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+---- Thread: A cup of Forgiveness (/Thread-A-cup-of-Forgiveness)
A cup of Forgiveness - Pronkertjie - 23-03-2005
This will be a little bit long, but for it to make sense, I think I'll type the whole chapter
...He leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Psalm 23:3
It was an unbelievably beautiful morning in the spring. A golden sun was climbing in a brilliant blue, cloudless sky, and the sunlight sparkled in the cool air. Bob and I had decided to have our breakfast out on the patio, where our little fountain was dancing amid containers of pansies and mums.
Smiling at each other, we drank our orange juice and enjoyed the quiet beginning of a perfect day. Little curls of steam rose from our freshly buttered muffins as Bob read a page from a devotional for husbands and wives. We each enjoyed a cantaloupe half as we chatted about the grandchildren and the garden. Then, as we lingered over our fragrant cups of coffe, Bob pulled out our jar of Mom's Canned Questions.
A friend of ours developed this wonderful little product, which we sell at our More Hours in My Day seminars. It's really just a decorated jar full of little slips of paper, but each slip contains a question designed to stimulate thought and discussion. We use it often when we have company and when we are by ourselves, and the questions have brought us both tears and laughter as they helped us know each other better.
As usual, Bob drew out a question and passed the jar to me. I reached in and pulled out a slip. And then I seemed to feel dalk clouds rolling in to block the sunshine as I read my question. My impulse was to say "Forget it" and stuff that little slip of paper back in the jar.
What was on the paper?
Just this: "What would you do if you could spend one day with your dad?"
Such a simple uestion. But the mories it evoked had the power to fill my cup with pain and anger and resentment.
You see, my dad was a brilliant man, a creative Viennese chef. He used to get standing ovations for the food he prepared. From what I'm told, he doted on me as a little child, and I've inherited some of his creativity in the kitchen.
And yet my dad was also a raging alcoholic. Living in our home meant always living on edge, never knowing when he might explode. One wrong word from any of us, and the spaghetti sauce would be dumped down the toilet or down the sink; the pots and pans would be whipped off the stove and the plates off the table. There would be shouting; there would be arguments. And although my father never physically abused me, he did take his rage out on my mother and brother.
In response to my father's rage, I almost gave up talking. If saying the wrong thing could trigger and explosion, I reasoned perhaps it was better not to say anything at all. So I became intensely introverted and fearful, and I wished my father dead many times. When I was eleven, he really did die, leaving a cloud of guilt and resentment that hung over my life long after I thought I had forgotten.
Even after my dad died, I still didn't talk much. When I met Bob and we began dating, he used to say to me, "Emilie, you've got to talk." And then so many wonderful things began to happen in my life. The most important was that Bob introduced me to Jesus, and I became a Christian. Then Bob asked me to marry him, and my Jewish mama (who was very wise) surprised me by giving her consent. Relatives critized her for letting her precious seventeen-year-old marry a Gentile, but my mama sensed that Bob could give the the love and stability I needed.
... continue
A cup of Forgiveness - Pronkertjie - 23-03-2005
..... Through it all, I didn't think all that much about my dad. He was in my past, which I had put behind me. I was a Christian, and I know I was supposed to forgive others. I read in the Bible that we had to forgive if God were going to forgive us. So yes, I forgave my dad -- or so I thought.
And then on day Florence Littauer invited me to go to a seminar that her friend Lana Bateman was conducting ast a nearby hotel. I didn't really know what it was about, only that Florence thought it would be good for anyone. So I just walked into the hotel room... and almost immediately the tears began to flow.
The spirit of God had prepared my heart for a remarkable experience in coming to terms with my pas and growing closer to him. Part of what I realized that weekend was that I still had a lot of pain concerning my father. I thought I had forgiven him when I had reallyu only boxed up my anger and resentment and stored it away - like sealing a bunch of toxic waste in a barrel and burying it underround. In order truly to forgive, I had to bring out that anger and resentment and actually hand them over to God, trusting him to take them away from me.
That weekend I began the process of truly forgiving my father and letting God restore my relationship with him. I admitted to myself that I needed healing. Even though my dad was long dead, I wrote him a long letter, pouring out both my love and my fury. I confessed the anger and bitterness I had held onto for so long without even knowing it was there.
All this was hard work. It demanded all my courage, all my energy. But what a difference that weekend made in my life. I poured out my cup of resentment. I let the Lord wash it bright and clean, and then I knew the awestruck wonder of having my cup filled to the brim with sparkling forgiveness - forgiveness for my father, and forgiveness for myself. What a wonderful feeling! I was clean, washed clean, drinking from a clean cupl.
But that was not the end of the story.
Not long afterward, someone mentioned my father. And I was shocked to recognize the quick flash of anger, the stubborn, involuntary clenching of my jaw. The resentment was still there, or it had come back.
What was going on? Was that whole difficult weekend in vain?
Hadn't I emptied my cup of bitterness and let God fill it with forgiveness?
Oh yes!
The forgivenss I experienced that weekend was real., But now I was learning something very important about my cup of forgiveness.
It leaks!
For most of us, most of the time, forgiveness is an ongoing process, not a "done deal". Forgiveness is an absolute necessity for healthy living, the onlyknow antidote to the bitterness and resentment and anger that flow naturally and abundantly when selfish human beings rub up agains other selfish human beings.
But my cup of forgiveness seems to be one of the leakiest cups I own. It can be brimming over one day and empty the next - or refilled with bitter resentment over the same hurt I thought I had forgiven. In fact, I can quickly accumulate enough pain and hurt and resentment to fill several cups, stacked up and precariously balanced.
All this can be discouraging.
"God, I thought I had let go of that!"
"God, I really want to forgive. Why is it so hard?"
But it can also be a source of faith, a reminder that we mjust keep going back to our forgiving Father for this cleansing elixir. We can't manufacture it ourselves; it always comes by the grace of God.
.... continue
A cup of Forgiveness - Pronkertjie - 23-03-2005
I'll fastforward a little bit.....
You see, despite the dark cloud in my sould that darkened the breakfast sunshine that morning with Bob, I really was learning to fill my cup with forgiveness. And when I read that difficult question from the jar. I felt some pain, but I did have an anwer.
What would I do if I could spend a day with my dad?
First of all, I would take his hand, and we would walk and talk. "Remember, daddy?" I would say, and we would reminisce about when I was a little girl. "Remember the times you would set me up on the counter next to you while you worked? Remember when you'd take me through those big doors into the kitchens full of those great, shining pots and pans?" I always felt so proud when my daddy would introduce me to the chefs as his little girl. I always felt so safe when he held my hand.
"And, oh daddy, I'm so sorry!" I'd tell my dad if I could spend a day with him. "I'm sorry for all the terrible things that happened to you, all the things that hurt you and made you the way you were." And I'd say, " Daddy, I know why you drank. I know why you were full of fury. You had so much pain in your heart, in your cup - from being abondoned when your parents died and being raised in the kitchen in the palace of Vienna. And you have so much pain from being a Jew in Nazi-occupied Austria, and having to change your name to escape, and fighting in the ward and being shot three times."
If I could spend a day with my dad, I would't want to deny the pain that he caused me. It was real, and I've learned that denying real pain hinders forgiveness instead of helping it. But I would also want to tell my dad that I love him.
And more than anything else, I would want to tell my dad that we have a heavenly Father who can cover the hurt and pain and take it from us. I would want him to know, more than anything else, my dearest friend, the Messiah, the Lord Jesus, the One who said "Forgive, and you will be forgine" (Luke 6:37)
Forgiveness works, even when you can't tell it's working. Even when you don't feel forgiven or don't feel forgiving.
And forgiveness works no matter what the forgiveness issues are in your life.
Perhaps your spouse has been unfaithful or your son has adopted a lifestyle you cannot approve. perhaps a friend has said something cruel behind your back or a colleague has attacked you publicly. Perhaps you are struggling with ongoing bitterness over somthing that happned years ago.
Or perhaps you need forgiveness for yourself. Perhaps you are overwhelmed with guilt or simply miserable because a relationship has been ruptured. Perhaps you are furious with yourself over a thoughtless remark, or you are beginning to be convicted of a hidden sin that you from fellowship with God.
Whatever in your life is causing you pain, you don't need to let resentment fill your cup. Above all, you don't need tohold on the the bitter brew.
:hartlik: