Forgiveness is easy to preach. It’s harder to live. And when distance has amazingly protected the areas of the heart that were wounded years ago, one may question the need to get close to the flames that scorched. So has been the case of my healing in this season. God told me I was supposed to be in a season of rest and healing. In my obedience, I moved back to my hometown, and for the first couple months, it was going well. Spending time in God’s Word and studying what it meant to be a child of God was exactly what I needed. But my aunt and uncle went to South Africa for a short-term mission trip, and since that moment, I have found that the form of rest is taking a different shape. I never wanted to go back to Missoula, in the first place. I settled in my heart that a season of rest was needed, but I begged God to allow me to move to another Rez. Send me overseas. Anywhere but Missoula. And if I had to move to Missoula, I knew that the only place I could afford living was with my aunt and uncle. This doesn’t sound so bad until one realizes that some of my childhood (and even adulthood) wounds came from them. Leaning into the pain takes a whole new meaning. As I mentioned before, things were going well the first couple of months. I found that my aunt and I were talking in ways I could never talk with my mother. I realized that our personalities are similar, and we try to be upfront about what we think. It’s a positive attribute, but sometimes we can be a bit too bold. Things were going good. Nevertheless, when God has been pouring into you, it should never come as a surprise that things will happen to stir the water. Call it an attack of the enemy or God purifying things - either way, sometimes the ugly comes to the surface when God’s been at work. It started with the week of crazy - something intense occurred in my family and I had to make a decision that could mean life or death. But I feared judgment from my aunt concerning how I addressed the circumstance. Then came Halloween. As I have gotten older, the comments from my aunt have generally ceased. Except for one area. My native people. And on Halloween, she made another joke that was rooted in racism. I found myself at a complexity. On a spiritual plane, I knew that I could learn from my aunt, however, on a personal level, I experienced degradation. What was this hypocrisy that I encountered? How could a godly woman who stands firm on the Bible hurt me so much? In processing her wounds (both past and present), I found that I had a soul tie. Not all soul ties are romantic. However, if one is guarded concerning how a person reacts and finds it extremely difficult to be transparent with them, it is probable there may be a soul tie. The irony of the Halloween statement is that in response to her “joke”, I had an open reaction. I turned around and whispered - but, apparently not so quietly, the essence of her joke. I looked back, and she looked shocked. She hasn’t told me, but something in me says she heard me. This was the first time I actually addressed any of her wounds, directly. Most of the time, I either became quiet or made a joke about it, myself. But not this time. I openly stated that her “joke” was not appropriate (“That’s not racist,” sarcastically). But the fear came in immediately. I thought I should prepare for a defense. I wasn’t at all apologetic, as it was something that I believe needed to be addressed. Nevertheless, I hesitated inwardly. I didn’t want to go back to her place. I thought about the idea of packing out and moving in with my parents. They don’t have any room, but I could make it work. I prepared for a detailed speech. That soul tie was yanking my fear chain. And at some level, I need to stop being afraid. This doesn’t mean I don’t care about what people think, at all. It is important to be humble enough to heed conviction. But the fear I had was one that made me believe that my worth to my aunt was conditional, based on if I agreed with her 100%. And obviously, that wasn’t the case. Nevertheless the soul tie I needed to break with my aunt required forgiveness. Forgiveness is a good message until an application comes up. But in this comment, I knew that to break the subtle bitterness that could ensue, I needed to give this free gift. I needed to completely pardon her. She didn’t deserve it. However, maybe she didn’t know that the things she said were inappropriate. As much as she is a godly woman, maybe she, like myself, has blind spots. I, too, am a repeat offender to God. And I wish for forgiveness from Christ. As Christian-cliché as it is to say, who am I to withhold what has been given me? Forgiveness doesn’t excuse the action. God walked me through the grieving and the hurt. “What did the joke communicate?” Most offenses wouldn’t offend if the words themselves had not communicated something other. In my case, the words communicated that my aunt didn’t care about me, or the people God put in my life to minister. I saw areas of comparison and favoritism displayed in a simple sentence. In a joke...that really wasn’t much of a joke to me. Yet, holding on to the hurt was holding onto pride. It was saying I was righteous in holding my grudge. However, the process of forgiveness, for me, is to see that nobody is perfect, and where harm has been committed, lack of knowledge is prevailing. So, after I grieved with God and understood why the words hurt so much, I was emotionally settled. I knew I had forgiveness toward my aunt. However, did I need to bring this up? I waited a couple of days, and my aunt never mentioned anything. I thought that I was good, therefore, I didn’t need to say something. However, one of my unhealthy codependent habit was to feel the urge to bring up an offense only when I felt the sting. But once I felt okay, I wouldn’t say anything. Subsequently, I was set up to be hurt again, because the offender never came to the knowledge that what was done was hurtful. It was more beneficial to be emotionally at peace and then bring up the concern. Not to prove a point (as what would be the motive if I was emotionally charged), but to bring reconciliation. I would bring up the wound in an effort to invite the person to right their wrong, and secondly, to allow for a deeper level of trust to result. It was three days after the offense happened, and I knew that I needed to say something. The truth is, I wanted to be able to trust my aunt and be able to go to her, but this offense was the wall. Furthermore, if I was scared of her reaction, then the negative soul tie that formed as a child would persist. I had a short paragraph prepared. I told my aunt how I felt, but I only got a couple sentences in. There was nothing mentioned to make her feel like an idiot, though I informed her of the danger of her words and what they communicated. She said that she wouldn’t make those comments again. I told her I forgave her and loved her. Nothing else was spoken. And that night, we watched Big Bang Theory, as was our nightly tradition. The soul tie is cracking, if not already completely broken.
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