The Masquerade

Proffering the pauper
Delicately dressed
As to adorn the poor
As one of the rich.
Elegantly arrayed for the dance,
With nothing but the eyes
Be seen.

Knowledge of the steps
Memories of the minute balls
None could fathom the form
I found as my face.
A phantom in plain sight.
Did any want to know
The broken behind the beauty?

I smile wonderfully
But lost my footing.
A little thing
Unless you knew 
How many times
I have fallen.

As long as I
Annunciate the diction,
As long as I
Cover my face,
You won't know
The hell I can bring
To my own soul.
Remove the veil,
Reveal the facade.
There's more to the music
Than an angel's chord.

Beneath the mask
Bears the marks borne
From another's verbal hand.
Scars wrought in
Self-inflicted wounds
Disclose the hope
In status gained
By the world's symphony.

I succumbed to the hypnosis
Of the concerto.  Shame
Found its pride when authenticity,
In the name of validity,
Was celebrated as intimacy.

Why did I prostrate my soul
Before an audience
Whose harmonies never satisfy?
Paper faces scorched;
A new Soliloquy sung:
I am known.  Loved.
Whilst I dance with Him,
I am healed.

"Masquerade", Phantom of the Opera, 2005

Redemption's Restoration

My soul was made
For Eden.
Destined to rest 
In Your presence,
I was created to be loved
And love the One
Who knows me intricately.

A wretched hurricane
Collided into Paradise.
Smothered in filth and debris,
My only shelter
Dirty rags.

I thought if I scrubbed
The sin off my flesh,
Maybe if I just bled,
It would be enough.
Yet, even after my baptism,
I remained as dark
As before;
Infected with its insidious mold.

I believed in Your name,
Yet, I held onto my own ways.
Freed from my prison,
But I still carried 
The chains.

What could I say 
To prove I was changed?
My words only refreshed
For a moment.
What could I do?
My actions only made
Room to walk
Through, never
Eliminate, the mess.

There is blood
Holier than mine.
Whose drops seep
In between the grains
Of wood, perspiring
New life with every touch
Reached.

The crimson flow
Made white
The hazardous waste
That encapsulated my home.
His love without boundaries;
His righteousness without mar;
His power without end
Cleansed me and clothed me new.

The clout of 
Wickedness gone.
The memory of 
Sin's stain
With time, is lost.

Forgiveness - A Work of Jesus

     Forgiveness is one of those things that as a Christian, you'd think it would be easy, but it still can be one of the most complex - yet simple - parts of faith. As humans, not only are we to forgive, but after an offense, then we have to wrestle with the next step of trust. "Okay, so I forgave this person. Does that mean I have to trust them again?" Forgiveness and trust are not the same thing. And yet, repeatedly in Scripture, I find that God so easily forgives. Someone is caught in their sin, they apologize, and God commends them for turning back to Him.
     I wonder if why I struggle with forgiveness (and trust) after an offense, but God can just remove it from His sight as far as the east is from the west, is because...He knows that His Holy Spirit has the power to enact the change needed to transition from "repent" to "turn from the wicked ways". In our humanity, we cannot. But He can. (That is why time is required, after a wrong, to build trust in human relationships. As for a relationship with Jesus, it is more automatic.)     
     Forgiveness is foundational to the Christian faith, and yet, if I was honest, I got sucked into the rope that I had to prove my repentance by charging myself to obey and do the right thing. Good idea, except...I'm not Jesus and I can't carry His grace without Him. Doing good things without Jesus' leading or empowerment is just works...and experience has proven that as adamant as I am about becoming a godly person, when I get ahead of His work, I fall right back to the old ways and mindsets.
     But what an amazing thing that it is Jesus who does the work! So often, I read in the Old Testament concerning the righteous and wicked, and wondered if I could be the latter. If people really knew me, they would know how much I actually struggle and fall. But while reading Micah, it finally hit me. God wasn't describing the wicked as the ones who sought after Him, would periodically fall into sin but repented. The wicked were the ones who desired evil but did sacrifices just to save their butts. Maybe they even looked holier than the saints, because they hid their sins. But the righteous...it's not always an absence of doing wrong. Boy, do I wish it was. Nevertheless, the righteous, when sin is confronted, run to Jesus and repent. They trust in Him to do the work...and God is faithful to complete it.
     So, when I find myself fallen, may I instinctively run to the One who can make me new. (Micah 7:18-20)

A Matter of Trust

      A year of internal healing has commenced, and so, I began my internship with the expectation that I would be able to jump in and start learning and doing ministry again.  However, in the quiet moments, I have found how broken I still really am.  During worship, I glanced at my new friends - still in their early 20s - freely worshiping with all abandonment.  I thought I trusted in Jesus.  I know He is my Savior and Lord.  But there is a heartache that doesn’t allow Him in when I am in need.     I have been bad at that.  Allowing myself to be in need.  Because being in need means putting a burden on someone by which it isn’t their responsibility to carry.  But when I have had my own questions, I didn’t find myself the room where I could ask.  So, I would silently cry.  I would wrestle in secret.  The thoughts - and the emotional and spiritual scars - I have carried are more than what acquaintances would configure me having.     It isn’t a secret that the topic of healing has been a recurring theme and question.  However, with every battle that I faced, I learned a little more that God’s goodness doesn’t fail to sustain.  Many times, I don’t necessarily get an answer to “Why didn’t You heal,” except for a response of, “Will you trust that I am good?”     Trust.  So easy for a child.  But when faith has been beaten down, trust can seem like a distant hope.  Especially, when you grew up in a church that claimed all the healing verses for a pastor, sick with cancer, and yet, he died.  And when we begged God for a physical resurrection, it didn’t happen.  The little thing that people would know about me… I didn't realize that when Pastor Steve died 16 years ago, his death affected my ability to trust in God’s goodness.  Nay…not that.      I stick with Jesus, because I know He’s good.  But I have had trouble consistently believing that God would heal, or that He would raise the dead (especially, when cancer is involved).  I have taught myself to pray for someone from a distance, because failure to see any immediate change would - I was convinced - put the reputation of Jesus in jeopardy.  I could pray for someone who’s a Christian, because I was assured that their faith wouldn’t deplete when a desired outcome wasn’t seen.     I have been convinced that someone’s healing was dependent on me.  I learned this when I would go up to the altar for my own healing…and not seeing anything, would be told that I just needed to have faith.  I just needed to receive it.  When Pastor Steve died, comments were made that he may have died, because we didn’t pray enough.  And when he died and didn’t raise from the dead, I didn’t give myself time to mourn.  I became fixated on making sure my mind didn’t question the goodness of God.  Furthermore, when I had family who had their own questions surrounding the pain, I had to become the backbone to hold them together.     I knew that Pastor Steve is still a painful component in my life (I still find myself having tears when I mention him), but I never took stock that it had affected my faith.  After all, sixteen years later, I am still holding onto Jesus.  However, every death that followed, burying someone was another gut punch.  “God, how do I get to see You win in this situation?”  Cancer became a curse word.  Despair and chaos looked like normalcy. I thought I was strong, but while holding on, part of me was broken.  I needed to sufficiently mourn and let go of my burden. Truth is, there was a time that I prayed with such great faith.  I knew without any doubt that God had given us promises of His goodness and faithfulness.  And I stood on them firmly.  However, something has occurred over the years.  I have stopped asking, unless it was of immediate importance.  I have simply expected and figured out a way to get what I wished; and when what I hoped for didn’t come to fruit, I became inwardly distraught.  “Will God come through like I need to?”  This is the secret that I've held from public view. I have failed to trust God for the things I needed.  I have failed to trust God that He knew best.  I have failed to trust that God would show His goodness when I needed Him to move.  So, I stopped asking.  Internally, I either demanded, or detached.  It’s no wonder that when God directed me to write a poem about standing on His word and declaring who He is, all that flowed were words expressing my pain.  There was a wall, and it needed to break.      Finally, the dam that burst my secret to the conscious: “If people spent more time asking for My will (in the situation), there would be less pain.  I’m not God just for when I do things according to plan.  And if there is something that goes wrong, it’s not because it's your fault.  Pastor Steve didn’t die just because people didn’t pray enough.” It wasn’t my fault that Pastor Steve died. That was the weight I carried.  That somehow, God’s hand was limited to my ability to pray and ask for things.  Somehow, in the mess of faith in faith (coined by an elder in my Spokane church), I became convinced that if a promise of God did not come in on my timing or in my way, then I believed that God was not for me. I believed that the outcomes of prayer were an indication of His grace for me.  But grace is not grace if it depends on me. God is still God.  He is still good.  But His ways are not my ways.  Therefore, I must consider His vantage point and will.     This isn’t to negate prayer.  This isn’t to forget that there are promises of God to hold onto; certainly, there are.  I do believe that God is sovereign, but He also chooses to partner with His Church to bring about His will.  But I am learning there is a difference between asking God to move and demanding how He should move.  I think it’s okay to recognize a testimony and ask God if He can do the same work on a personal level.  It is okay to read about a miracle in the Bible and implore the Creator to move as He once did.  With intercession, I am learning to see the eternal perspective, not just the finite; humble enough to know that He is Lord, good, and never ceases to be such.      This is one aspect of breaking through in trusting God for me.  In writing the following poem, I had to pause, because I have found that my heart is jaded concerning different aspects of the character of Jesus. There is much pain I have forgotten.  But I am learning to trust again, one step at a time.

“Standing on Your Word”

My heart has been broken;

My mind scammed.

As death surrounds,

The silence of seemingly

Unanswered prayers haunt my memories.
Hope buried asunder from sight.

Don’t let my heart

Declare You a liar.

It is in the grave that seeds grow.

Protect my heart to hold 

Onto heaven’s truth

After the first hearing -

Long after my mind has forgotten

Based on the first sight

Of hell on earth.

Trauma is great for drama

But living with it tempts faith.

A small light is a great liar

And he convinced me

To believe You were unworthy 

Of my trust.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I must acknowledge my lack

Of understanding which

I so easily professed.

I know You

Are worthy 

Of my praise.

When humanity cries,

I know the answer has already come.

His name is Jesus.

Help me to stand on Your word,

As I wait.

With Your breath

You uttered life.

With every breath I breathe

I admit the One

Who made the complete conglomerate.

You hold all galaxies in Your hand

Yet Your eye is intimately entwined 

With every fiber of creation.

Ushering in a dominion

That brings freedom,

The innocence You hold

Cleanses the soul.

Righteousness wrought in my name 

Fails to compare

To Your benevolence

Which never extends

Into a conclusion.

How lowly my aims

To only see a portion

Of who You are!

If Your mercy was withheld,

Do I not recognize where I’d be?

It was unreserved love

That emboldened Your hand

To be bloodied for me.

Your foresight expands

Beyond my comprehension.

And yet, with a holy graciousness,

My questions never intimidate

Your lordship.

Never promising immediacy,

Yet promising faithfulness,

You invite me to a certainty

Beyond the senses and sentiments.

So…

May the solitary silence

Not produce a fear of insolence.

May it become a reminder

Of the presence of the One

Who is awesome beyond

What language could explore.

As I utter my pleas,

You will speak Your word.

As I wait for Your promises,

More so, I will wait for You.

Falling From and Into Grace

 

To Whom it May Concern: The Vineyard Church
Subject: Pastor Matt Chandler

    I’m sure it has been a tumultuous time since Pastor Matt stepped down, as a result of inappropriate messages made public.  With all that is being posted in the media concerning Christians, churches, and the rise of scandals, finding yourselves to be listed among those who have fallen from grace is not something you hoped, nor probably thought would become an issue for your church.  I am not familiar with your church, nor all the doctrines that you teach.  I know that you believe in Christ and are biblically grounded.  In this time, shame is attached to your name.  However, I believe that how you approached the situation will prove itself to allow you to fall into, not out of, grace.

     To the woman who confronted the pastor: I know that it must have been hard but thank you for caring enough about your friend and your pastor to say things weren’t okay.  Sometimes I have wondered how to address something that may seem out of the ordinary (though, it wasn’t a matter of legal ramifications).  Often, I resided in my silence and then hoped someone else was able to bring up the concern.  Also, thank you for modeling a biblical way of addressing an offense.  In the day and age where one can immediately blast people across the internet and let news spread like wildfire, you chose to go to your pastor directly.  What guts!  But also, what love!  Your actions showed no hidden agenda or bitterness.  I wish I could be more like that when something awry comes into my life.
    To Pastor Matt: Any one of us can blur lines, especially when the beginnings of conversations are innocent enough.  I do not mean to belittle the pain you caused the woman, her acquaintances, nor your wife and family.  Due to what has been revealed, there are relational consequences that you will need to attend.  I pray that you will be able to heal and build trust once again.  Moreover, I want to thank you for being humble enough that when someone brought a concern to you, you didn’t react defensively.  You took time to review your messages, and then you brought yourself before your church board for accountability.  It is not easy to confess sin or the question of falling into it.  It is so much easier to hide.  I wish the church was more like this.
    This isn’t just about pastors.  I say this for Christians, in general.  So much of modern American Christianity is bent on comfort and the faith that is dominant is what Dietrich Bonhoeffer described as “cheap grace”.  We so often fail to deal with our sins.  We just want to be made to feel nice.   Pastor Matt’s intentionality to bring something to the light is a lesson I think we all can learn.  I wish we stopped having our faith be so private.  I wish we didn’t convince ourselves that we have to strong-arm walking the Jesus way, when we know dang well that it is Holy Spirit that does the perfect work in us.  I wish we learned to surround ourselves with friends and counselors that spoke lovingly, but also truthfully.  But it is easier to live as islands, rather than as a community.  And we are dying because of it.  If we had people who could encourage us, we would be able to press forward to Jesus; and the moments when we fall, we would find that we are surrounded.  And it is in Family that His grace can abound more.  

     To the Elders of Vineyard Church: Thank you for being godly individuals filled with conviction, and will follow that conviction, no matter the case.  You didn’t shrug off this situation.  You didn’t give room for the ‘minor’ offense to become a major offense (such as an affair).  I know that your church is now listed among others where a scandal has surfaced.  However, may I encourage you that if it wasn’t for 21st century technology, that wouldn’t be the case.  Frankly, I don’t see any covering up AT ALL in what occurred at your church.  When the concern was brought forth, you dealt with it, made adjustments for your pastor to take time to repent, heal, reflect and realign himself back to God.  You then made known to your church family the changes and why.  If YouTube didn’t exist, I don’t think that the world would’ve found out, nor it would have needed to.
    That being said, we cannot fix the century in which we live.  And despite the mass knowing and conversation on what has transpired, perhaps in all of this, you will be lifted up as an example of how churches should respond to cases such as this.  I wish we didn’t have to worry about pastors falling into sin.  Alas, they are human too, and can fall.  As we all do.  If we aren’t careful, good intentions can lead to blurred lines and blurred lines become excuses.  The key in this is that when it does become known, to bring it into the light and address it.  You have done that and done it well.  This is a painful time, but I hope other churches take a page from your story in how to prepare and address these situations.  (When Pastor Matt is healthier, maybe he can share where he slipped, and what preventative measures could be taken to help other pastors not fall in the same situation.)

     There is shame and regret.  Maybe on some level, disgust and reason to not trust the Church or pastors.  It is true that as Christians, we are the image bearers of the living God.  And so, when we fall, we fall hard.  And somehow the climb is harder, because there is such an expectation to not do something so sinful and wrong.  Jesus died for us, but the temptation to not forgive oneself can haunt.  Please forgive yourself, Pastor Matt Chandler.  Take the time to repent - and honestly, I think that is THE main way the world will, in time, see a difference.  What makes a Christian isn’t the absence of struggles or temptations.  It is not the absence of sin ever again.  We know we are still prone to fall.  Yet, the mark of one who knows Jesus is that he or she does not condone it and asks Holy Spirit to make him or her new in a way that was yet to be realized.  May you be made new once again.  May Vineyard Church be made whole and stronger than ever before.

God bless,

A Sister from Montana

A Regression in Healing...What the Heck?!

      To say I was puzzled doesn’t even begin to describe it.  I had an AMAZING breakthrough in Israel.  I was freed from demonic strongholds, my right hip and foot straightened forward, and my right hand was able to open a water bottle.  However, by the end of July, my right big toe began hurting.  A lot.  Everyday.  Whereas, back in Israel, I was able to remove the need for an ankle brace, now I need to wear it daily to make sure the foot is not in pain by the end of the day.  However, it doesn’t make sense.  Why would I have a breakthrough in healing, only to find debilitating pain later on (I was left limping!)?  There are times when my faith is assured and I can stand on what God has done.  However, there are moments, like now, when I am forced into a whirlwind of questions.      Why am I feeling pain?  Is this a demonic attack?  Did I sin in such a way to allow demons to take hold of me where the pain came?  Did I not work hard enough to make sure my body continued walking in its healing?  These questions are legitimate in that things are possible, but the underlying concern is how quick I ran to the assumption that the burden of my healing laid on my ability.  It’s a haunting that has persisted since adolescence.  I remember the questions I had then.  Did I lack enough faith to receive healing?  Did I fail to thank God enough to quicken the wait time for the healing?  How many times do I have to go to the altar before God gets the hint that He should move in my life, too?      Why, when I pray for someone else, they receive an immediate answer, but when I ask for healing in my quiet time, nothing changes?  God, how much do I have to beg for Your promises to manifest in my life?  Aren’t I Your kid, too?  I know that I’m not supposed to earn the gift of healing, but when I see others receive their promise, and I don’t, it doesn’t help any.      Ask me if I believe in healing, I will readily say yes.  However, in the grips of my pain - both physically and emotionally, I have to confront the reality of my questions. Do I trust God?  Sure…or so I would say.  Truth is, I see a hint of cynicism weed its way into my heart when I see the discrepancy between expectation and reality.  Or the reality of my present circumstance.      The questions come from the peoples’ expectations on what healing should and will look like.  I know that God isn’t cookie cutter.  I know that good people can struggle in life.  Jesus didn’t promise freedom from heartache.  But humanity likes to simplify matters.  And so, if something is out of order, we like to determine the cause.  Because if we do, then it is easier to fix something.  Or so we think.  Sometimes people don’t get better when we want them to.  Sometimes people die.  So, even with my personal experience of discouragement, shouldn’t that be evidence enough to leave God?
     There are times I hold onto Jesus, only because I resolve there is nowhere else I can go.  I have a historical understanding of world religions; I have found a consensus among them.  Humanity is required to prove its own goodness for the divine.  And yet, in my understanding of humanity, there is not one person who is completely good.  Even the goodie-two-shoes, like me.  Only in the case of Christianity, does God 1) detail that humanity is plagued with the curse of sin, 2) outright say that something has to be done, 3) say that humanity can’t do anything sufficiently to save its own soul, and 4) provide its own antidote for the problem. That being said, I have found a confession cracking through the hyper-spiritual denial I wasn’t even aware existed.      I know I have trusted Jesus for my personal salvation and for a sense of morality.  However, I have failed to trust that God is a God of His Word.  Oh yes, I have said I do.  But the continuing confusion, puzzlement, anger and discouragement relays a darker reality in my heart: cynicism.  I want to have faith, but my expectations periodically have been slashed.  Friends and family will be quick to remind me that I have seen God move in my life.  But in the moment of pain, I forget it all.  God works at this time, but then doesn’t for that time.  It isn’t fair.      The teacher of Ecclesiastes echoed the same sentiment.  “Vanity.  It is all vanity” that the good will experience the bad.  Job questioned God’s justice in the midst of his suffering, because he knew he was a righteous man, yet going through hell on earth.  What could be worse than losing all your children, property and health?  Horatio Spafford, author of “It is Well with My Soul”, understood that on a very personal level.      Life was as blessed as any American could define.  Spafford was a lawyer, living with his wife and four beautiful children.  However, in 1871, his only son died of pneumonia and the Chicago Fire affected him financially.  An economic recession made him take another hit.  However, if that wasn’t enough sorrow for a godly man to surmise, two years later, the most heartbreaking occurred.  His family intended on a vacation, but Spafford’s wife and three daughters went ahead.  The vessel collided and all three of his daughters died.  How much could a man take?  And yet, in his sorrow, he wrote, “It is well with my soul.”  (Information from Wikipedia.)      Out of curiosity, I read the entire hymn.  Why was this man without any doubt of God’s goodness, and yet, I was struggling to trust in it?  I found that Spafford spent a little time discussing his hurt, but the majority of his song praised God for the salvation that was afforded.  Reading through Ecclesiastes and the end of Job, I found two interesting verses:       “I know that You can do everything, and that no purpose of Yours can be withheld from You…[God] has made everything beautiful in its time.  Also, He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out that work that God does from beginning to end.” - Job 42:2; Ecclesiastes 3:11      I never thought I blamed God for my predicament, but I recognize that I have blamed Him for not releasing me from it on my time.  The questions I uttered came from an expectation of how healings should come.  Looking in the Bible, yes, there were some who received healings immediately, but there were others who had to have a second touch (Mark 8:24-25).  Some didn’t see the healing until after they left Jesus (Luke 17:11-19).  Biblically, timing is not necessarily immediate.     The statement that I just need to have enough faith doesn’t make sense (as if I need to muster more up), because Jesus said that faith as small as a mustard seed is enough to move mountains (Matthew 17:20).   Another concern I had was how I was told to keep thanking God for the healing to come.  Now, I know I need to be better about carrying gratitude, but I remember a man who was a bit spiteful about healings, and yet, Jesus made him walk (John 5:1-9).  So, why does that also have to be a determination for receiving healing?     Remember, I am not asking questions because I want to dissuade any responsibility or acknowledge possible demonic attacks.  These questions stem from an internal conviction that somehow any gift I receive from God must be earned.  And that is NOT biblical.  At all!!! I wrestle, because I wonder what I can do to get God to move on my behalf, in my way.  And thus far, it hasn’t happened yet.  Actually, I don’t remember God giving me healing on my terms any time He did something.  Whether it be the limb, or the place, or the time receiving the healing…it hasn’t been exactly what was hoped for or expected.  So much for telling God how He should do things.     I realize that I despair, as many Americans probably would, because I have bought into the Western Gospel where we worship God for what He can do in my life more than worshiping Him for who He is, trusting in His character and appreciating what Jesus did on the cross.  We identify blessings more on a Darwinism level, because we like the black-and-white answers to know if we are good (or not…yikes).  We have bought into signs not as a reflection of God’s heart, but rather as a proof and evidence that God loves or favors us.  Meaning, if God doesn’t move, then something’s wrong with you…or worse, maybe there’s something wrong with God.      I never thought that I could get to that position.  The more I walk with Jesus, I can see all the more my increasing and pressing need for Him.  His Lordship wasn’t in question.  However, His friendship has been.  For how can one be a friend with someone they do not trust?  However, I must excuse myself from the mindset that God has to bow to my demands.  Even when those demands are good.  Faith is not just believing that God exists.  It is a trust in His character and that He is a God of His Word (see Hebrews 11:1, 6).  Even when His work doesn’t make sense at the moment.      Questions aren’t inherently sinful.  I have found that when I face my honest, desperate soul and give it to God, with all the horror of impending doubt, I find solace, not because I receive answers, but because He is faithful.  I can’t say that I have arrived.  I can’t promise that I won’t ask questions on this topic, again (although, that would be nice).  But I hope I am walking with more faith, even if the only thing I am holding onto is trusting that God’s eternal plan is bigger than my finite life.  Here’s to one step at a time…Faith works like that. 

Unforgiveness and Dirty Mirrors

      

It’s hard to love unconditionally when someone has hurt you.  There is a need for boundaries, yes, but how does one not think of an individual and stop the mind from rambling as to how that person needs to change before the relationship can continue?  This is the matter that has continually plagued me in the last 10 months as I navigated my healing.  Because as much as I learned to not be defined by the person who had hurt me, and I learned how to set up gates to protect from future wounds, I noticed that I still had a desire for the person to change.  This isn’t necessarily a bad thing to desire, especially when discussing unhealthy habits.  However, I want the change completed on my time, in my way, justifying my rights.  The truth is forgiveness is a repetitive cycle as it is a moment’s decision.  Sometimes the pain of the past returns, and so in my lack of understanding, I find myself rehearsing the actions of the guilty party.  However, in all of my wrestling, I was not prepared for the bombshell that God decided to drop on me: “Just as you want to be taken as you are, you need to take [this person] as they are.”      I was being charged with being judgmental.  Matthew 7’s introductory portion has been used as an excuse to stay in sin, in the name of “do not judge”.  However, this is a misappropriation of the verse.  There is wisdom in discerning what is godly or not.  In Matthew 7, Jesus is describing a judgment as believing oneself to be better than someone else’s sin who has been found out. Seeing someone’s sin but denying or lacking the repentance of sin found in their own life.  In forgiving the “guilty family member”, God further revealed that the wooden speck in someone’s eye and the plank in my own eye came from the same tree.      What?!  I am not like that!  I am different!      Or so I thought.  But another whisper: Isn’t it funny how that’s the sin people stay offended?  He was talking about the sin that I was hurt, but was guilty of, as well.  I judged this family member as critical and judgmental.  Perhaps, rightly so.  I have all the evidence for it.  However, God also revealed that in my pain, I too have become critical.  I am quick to judge.  I am also guilty of slander, because in my effort to vent and process, a secret motive for others to side with me was at play.  It wasn’t just concerning this family member.  I can be critical of other people, things, and ideas if not careful.      I am not so different from my offender.  And as guilty as they are, I too, am just as much.  Becoming fixated on the sin of another, I had chosen for so many years to hold onto unforgiveness.  Then, I also became that which I hated.  A Pharisee.  Wanting my rights (or wanting what was right) penetrated my heart, birthing an overemphasis on proving one’s goodness.  If someone says something, then they better abide by it.  Anything less is to reveal how not a Christian one was.      Don’t misunderstand my meaning.  I do not mean to give way to leniency where the Bible is direct about things.  Jesus and His Word is foundational, and discipline is needed.  But I have found in my own walk that I have excused my unforgiveness, justifying it, because I held my pain against the ones who exhibit themselves to be strong Christians.  And yet…many would call me a strong Christian.  And yet…I know in myself; I have my own blindsides.  God was revealing them even in the recent weeks!  And if it is possible for me to find fault in myself, and if I want mercy for my own sin, then it is possible that another Christian, too, hasn’t completed their work of salvation, and they too, need mercy.      This understanding that my unforgiveness held a dirty mirror to my life came to the light when I was studying King David and the situation with Tamar, Amnon, and Absalom (reference: 2 Samuel 13-16, 18:1-18).  I already knew the story line.  Amnon had fallen in love (or perhaps in lust) with his half-sister, Tamar.  After tricking her to feed him, he forced himself upon her and she ran for shelter with her full brother, Absalom.  To say Absalom was TICKED is an understatement. Yet, in preparing for the reading, I asked God what He wanted me to get out of it.     It was true that I felt a twinge of my feminism stir in reading about Tamar’s rape.  Furthermore, the rage that Absalom felt was 100% justified in my mind.  And I was baffled at the silence and inaction of King David (the father of the three adult children).  And yet, taking a couple days in studying it, I was struck with conviction, that as much as I initially sided with Absalom, his subsequent actions stemmed from unforgiveness, and none were God-ordained in righting the wrong.  He murdered his brother, attempted to take the throne from his father, and one of his last unredeemable acts included raping his father’s concubines.  Perhaps his motive for justice was pure, but allowing bitterness to reign free, he eventually became guilty of the very same sin as his half-brother.      Sound familiar?  In holding onto offense, I became guilty of the judgmentalism I hated most.  Sure, it isn’t the same as murdering anyone, starting a coup, or committing sexual assault, but too often we judge behavior, not realizing that different manifestations can be rooted to the same sinful motivation.  I was as Absalom.  I believed that I had to be righted.  But just as Absalom, I am prone to take things into my hand, and allow offense to stir in my heart.  If the one who has authority does nothing, then I will do something myself.  In my case, I would write my personal history with a villain in my story.  And as long as I held onto that narrative, I could do no wrong, for my motivation was to redeem the innocence stolen.      But the villain, realistically, is not a villain.  Like so many people, they are complex.  Even more complex, considering they believe in Jesus.  As much as I wish sanctification was immediate, it is not.  And so, if I need time to become more like Christ, so does the family member who had a reputation of words cutting as daggers.  And even if the villain was a true villain, if God’s heart is for redemption, then I cannot allow my heart to become bitter.     I don’t understand why David was silent.  I wonder if he was trying to give Amnon a chance to repent (as God had done when he had committed adultery and murder concerning Bathsheba).  Maybe he was talking with the Levite priests and trying to gather evidence.  Sadly, at that time, CSI didn’t exist, and so it may have been a case of “he said/she said”.  The Bible doesn’t say if David was active or inactive.  But a note in the ESV says that David didn’t punish Amnon, because he loved him, because he was David’s firstborn.  Whatever the reason, Absalom had a double reason for being angry.  Rightly so.      And yet, why is it that Absalom’s journey ended in devastation and David is still remarked as a man after God’s own heart?  I became confused reading the psalms associated with this case as David brought up his righteousness, and asked for deliverance from the enemy (i.e. Absalom; see Psalm 3 and 4 for examples).  David brought on this trouble because he was silent!  Furthermore, because of his sin with Bathsheba, the prophet Nathan said that trouble would come to David’s house.  So, how could David speak as if he had integrity?      I don’t get it fully.  I won’t say that I have all the answers, especially as sensitive as an issue as the case of Tamar, the daughter of King David.  However, I think the difference between Absalom and David was the manner of repentance and refraining to take things in one’s own hands.  The measure of integrity isn’t being perfect and lacking sin in totality; it is identifying sin, repenting of it, and making amends.  David did that; Absalom did not.  David called himself righteous, not because he was a good father, but he trusted in God’s goodness to be enough where he failed.  And when he failed, he was quick to admit it (see Psalm 38).         When David was confronted with his sin, he repented of it, and would ask that others were spared for his wrong (see 2 Samuel 12:13-17).  Absalom did not see the error of his way, even though he had an initially just motive.  Nevertheless, a just motive bent on revenge will bring a demise.  History has proved that leaders who were bitter turned sour on their own people.  Hatred tainted their purity as just leaders.  This is the danger of unforgiveness: it throws away one’s destiny.      I do want to say that something had to be done with Amnon.  When a wrong is done, it must be made right.  But it also must be done in the right way.  Absalom had a choice.  In his two years of waiting for his dad to do something, maybe Absalom could have talked with his father. “Hey Dad, I know that you love Amnon.  But he hurt your daughter.  I believe you love her too, and you need to stand up for her.  Either you or I will do something, but Amnon cannot get away with this.”  Maybe there was this conversation, and David refused.  That would make this all the more heartbreaking.       But Absalom had a choice.  Even after murdering Amnon, he could have forgiven his father.  Second Samuel states that David was relieved when he heard Amnon was dead (13:38-39).  Perhaps David knew he screwed up.  Maybe he wanted to thank Absalom for taking action when he failed to do so.  The Bible doesn’t list every conversation had, so we’ll have to wait.  But Absalom had a choice to forgive or continue in his bitterness.  He chose to stay in his bitterness, and it proved to be his end.      What does this have to do with my family member?  How am I like Absalom when his story spun out like a revenge story gone bad?  If I do not take careful heed, my unforgiveness will be my demise.  I must identify my own sin in judging someone as different than I, when I could be capable of the same things.  I will believe myself to be without sin, and that is a VERY dangerous place to be in, concerning walking with God.  “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us (1 John 1:8).”  I was deceived in pointing out the person’s sin, because then I was blind to my own sin (which the size of a plank will do!).  I, too, am in need of repentance.  And thankfully, “if anyone sins, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous.  He is the propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only but also for the sins of the world (1 John 2:1-2).”      Now that I have repented, it is important to bring that message of the Gospel to others.  Whether the person before me is saved or not, I am learning that knowing what I have been saved from helps me to extend the mercy that Jesus had afforded to me.  When I see someone’s sin, I am learning to not take things personally, but see it as a sign that the individual doesn’t have a revelation of Christ like I do, in a specific area.  I am learning to pray for that person, rather than trying to work my magic of words and manipulation in order for them to come around.  It is HARD!  But I am trusting that God is at work in their life, and I am inviting Him to do the work that I could never accomplish in the first place.  Vengeance is His, anyways.  So, why not desire for redemption?  Do I really want hell for the offender, anyway?      People are saved in a day, but the fruit of salvation continues to birth for a lifetime.  It is a struggle to be patient; especially when some peoples’ actions and words can cause so much pain to themselves or others.  But they have a choice in how they will walk with Jesus.  All I can do is hope and pray for it.  I do not want to be an Absalom.  I have been given the gift of mercy like David, now I must share it with others.  What else could I do?  For what would I say to myself if I looked in the mirror?