The Two-Sided Coin

Forgiveness can be tough. A tough subject. A tough action. A tough follow through. Forgiveness is given, taken, requested, offered, disregarded, judged, chosen, deemed disingenuous, joyfully restorative, the journey to reconciliation, rejected.

I’ve done it all. I’ve received it all. Been surprised by it all. Been not surprised at all by it all. Asked for it. Given it. Been told my apology and request for forgiveness wasn’t genuine, and therefore rejected. And equally I have simply stared into the face of one requesting it of me, I am sure.

I half jokingly, half seriously, have said on more than one occasion in the last six years, that I have “been on my apology world tour,” all the while being met with varying responses, varying levels of retort, all creating varying levels of self-reflection. I fail time and time again. Fall flat in my delivery, responses, and expectations.

Forgiveness is a two way street. We must ask for it. We must give it. We must especially give it after we have asked for it and been rejected.

That’s when it is, perhaps, most difficult.

To not let the rejection of your request breed a heart of anger, discontentedness, bitterness, or anything else you could decide to let fester, so that you’d have to apologize yet again for something the other person doesn’t even know you’ve conjured up.

It gets complicated. And sticky.

And here I am, stuck in the mire like a turtle in mud. Offering apologies and being rejected and having to forgive that person for not giving me forgiveness. See what I mean about messy?

And the flip side. Harboring something toward someone when they don’t even know it. I’m dealing with that one heavily right now. You see, I have/had a friend who is a pastor, his entire family are in the pastoral way, and when I divorced not a single one of them reached out to me. Not a single one of them asked what they could do to help. Not a single one of them offered prayer, assistance, counseling, or even a “kiss my foot” as my mama always says. Nothing. Just complete shearing of their relationship with me, because they believed what they believed and made no attempt to hear anything else.

Doesn’t seem very Christlike to me.

But, ultimately that’s not my issue. Not my problem. Not my heartburn.

What is, however, is how I handle it. How I handle being cut off. How I handle knowing they believe half of a story. How I handle not holding bitterness in my heart towards them.

It’s a work in progress.

Mostly it just hurts.

But it also makes me get that blasted old mirror out and look at myself. No doubt I’ve unwittingly done the same to someone else. I would like to think not, but we’d all be fooling ourselves if we didn’t put ourselves in that category. We are none innocent, and I am the drum major to that parade.

Have you ever said, “she owes me an apology!”? Have you ever stopped to think they don’t even know you feel that way? Maybe they don’t even know they’ve offended or wronged you. Maybe you’ve taken offense to something they didn’t mean to offend you with. Maybe you’re wrong and actually need to ask for forgiveness. Maybe it’s all really, really sticky.

I do know about myself that I don’t say things I don’t mean, and I do mean what I say, and I have a long way to go on this gravel covered, shards of glass, hot ground asphalt road I’m on. And it all cuts deep.

I have written letters, emails, texts, to those that have come to mind over the last few years as I’ve been reminded of how I have hurt them, said things, acted. And even sent letters to folks who could not have cared less, didn’t even notice I wasn’t around, didn’t care they hadn’t spoken to me, but I felt deeply that I should apologize for the distance, my responses, or whatever I’ve done to offend them.

I’d say I’m running at about a 20% forgiveness rate. Most folks have rejected my apologies. But again, I don’t think that’s our responsibility. We each have to walk out our own side of the forgiveness coin, and then throw that coin in the fountain and walk away.

I don’t think there’s ever really any end to this personal journey – at least not for me. Maybe you’re more advanced than I. More power to ya. But right now? Please excuse me while I go write a couple more letters.