Some of my brothers in the blogosphere know that I’ve been struggling recently with issues of sanctification, specifically trying to get rid of a darkness that has plagued my heart for a little while. Initially, I nursed the dark thoughts – not recognizing them (or not wanting to) for what they are.
When it dawned on me that such darkness is not befitting a child of Light, I sought to be rid of it. But when I asked God to pluck the darkness from my heart before it ever became those thoughts again in my mind, it didn’t happen. My thoughts returned, even though I began to be repulsed by them. And yet, they came. And persisted.
I was struggling all the harder trying to plead with God to remove them from me, even to the point of tears begging Him not to leave me to myself. It appeared to me like an endless battle. I couldn’t understand why God wasn’t sanctifying me when it seemed it would be a good and right thing to clear my head and heart of such evil. Why wasn’t God removing these thoughts from me?
In church, the pastor expounded a bit on forgiveness. In discussing a passage in 2 Corinthians 2:5-11, where Paul was advising the church of Corinth how to deal with a fallen brother, our pastor spoke about how
we can only forgive when we understand the depth of how we have been forgiven. The depth and severity of our own rebellion against God, our own hatred and enmity toward His Son, our selfish prideful ways in desiring to be our own god, and everything – absolutely every “little” thing – for which we’ve been forgiven.
“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”
- Matthew 6:14-15
It occurred to me as our pastor was speaking that some of
the root of my dark thoughts were directly linked to a lack of forgiveness on my part toward another. And because of that, these thoughts could not leave me.
It also occurred to me that I was not forgiving because I live without taking stock either of
the enormity of the sin for which I myself have been forgiven or the cost beyond measure of what it took to forgive me.
If I recognize the depth and breadth and width of my sin toward God and the absolutely fall-on-your-face breathtaking cost for His forgiveness of my sin, then and only then will I be able to extend the same mercy and forgive others – no matter what I see or hear. No matter the offense. Because ultimately, all the offense or wrong directed my way is sin against God.
“
Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight,”
- Psalm 51:4a
If I look closer at that root of unforgiveness in myself, I see it is nourished by pride. And that is not of God. My pride feeding my unforgiveness ultimately bringing forth flowers of evil, dark thoughts.
Confessing the thoughts isn’t enough. I must forgive. But I am only able – by God’s grace – to forgive if I truly and deeply understand the depth of my own sin against God and His Son. Only when I recognize how much I’ve been forgiven and the cost to do so, can I let go of the anger, the root of bitterness, the ugliness, and the pain that keeps me in bondage.
It’s not an overnight work. But as the Lord continues to open my eyes and my heart to His truth, I can see that great depth of my rebellion. How
very undeserving I am of any of His mercy and grace. How callous and prideful I can be.
When Mel Gibson made his movie “The Passion of the Christ,” he was interviewed and asked the question, “Who killed Jesus?,” to which he replied (in essence): “I did. That is why I used my hands for the scene when the nails were driven into His hands.”
Do I see myself this way? Do I remember that every single prideful thought I have or ever had pierced His brow and drove blood down into His eyes? Do I take stock of the fact that those “little” infractions of my youth ripped Jesus’ back open wide with the Roman cat-o-nine-tails? Do I weigh the price of my foolish young adulthood against the slow walk through Jerusalem and to Golgotha, carrying a cross so heavy under a body so broken it could not make the destination without help? And do I remember that the nails that tore the flesh and sinew of the One I love did so to bear the price of my own sin against God?
Can I remember His forgiveness every day – so that I too may learn to
truly forgive?
When I learn this, I believe I shall no longer carry the burden of my dark thoughts.
“For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."
- Matthew 11:30
Labels: forgiveness