawgiver, the LORD is our king; it is he who will save us. —Isaiah 33:22

I will save my flock, and they will no longer be plundered. I will judge between one sheep and another.—Ezekiel 34:22

But they will have to give account to him who is ready to judge the living and the dead.

—1 Peter 4:5

Prior to the start of a new client’s week of counseling, I send out a fourteen-page life history questionnaire. One of the questions is “Did you confide in your parents?” Very few answer yes. Some acknowledge that they could have, but did not. The most common response is no. Most people were not able to, or chose not to, confide in or trust their parents. This is not surprising. Most of us simply have not been taught how to trust. We mistakenly think that trusting means choosing people who are perfectly dependable and then counting on them. We base our decisions to trust on the relative strength of our value judgment of them. But even when we are able to find reliable people and risk to place our trust in them, at some point we will be disappointed. They will fail us. Where there is caring, there is pain. And pain tempts us to withdraw from and judge those who hurt us. If no one is there to teach us how to forgive and to keep our hearts open, we become less trusting and our relationships suffer. While it is true that some people are more dependable than others, our relationships, both casual and intimate, would be severely limited if we expected perfection.

We see this poignantly portrayed every September in the cartoon strip Peanuts. Each fall, Charlie Brown tries to kick the football that Lucy is holding. Every year Lucy yanks the ball out and Charlie lands flat on his backside. Each episode begins with Lucy somehow convincing Charlie that she is going to let him kick the football.

One year she actually told him she was going to yank the football away, and Charlie still chose to make the attempt, again landing on his backside and prompting the other characters to make fun of “silly old Charlie Brown” and his annual exercise in futility.

Charles Schultz, the creator of the comic strip Peanuts, created Charlie to be doomed to failure, but endowed him with an endearing characteristic: basic trust. Basic trust is the ability and willingness to keep our hearts open even when we know we are going to be hurt or disappointed. Charles Schultz designed Lucy to represent the world, cynical and undependable, whereas Charlie Brown to represent hope and trust.

Are we to trust the way Charlie Brown does? Are we to keep going back to difficult situations? I believe yes, yet some relationships are destructive and harmful, and we are wise to avoid them while still choosing to forgive those who harm us.

Our understanding of Charlie Brown’s plight—that of keeping our hearts open in the face of being wounded in a relationship, which many of us never learned—helps us to recognize why it may be difficult to trust God.

To declare my trust in God alone as the righteous Judge challenges me to question, “Do I really believe God is who He says He is? How able and willing am I to choose to trust? Did I ever learn, or was I encouraged to make choices to trust, knowing things won’t always turn out exactly the way I want? Can I accept that? As I choose to forgive, am I willing to place my trust in God without expectations, giving up any judgments or condemnations or demand for payback, because He is the righteous Judge?”

Choosing to trust God doesn’t mean that from that point onward, the Lord is going to do whatever we want. We must be willing to accept His will and His character in order to forgive. Jesus told Martha that whoever believes in Him would live, and whoever lives and believes in Him will never die. Then He asked her, “Do you believe this?” (John 11:26). We are also challenged with the same question.

After I taught a class on forgiving, I was approached by a young man who asked, “Let me get this straight: if I declare God as the righteous Judge, then God’s going to get them, right?”

When we declare God as Judge, we are not hiring a “hit man,” but depending on a God who also loves our enemies. When we declare God as the righteous Judge, we give up our role as judge and jury, and turn our enemies over to Him. What He does with them is up to Him. Knowing this, we are freed of a tremendous burden that we are not designed to carry.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

—Romans 15:13

I choose not to blame or hold the actions of __________ against them. I hereby surrender my right to be paid back for my loss by the one who has sinned or trespassed against me, and in so doing, I declare my trust in God alone as the righteous Judge.

Chapter 10

How to Forgive Part 6:

Blessing and Enduring

Lord, I forgive __________

I give You permission to take the

judgment and bitterness out of my heart.

I do not want this in my life. I surrender

it to You and ask You to remove it—to

heal me where I have been wounded, to

forgive me where I have sinned. I choose

not to blame or hold the actions

of __________ against them. I hereby

surrender my right to be paid back for

my loss by the one who has sinned or

trespassed against me, and in so doing,

I declare my trust in God alone as the

righteous Judge.

Father God, bless them in every way.

In Jesus’ name, amen.

Father God, bless them in every way. In Jesus’ name, amen

They may curse, but you will bless; when they attack they will be put to shame, but your servant will rejoice. —Psalm 109:28

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. —Romans 12:14

We work hard with our own hands. When we are cursed, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure it. —1 Corinthians 4:12

Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you. If someone strikes you on the cheek, turn to him the other also, if someone takes your coat, give him your shirt as well. —Luke 6:28–29

Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing.
—1 Peter 3:9

In Luke 6:29, Jesus teaches us that when someone wants our coat we are to give him our shirt as well. Nowadays, for most of us, a stolen coat is a temporary hardship, and the idea of blessing the one who has stolen it may not be a terribly difficult task. But what if someone molests our child, steals our life savings, leaves us for someone else, or slanders our name? At that point, the concept of blessing becomes a far greater challenge. Jesus taught a radical spiritual principal: no matter what the offense, we are to give more than what is demanded of us rather than seeking revenge for ourselves. As we learn to turn the other cheek, it may at first seem like adding insult to injury. Yet in this act we are writing on our hearts the humility and sacrifice Jesus experienced on the cross.

One afternoon I was watching a well-known talk show. The subject for the day was sexual abuse. A number of guests relayed horrific events from their childhood and were joined by several authorities on the subject for a panel discussion. At one point, a prominent psychiatrist looked directly into the camera, and for the whole world to see and hear, said, “Of all the sins in the world, sexual abuse is the one we should never forgive.”

I was shocked and dismayed as I realized the effect of this statement. Not only was the television audience told not to forgive; a blessing wasn’t even considered. When Jesus tells us to love our enemies, He is not suggesting that we simply mouth some words to that effect. He asks that we choose compassion over resentment.

Catherine Doherty writes:

Even if it seems impossible for us to satisfy this requirement, the heart that offers itself to the Holy Spirit can, like Christ, love even to love’s extreme; it can turn injury into compassion and transform hurt into intercession. Forgiveness participates in the divine mercy and is a high-point of Christian prayer.[10]

As we move, step by step, through the difficult process of forgiving, we notice that not only our thoughts but also our feelings are changed. Our hearts and minds are less consumed with our hurt and wounding, and bitterness is no longer our automatic response. In many cases we can actually begin to see the other’s perspective, without judgment. If our wound is particularly grievous, as when our loved ones are harmed or victimized, we may need to acknowledge an evil intention. Nonetheless, we are still called to come to a place of choosing to bless the sinner, the very one who has hurt us.

Scripture speaks of a blessing as something tangible, even concrete. Romans 12:14 says we are to bless those who persecute us. Here the Greek word for bless, eulogeo, means “to speak well of.” This becomes the challenge of healing and forgiving.

In earlier chapters, we learned to give up our right to payback. Now we are commanded to go even further—to bless and speak well of the very one who has hurt us. Romans 12:20 commands, “If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.” This is similar to the giving of our shirt if someone robs us of our coat (Luke 6:29). In short, no matter the sin against us, the sinner is still in need of our love and blessing.

As difficult as this may seem, it is the final element of forgiving that helps to bring healing to our hearts and minds. When we are able not only to choose to think a positive thought or prayer for one who has hurt or wounded us, but to actually look for a way to help or provide for this person in some way, we are blessing him.

You have heard that it was said, “Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.” But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your own people, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.

—Matthew 5: 43–48

In the example cited in the introduction, the Amish community knew that if they were to continue living the godly life they had chosen, they could not hold on to judgment and bitterness. There was no questioning the depth of their grief, but there was no questioning their faith. They were required to deal with the tragedy, but they elected to do more. They chose to bless Maria Roberts, the wife of the man who killed their daughters, demonstrating to the world how to forgive.

Our own decisions to bless those who have sinned against us may not be so visible or inspiring to the world around us. In most cases, our blessings will be subtle and unannounced. We may call a friend who has hurt us, or offer care to an aging father who remains unrepentant. We may choose to speak kindly of someone who has injured us, even if he or she has since died. These blessings are nonetheless powerful acts we work closely with God to accomplish.

And you are heirs of the prophets and of the covenant God made with your fathers. He said to Abraham, “Through your offspring all peoples on earth will be blessed.”

—Acts 3:25

And because they are blessings, and we are heirs to the kingdom, they make an important difference in the lives of others. I believe that God makes sure of that, as we see in Acts 3:25.

Father God, bless them in every way. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Section III

Chapter 11

Forgive Always

How difficult it is to forgive! When God sent His Son to pay the price for our sins, He knew it was going to be a terrible yet loving act of obedience. He also knows how painful it may be for us to truly forgive. Does He expect us to be as obedient as Jesus was? I believe yes.

Each step of the forgiving prayer has a price to pay, an action on our part, and a consequence. Each requires of us things that are difficult, sacrificial, and sometimes painful, but the results are godly, countering our fleshly desire for revenge or payback. We must often act in direct opposition to how we feel. When we make the decision to forgive and bless, we open ourselves to God and His Holy Spirit and, asking for help, we receive.

It’s important to be able to identify and label how we feel, to cry out as Jesus did in Gethsemane, and acknowledge that our emotions are reflecting our pain and the sense of unfairness that has wounded us. These feelings are often accurate messages, indicating our wound and our need for healing in our hearts and souls and sometimes in our bodies.

When we bless, even though we may not “feel like” blessing, we are choosing the godly response even as we acknowledge our wound; we are inviting God’s healing into our lives. And although we may not have the exact words or attitude to bless at the moment, God does.

We are proclaiming what Jesus did on Calvary. He went to the cross after anguishing about it, even after asking if this cup could pass Him by (Luke 22:42). He chose to have faith that in His obedience, His Father would work through Him. We can depend on the same results when we are obedient to our heavenly Father—healing in our hearts and blessing to those who have hurt us. By choosing to forgive, we are giving God permission and clearing the path for God to do a miracle in us and through us.

While pondering and praying about this last chapter, I was reminded of the many times I have taught on generational sin and my desire to balance the concept with more about generational blessings. I shared earlier about my struggles with my father and the eventual blessing of love before his death. During one of our discussions, my dad shared about his difficult relationship with his father, Charles F. Finck Sr. It helped me see a generational pattern that eventually affected our relationship as well. I never knew my grandfather, as he died several years before I was born.

Recently I was going through some boxes of Dad’s belongings and found a wallet that I assumed was his. As I looked through it, I found an old two-dollar bill among other notes and business cards. I quickly realized that this wasn’t my father’s wallet; it was my grandfather’s. I felt privileged as I read the notes he’d written to his family in the event of his death. It wasn’t a formal will—just an accounting of some finances and a few personal directives.

“Forgive always when at all possible, and do everything to make it possible.”

Charles F. Finck Sr.

The one that stuck out the most for me was a simple statement:

“Forgive always when at all possible, and do everything to make it possible.”

I felt blessed and privileged that seventy-five years and two generations later, the message my grandfather shared with his family would be the subject of a book by his grandson.

My hope and fervent prayer is that these writings help you to do everything possible to forgive, always!

What joy it brings to believe in a loving God, who is fully invested in us and hopes for the same from us. When we choose to forgive, we are proclaiming that relationship.

Heavenly Father we thank you for all these things, especially the gift of your Son. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Gebet In Deutscher Sprache

(Forgiving Prayer in German)

Herr Jesus, ich vergebe __________________.

Herr, ich erlaube dir nun, alle Verurteilungen und alle Bitterkeit aus meinem Herzen zu entfernen. Ich möchte nicht mehr damit leben. Hiermit übergebe ich sie Dir und bitte Dich, nimm sie und heile mich da, wo ich verwundet bin. Und vergib mir, wo ich gesündigt habe. Ich entscheide mich nun, __________ nicht mehr anzuklagen oder ihm (ihr) seine (ihre) Taten vorzuhalten. Ich übergebe Dir hiermit mein Recht auf Wiedergutmachung durch die Person, die an mir schuldig geworden ist und setze mein Vertrauen auf Gott, den einzigen gerechten Richter.

Vater im Himmel, segne nun ____________ mit deinem reichen Segen. In Jesu Namen, Amen.

Perdonar la Oración en Español

(Forgiving Prayer in Spanish)

Señor, yo perdono a ___________.

Te doy permiso para sacar el juicio y la amargura de mi corazón.

No lo quiero en mi vida.

Lo entrego a Ti y Te pido que me lo quites—para sanarme donde he sido herido y perdonarme en donde he pecado.

Elijo no culpar o mantener las acciones de _________ en su contra.

Por eso rindo mi derecho de ser recompensado por mi perdida por la persona que ha pecado contra mi o me ha ofendido,

Y al hacer esto, declaro mi confianza solamente en Dios como el Juez Justo.

Dios Padre, bendiceles en toda forma. En el nombre de Jesucristo, amen.

MP3 Resource

Wording here.

End Notes

[1] Lawrence Cunningham, As We Forgive Those, Notre Dame Magazine, October 2003.

[2] Mike Mason, The Mystery Of Marriage, Random House, 1996.

[3]C. S. Lewis,Mere Christianity, © (1943, 1945, 1952) 1960 The Macmillan Company.

[4] Temperance Brennan from the television series “Bones.”

[5] Margaret Hara (a conversation with my sister).

[6] Pope John Paul II, Catholic Fire, April 2, 2006.

[7] Carol Lynn Pearson, Beginnings, Doubleday Books, 1975.

[8] Catherine Doherty, Gospel Without Compromise, MH Publications, 1989.

[9] Gordon Dalbey-Newsletter 15Sep09.

[10] Catherine Doherty, Beginning Again, MH Publications, 2004.

Table of Contents

Dedication

Introduction Forgiving Is Simple, It’s Just Not Easy

Section I

Section II

Section III

Gebet In Deutscher Sprache

Perdonar la Oración en Español

MP3 Resource

End Notes