Mine is Bigger Than Yours

There is a completely wonderful book series out there that I could not finish.
It's about four siblings, going on a journey, and one of them sells out the rest for dessert. I never got through the second book, because I was worried that kid was going to do something like that again and I was bothered how his family took him back and all that. Happy Ending.

blah blah

But it made me uncomfortable. Like Pinocchio, the movie makes me sick to my stomach, because I know he's going to lie and almost get his poor lonely Father killed.

I keep asking myself WHY.

WHY could I not get past it, what bothered me about these stories that others seem to enjoy?

It was how the family moved past the wrong doing.

I dug around in my own heart and mind and realized that I had never received forgiveness from another person (that does not mean I was never given it, but I had never received it).

I knew God forgave me, after all, God is Holy. It was all that kept me going in life, knowing He forgave me. Forgot it all. Put my crappiness as far as the East is from the West.



I understood that when I was asked to forgive someone else, it meant making nice; since forgetting what they did was basically impossible. One could try, but it was easier to guard yourself against them, because they would do it again. 
They would.
It was only a matter of time.
You were protecting yourself by doing this. And God required it of you to try and go through the process anyway.
Of which I knew I would fail. How could I erase what had happened and how I felt?


At this point, I had to do some digging.

Digging deeper, growing up, punishment didn't stop at the yelling match with my parents. I was also (excessively) grounded, and during the grounding (no phone, tv, friends etc) my parents were also mad at me. I was being punished after all. I needed to show some shame and remorse. Each day of being grounded I was reminded of why I was being punished.

After the grounding was over, all my privileges were not given back completely, but gradually because I was not off the hook. It felt like it was a waiting game for when (not if) I'd do a, b, or c again.
When I inevitably did a, b or c again, it piled on top of the first offence, the punishment was harsher, my parents were madder

And I felt worse.

This is how I dealt with everything in my life. I was glad and humbled that God would forgive me, but I knew I had no right to let myself off the hook, or to forget what I had done, but to hold it up and learn from it, so I could improve. Why should anyone else in life treat me any different? They might act nice, but I knew they (really) remembered when I had sinned against them. And I felt horrible about it.

I would just have to try harder.

This is how I in turn, treated others. Looking back, I shouldn't have, and now I am sorry for it, but it made sense to me. It's how I deserved to be treated and the only way I knew to treat others.








I carried around what you would call baggage, but what I saw as necessary ammunition (to guard myself). And let me tell you, I was really good at balancing it, because what else was there?




I never really saw a lot of forgiving and forgetting, unless it was by people who continually let people walk all over them, use them. They forgave knowing they would be used again by this 'friend' or 'romantic partner' or 'child' and I did NOT want to be one of those people (enablers).

In my late twenties, I was talking to a friend who told me about something that happened to them that was awful.
Just terrible.
It was unforgivable.
And I asked how they functioned, knowing they could see that person again, what would they do, how would they feel, etc. They said, "I came up with every scenario, but it was easier for me to just let it go."
"Let it go?" I said,  "You can't just let something like that...go."
"It still hurts me every day, but accepting it happened, and moving on was better than the alternative."
I was baffled. They basically said they forgave it.
They didn't ignore it
They didn't pretend like it didn't happen, or sweep it under the rug...no, they forgave and moved past it.

But couldn't only God do that?

I rolled this around my tiny brain for weeks. I didn't think I was capable of this.

I had plans to go to a women's conference for over a year, and at the end of my two weeks of thinking all this over, was the event. I had been ill, but I went anyway. (and I'm glad I did)

One of the topics was about exactly my issue. "Letting it go (in this case, it was my "un-forgiveness") giving it to God, and never picking it up again." I had to ask myself, in this stadium full of women, crying all over each other, could I do this?
I did not know how.
I hardly believed anyone ever truly did forgive.
We were told to turn to the woman next to us, hug them, and ask them to walk away from it (the sin, the thing you went back to again and again that kept you from getting closer to others and God).

I said the words, and I didn't mean it. And it made me cry, because I felt if I let it go, I would be saying what had happened to me was okay. I felt if I let it go, I'd be letting those that hurt me off the hook.

It was definitely NOT okay. I would be disrespecting myself by saying my hurts and what was done was okay. Those people could, and would hurt me again, and it would be weak of me to let them.

When I returned to Portland, I began to follow the speakers blog/newsletter. As I read the following newsletter it read something like this to my tiny brain, though the words were probably very, very different:

"Dear Sister,

I told you to drop it. I meant it. God loves you and He will heal it, so do it. I'm going to be honest, it IS a process and I'm begging you to begin it now."

I'm not going to lie, those bags were damn heavy, and I began to drop them. Then I'd turn around and realize I'd picked them up again and then have to put them back down...again. Day after day, after week after month after year.

I had to really understand that "I forgive you" did NOT mean what happened to me was okay, it didn't make the pain, or what had happened go away, but by giving it to God, it unburdened me and freed me from the weight on my heart.

I had probably heard that dozens of times, and I thought to myself, "yeah, that makes sense, but I can't do it." 

I'd heard it was bad theology as well. If Christ died for all sin--if He truly died for me--then by me saying 'I can't/won't forgive' or 'I can't/won't let this go' I'm saying Christ isn't enough.

I didn't feel that was true, but now that I have forgiven, I know that by me saying "I WILL NOT LET THIS GO", I was throwing pain in God's face. I was saying "Christ's blood is not enough, I have to do more, I'd rather hold onto this than accept freedom from it."

I had put my un-forgiveness first over Christ's gift of freedom. For, in reality, my un-forgiveness was my false freedom.  It allowed me to store up all that ammunition that was necessary to protect myself and not need to depend on anybody for anything.

To be fair, it's only been in the past year or so and even more specifically in the last few months that I have actually turned around and seen bags missing.

Gone.                              

I turn around and see that a few are still in my hand, but not the whole pile I was used to. I can stare back at my path and see when they may have disappeared, and it is freeing!

It's been something like a seven year process since I read that letter.

Today I am more free than I was yesterday. What more can I ask for?

I suppose it might be nice every time it comes up in my heart or life, to be able to go to each person and say, 'Wow, I'm sorry I acted this way or did this'. Or, 'When you did this, it still makes me feel...' but we don't often get that in life.

We are forced to move on.

Sometimes, like in my situation, those that hurt us the most want to sweep what was done under the rug, and never discuss it again."It's over/it's in the past/I said I'm sorry/Get over it." They say.

It's as if I should pretend what happened can't affect me now. This can make me feel like they are saying my feelings are invalid, unnecessary. As if I can't be upset if we act like it didn't happen.

We all know pain is never temporary. Pain, hurt feelings, abuse (physical, verbal, mental, sexual, emotional) bubble up in many forms throughout our life.






This is a root of a struggle that I am dealing with, but no longer on my own. No, not on my own ever again, but with Christ, because He is willing and able, and with Him, I actually heal. 

I never thought it was possible, but now that I know it is, I refuse to go back to the daily pain.