From my forthcoming memoir, “Masterpiece: A Love Story”
It is easy to believe only what we see with our eyes. I was trained to do that as a journalist. Note facts, reason out conclusions from them and proceed accordingly. Everything, everything in that mindset must be subject to reason and logic. The unreasonable, if unknowable, is unthinkable.
But faith in God changed that for me. Today, it is unthinkable to submit myself to reason alone. Instead, reason is a tool that is best wielded by a hand bearing the Truth. Now, it is reasonable to think about the unknowable and be happy in the mystery.
“’Tis the Season to be Jolly”, the
song says. For many of us Christmas is jolly and joyful, but it can
also be full of rush, pressure, expectation, a need to perform, and
an undercurrent that something is not quite right somehow, as though
Santa is about to drop the other boot.
This is not another cliché essay about
the joy of the season, rather about something messy and demanding. It
is about the greatest gift we can give at Christmas, a gift we give
It’s the gift of forgiveness, a gift that always, always benefits the giver.
Please resist believing the lie that
says you have to get even. There is no value in getting even, only in
getting free. It is a simple act; it is not always an easy act, but
you can do it, and it will change your life.
We start the journey of forgiveness in
places like: “If you only knew what he did to me…” “What
happened was unforgivable…” “She has to pay for this…” “I
can never forgive.”
Please, never say
“never”, because you will forego a transformational experience.
Forgiveness of others can be a
difficult, demanding and painful thing. I know. I have had grudges
and resentments that I bore for years before choosing to unburden
myself. I use the word “unburden” deliberately because a lack of
forgiveness is simply that – a burden, a weight, a drag, friction.
To better understand, imagine me
walking along having just finished all my Christmas shopping in one
On my left shoulder is a large bag, the
long strap of which is over my head to keep it from slipping away. My
arm hangs over it in an uncomfortable arc, supporting a hand that
grips another shopping bag, this one hanging low and heavy to the
left of my left knee. These stuffed satchels would have me leaning
hard left if it were not for the oversized weighty sack I’m
desperately clutching with my right hand as a counterbalance.
Meanwhile, I am kept from being hunched over from these burdens by a
giant rucksack weighing heavily on my back. It appears to keep me
over my center of balance, but that is an illusion. What it actually
does is weigh me down, creating additional pressure.
This is the picture I want you to have when I speak of bearing a grudge or carrying a resentment. Grudges are heavy things, and they get heavier over time; their inertia increases, as though some sort of scale builds up on them, a crust that refuses to flake off. It is as though gravity increases where they are present. They are weighty matters. Don’t take them lightly.
Can you see this? Here I am, not
skipping along, not striding purposefully, not even merely walking
really. Because of what I choose to carry, I am trudging, perhaps
even plodding, or slogging. This is no good way to live.
Is it any wonder we speak of ‘personal baggage’ when describing this? Baggage is something we carry that has our “stuff” in it. When we travel on an airliner, we are restricted to both the size and weight of the baggage we can carry. Too much of either and the plane would burst at the seams, or simply not be airworthy. An apt metaphor for us as we journey through life with this junk!
What is in this baggage that I tote
resolutely and stolidly, refusing to relinquish? Remember, in my
shopping metaphor, I spent an entire day ‘spending good money’ –
investing, as it were, in these things. If they are a good
investment, they will increase in value. But how can a grudge
increase in value?
Well, here’s the truth of it. It can’t.
It has no value in the first place. And anything times zero equals
This begs this question: at what point
do I cut my losses and divest? Why is divestment beneficial? And what
are the risks, if any?
Here is the upside: It makes my life,
and my heart, lighter. Without carrying baggage, I can pay more
attention to what is in front of me and enjoy it for what it is,
instead of being on the lookout for obstacles. When I carry so much
weight, the risk of a drop, a stumble or a fall is so great, there is
no opportunity to stop being on the defensive.
Over time, without forgiveness, life
then becomes a balancing act, full of deliberate steps not toward
anything joyful, but away from or around anything which could
possibly be harmful or painful. I live in lack, not abundance.
Can you see the trap in this? Until I
lay down the burden, I cannot feel free and easy, not ever, not for
one moment. I always carry the weight of it, and have to live life
around it. Sure, I can pretend it is not there, but pretense itself
only becomes more mass in the sack. And so it goes.
It is also very bad for my heart and puts needless pressure on it, as though I were obese, carrying so much extra weight I cannot function the way I was made, and my body’s systems break down one by one.
But – danger: divestiture can be
painful. If you have ever held something tightly in your hand for too
long, it can hurt to unclench the muscles. The path of least
resistance is to leave it alone. It hurts because letting go means
laying down the ego long enough to admit I was wrong (even if only to
myself). Remember where we started?
“If you only knew what he did to
me…” “What happened was unforgivable…” “She has to pay
for this…” “I can never forgive.”
The things we tell ourselves over and over become the elephant in the room. Living with an elephant in the room is messy and claustrophobic, but we get used to it. Worse – we become blinded to it’s presence, just as we become so used to the unhealthy ‘weight’ we carry, we cannot imagine living without it.
But if the elephant disappears, how do
I clean up its mess and use all the space that is created? The beauty
of true forgiveness is that the space immediately becomes empty and
clean, as though the mess has been removed of its own accord.
Christmas should be a season of
forgiveness, and the miracle of Christmas is that this freedom is
very near. It is right on the other side of one simple act.
Here it is: declare aloud, and mean
it, “I forgive [you,
him, her, Uncle Bob, that nasty boss I had, such-and-such church,
Politician X] for the things [he/she/they] did to me or the ones I
love [enumerate them specifically],
and I absolutely refuse to carry the burden of them any more.”
it. And refuse to go back there. If you do this, you will be free,
you will be lighter, and life will get better.
Most important of all, you will participate in the gift God gave us at Christmas – forgiveness of our sin – forgiveness of all the things we do that separate us from Him. We can’t help those things. No matter how good we think we are, or how much we do, we can never be good enough to be forgiven, because only God is perfect. And only He can grant us forgiveness for living in a state short of perfection. This He can do, through the birth, life, sacrifice, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
So please take His gift, this greatest of all gifts, and then say a simple “thank You.” He’s waiting.