Poison or Forgiveness
"Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you."
Colossians 3:13
Dear Friends,
Sitting on the floor with my back leaning against Jason’s and surrounded by my church leaders and friends, I had settled into the discomfort of being prayed over so purposefully. They placed hands on us both, weighty with intention and intimately close with the deepest care. That past year and half, I’d been living with daily, hourly, sometimes minute by minute forgiveness from betrayal and abandonment by a covenantal friendship. My whispered prayers through gritted teeth every day felt like a joke—I wanted to forgive but annoyingly couldn’t. And, honestly, it felt a little good hanging onto that bitterness, like I had some control in the situation that gutted me.
On the bathroom cabinet shelf above the toilet in my childhood home stood a wooden cut-out of a bear’s face. In the middle was a mirror and written below was, “Bear with each other and forgive as the Lord forgave you.” Colossians 3:13 was the verse that impacted me most in my life. When I had to chose a life verse in high school, this was the one I chose. Forgiveness, reconciliation, and ridiculous grace is part of who I am where I’ve had to learn boundaries to not be taken advantage by the toxic behaviors of others.
Anne Lamott once wrote that “Not forgiving is like drinking rat poison and waiting for the rat to die.”
God has mercifully forgiven me for the harm and neglect I’ve caused myself, other people, and this planet and God mercifully invites me to begin again, to start over, to live differently once I know differently. This is grace. This is forgiveness. This is restoration. This is what healthy community looks like: forgiveness.
As my leaders and friends prayed over me that night we sat on the floor, I was skeptical of God’s mercy. I’m not a supernaturally inclined person and tend to make excuses for unexplainable things. Elizabeth and Nick began praying for the cross of Christ to come between and begin to separate this fused-painful-friendship. As they prayed I was flooded with heat, and though my eyes were closed, a bright-piercing light felt blinding within them. It felt like time paused as I was held, cared for, and loved by Christ in the deepest, most palpable way. In that paused-heated-held place, I incredulously and honestly prayed, “What the f#$%, God? Is this really happening?”
I had trudged through a bitter wilderness for almost two years, frustrated to still carry a burden I didn’t want any longer but also clinging to the control it falsely brought me. And when I was honest about what happened and how it affected me, I wasn’t shamed by my friends or belittled for being an unforgiving pastor. I was held, cared for, prayed over, and set free.
No longer was I dying from the poison of unforgiveness that I daily consumed.
Restoration wasn’t the hope in this wilderness of mine but forgiveness was. And still is. And I am grateful everyday.
So, may the cross of Christ come between you and the poison you might be drinking today and always. And may you be set free to forgive as the Lord forgave you.
With (love),
Bethany