Disturbed?

     Attending my church's Celebrate Recovery classes has reopened wounds that I only periodically addressed.  Periodically, because I only return to my hometown every so often.  Whereas my other blog-posts have addressed my wounds with my mother, this does not.  From the context of forgiveness, I have already fully forgiven my mother.  However, there is another family member I still fight to forgive.  I know that Jesus stated on the cross, "Forgive them for they know not what they do," but I wonder how much this individual does NOT know...or is their perspective so jaded by cultural norms that they do not realize it, at all?  
     Forgiveness is not an overnight thing, when wounds have festered for a time.  It's a process.  I have to choose to forgive - let go of the debt of the weight of what they have done (and still do) - despite the fact that nothing has changed.  I think that is the hardest thing of all.  However, if Jesus is willing to forgive, so must I.  I need help.  And I realize that forgiveness doesn't necessarily mean becoming best of friends in the relationship.  It might just look like being willing to spend time with the person.  It might mean having a conversation (but yet, having boundaries that the conversation doesn't go to an area that might cause harm).  It's willing to wish a blessing when everything says you want to curse that person.  It means giving a hug and saying, "I love you," even when you believe that you had to earn their love.
     Forgiveness is painful.  It's feeling the tears, but lacking any recourse for immediate change.  It's letting go of the expectation that public justice must be manifested to humiliate the person of their sin.  It's the willingness to reconcile the person to the wholeness of Christ, whether an apology is given or not.  Human nature demands the apology.  And the only one that may be given is theirs to God, and mine to Him (as well) for holding onto offense.  Will that be enough?
     In working through the hurt from this individual, I am calm, but the pain that I have incurred leaves me with questions.  Why was the object of offense such an issue for them?  I don't know if I will ever have the boldness to ask such a question.  I fear retaliation.  I fear being balked at.  I fear being shut down.  In the mean-time the subject has not been brought up, and I must find peace in the quiet despite my wonderings.  This poem has been written, more so, as a release of tension, but feeling the tears once again that caused so much damage.  I hope that in the process, it gives way to more freedom, and allow myself to love this person more deeply, despite the things they say.  All the while, during the waiting for redemption.

*****

A score of memories

Filled mostly with pain.

Questions not of what,

But, why…

My confidence in the treasures given

Shattered as messages received

Denied their importance.

What did I do 

To annoy you;

What did I say 

To hurt you?

I was only a child.

Running innocently

Through the wilds of God’s play.

Or so, I thought.

Until I heard words that my heart’s beat

Sought the wrong things.

I realize I am not perfect.

There is need for sanctifying.

However, God made me

As I am,

With the gifts, talents

Interests I have.

Passions and desires

That set me on fire.

What was it about me 

That disturbed you so?

The eyes through which

You read the world

Is colored in only two;

Black and white -

And the foundation you stand

Is always “right.”
Nevertheless, truth without love

Only deepens wounds carried

By the already hurting.

Always something to share;

Always ready with a response.

How often do you listen to learn;

Refrain the two cents you can birth?

Are you willing to carry the burden 

Of those with dying souls,

Without aiming to condemn them 

With their sin-filled actions?

Today, now I make you

Proud with the boldness

I have found

In Jesus Christ.

Things hidden now flourish

From what you define

To be a woman.

But another still waits for your approval.

What will she have to do

To gain your love?

How is it

You pour grace faithfully

Freely

Upon those not your own,

But drill the law upon your own blood?

Can love be extended,

Without anything in return?

Can delight in the person’s presence

Be given without a payment

Of walking the line divinely,

According to personal standards?

Can you want someone

Just as they are,

Despite the different 

Color they wear?