Thursday, September 15, 2011

Forgiving

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”

Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times." (Matthew 18:21-22)
During the school year, I attend a mid-week Methodist prayer meeting on the campus across the street from work.  We get together to read a passage from the lectionary three times, share briefly about what speaks to us from that passage, sing a song, and pray for ourselves and the world.  The chaplains who lead this meeting are well aware that I am a Quaker and, though it is not my tradition, I enjoy the liturgy.

Yesterday, we read the passage from Matthew on how many times we should forgive someone who sins against us.  It is a familiar passage, and I had always understood those verses to mean that we should forgive our brother each time he sins against us.

That's hard.  

But as I listened to the verses and then read them aloud myself, I heard them a different way.  I realized that I also need to keep forgiving another person who has wronged me for the same thing.

It is so much easier to forgive someone than to keep forgiving them.  I will forgive someone for something and think I am over it, but then later (sometimes months later!), I will feel angry and hurt again about whatever it was that happened.

Letting go is hard.  Forgiving over and over is hard.  But maybe if I do it seventy-seven times, it will actually stick.

3 comments:

  1. You're right, that is hard! Maybe one of the hardest things to do. Time can fade the injury, or give me time to reflect on it and decide I was far more wronged than I initially thought. And then, how often that fills me with anger. I have been treated so unfairly! Yet if I work at letting go, I find myself much happier...

    It's interesting that, for me, an anger followed rather than let go, lingers rather than being satisfied. The memory I take away from the situation is one of being wronged and of making sure the world knew it. The story I end with is one in which I was injured. Carrying that kind of narrative around doesn't make me a gentler, kinder, more spiritual person. It clouds my judgment and deafens me to the still small voice.

    Thanks for posting this, Friend.

    ReplyDelete

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