I’d like to spend a good amount of time studying the art of forgiveness. This is probably the most important component of humanity. Anger is a parasite—literally transforming our “helper” cells into a virus, and it’ll continue to replicate until it kills its host and infects others. Only by Jesus does true forgiveness work. We must die to the world to truly live. One of my favorite teachers, Pastor Steve, jokes about baptism, “We’ll hold you under for a while”. I was only held under for a few, quick seconds, and the water was warm and a towel and changing area were near. August 6, 2006. I chose life. We are forgiven even if we aren’t dunked. And I don’t feel particularly compelled to throw baseballs at a tiny target to get you
r seat pulled out from under you so your butt gets dropped abruptly into the water. Everyone sitting in that chair is wondering, “Why did I volunteer for this?” They wouldn’t be in that chair if there wasn’t an audience prepared to applaud.
I was happy to take the tank out of the equation and happy to make the public declaration. However, the whole event was rather comfortable. And chlorinated. Frankly, it is in each moment that forgiveness becomes a forefront, emotional priority (and battle) that I am re-immersed—though, these times in a chilly, brackish, murky river. The shore is rocky and I am barefoot. I never thought to bring a towel. My wet clothes stick to me and the wind blows through the fabric. It starts to rain as I walk back home. I forget the sun ever does shine because I need it now to dry me and warm me but it’s not here. I will get home, though. I will get dry, warm up, and heal. And it’ll feel so good that I did it. I made it home again. And it was hard. But He is there. This home has a firm foundation.
I am trying. The water was my way to say that. I’ll walk with you to the river but I won’t push you to the tank.
r seat pulled out from under you so your butt gets dropped abruptly into the water. Everyone sitting in that chair is wondering, “Why did I volunteer for this?” They wouldn’t be in that chair if there wasn’t an audience prepared to applaud.I was happy to take the tank out of the equation and happy to make the public declaration. However, the whole event was rather comfortable. And chlorinated. Frankly, it is in each moment that forgiveness becomes a forefront, emotional priority (and battle) that I am re-immersed—though, these times in a chilly, brackish, murky river. The shore is rocky and I am barefoot. I never thought to bring a towel. My wet clothes stick to me and the wind blows through the fabric. It starts to rain as I walk back home. I forget the sun ever does shine because I need it now to dry me and warm me but it’s not here. I will get home, though. I will get dry, warm up, and heal. And it’ll feel so good that I did it. I made it home again. And it was hard. But He is there. This home has a firm foundation.
I am trying. The water was my way to say that. I’ll walk with you to the river but I won’t push you to the tank.
See Matthew 18:21-22 (Jesus is being funny)
I have been trying to work viewing other people as forgiven like I am, like I said trying, sometimes it is a little harder than others. It does help, they are after all just one step away. It does seem that somewhere it says... "if you forgive others of their sin it is forgiven..." it seems through Jesus we have been given an awesome God-like power. We are after all His children and are like Him.
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