I forget sometimes. I forget that we are all human. That we bleed. That there are things that wound us far deeper than blades or falls or car crashes... I forget. For that, I am guilty. I forget that my enemies see through hearts just as broken, just as fallible, and just as tender as my own. I forget that they want to be loved, too. Seen, too. Wanted, too.
It's easy to tear someone down, isn't it? The right glance can say a thousand words of hatred. The right words can lead to a thousand tears. Making an enemy is easy. Keeping an enemy? Probably even easier... we are not built for forgiveness. Which is what makes knowing Jesus so hard . It's hard to turn a cheek, walk an extra mile, dine with an enemy... pray for an enemy. Forgiveness is a difficult yoke. It is weighty.
But, fueling the fire might just be more costly. And I am certainly guilty of fueling fires. There are furnaces with my name on them. Entire forests demolished because of my own cruelty. There is a poison in my being that is nourished by the destruction of others-- not physically-- but perhaps far more damaging. I am not built for forgiveness. Which is what makes knowing Jesus so necessary. It's hard to wash the feet of those who betray you... but dragging them through the mud simply makes us all dirty.
It is easier to forget, sometimes. It is easier to spit on my enemies than it is to pray for them. Easier to build up my wall of words, of slights, of imperfections against them... than it is to love them. Love is vulnerable, gentle, close-- it doesn't belong in the hands of those who could so easily pervert it. Which is what makes knowing Jesus so humbling-- because that is exactly where Jesus placed his love. In the hands of the one who betrayed him. I am not built for forgiveness, but Jesus embodied it. And following Jesus means following all of who he was-- not just the parts I like the best, or the parts that make me look shiny... and to embrace Jesus, I must embrace forgiveness. Being broken and having the self-control to let it happen.-- and then, do the unthinkable: love in spite of all that has been said, or done, or both.
I am not built for forgiveness. But I believe in the One who was. And I ache to know what it means to follow him... perhaps it begins with praying for the people I would rather drag through the mud.
