The Thing You Want...

...but don't want to give.

Welcome to part two of a story from You Saw Me, You Were There - a series about how God sees all that you’re going through even if you don’t have the proof…yet.

Read part one here… the set up is important.

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…You cannot heal without forgiveness.

Oh, it is the grizzly bear of Truth. I can just feel some of you angry at me for even suggesting such a thing. For how can you listen without thinking of your own personal, you know, thing…that person? We all have ‘em… at varying levels. But can you get through life unscathed? I mean if your list of those who you needed to forgive was a pile of dirty, soiled laundry, how many baskets would you have to fill? How long would those little wires have to be for hanging them out to dry? How many clothes pins would you need?

So fast forwarding from tweener/teener to middle age, there was a particular Lent when I had decided I was going to pray… a lot. Pray and journal and listen. Well, watch out when you do that, Friend. I’m here to tell you it will change your life.

Guess who popped up on that prayer list.

I mean… just… yuck.

But we hear stories like this all the time. People who visit prisons and forgive their son’s murderer. We read stories of what seem to be insurmountable obstacles of forgiveness – all heart surgery, quadruple by-passes, performed the Great Physician.

The first thing I knew… was that I wouldn’t be able to do it. Nuh-uh. No. Lord, I cannot do this. Remember those wee little boxes at the back of the closet? Yeah, I also remember the story of Pandora and what was in that box. I don’t want to think about it, remember it, pray on it, much less see that face in my mind or dredge up what is in the past. (Whine, moan, argue, plead, ignore! [Repeat.])

But it wasn’t in the past.

No matter how much I shrank those boxes in the upper shelf of that closet.

But God (in his mercy…?) brought it right up to the surface to put it to rest once and for all.

After a long whiny-winded one-sided argument, I resolved to pray. I prayed imperfectly, shortly, without a stitch of eloquence. Drab, really. Unconvincing. Honestly, I’m not even sure there was a mustard seed of a mustard seed of faith.

I just showed up. There were many rosaries and traditional prayers as well for which I am grateful for I did not have my own words. And there were groanings of, well if I’m frank, a kind of grossness. Groanings of gross, this is gross, make it go away – but again, showing up. And the Holy Spirit works with those groanings. But for the most part, it was sort of a blanket statement that I was willing to do this thing. I really had no idea how I’d know if what I’d been doing was working other than maybe I’d stop thinking about it.

Then one day, in silence, unexpectedly, God took it over - and away - from me.

What happened next was a vision. How do I know it was a vision? In my estimation, a vision is given to you. It’s not something you imagine willfully. It is bestowed, often in images you could or would never have created on your own. And it helps also to know that I had no desire to envision or visualize anything regarding this issue.

In addition, this vision occurred while in prayer … in my prayer closet.

In. My. Closet.

Because God does not heal half-way. He takes every single bit. He takes it all. So whatever and wherever the enemy was a thief, God would reclaim for me – on my behalf – in the most personal singular way.

So this healing WILL take place - in the closet.

The vision unfolded. I saw the perpetrator taken to the foot of the cross. I was there watching it happen from a remote distance. And it must be explained that it felt like I was given a place to stand and watch for what was happening was not because of anything I could do or make happen. Sort of like an assigned position. I saw the offender before the cross on his knees; his head down as if having been scourged. Limp. Motionless. The weather dark and foreboding. I heard a loud CRACK and the earth shake, though I didn’t experience the effects of it. And then, as quickly as I’d arrived, I was suddenly taken, arm in arm, flanked by two angels, who swiftly flew me away to the Via Dolorosa – The Way of The Cross. How do I know this? I just do. And I was placed there in safe landing.

Then I heard the loudest, deepest, reverberating CLANG. A giant sword removed from the heart of Mary, Our Lady of Sorrows, representing one of my deepest sorrows so profound that it had penetrated her own heart for years. The weight removed and dropped with a resounding echoing clang.

And much like in a dream where you know things without being outwardly told, I was made to know that this was DONE. OVER. The work was finished and accomplished, and it was not for me to achieve anything anymore. I had done my part. The rest belonged to God. I had been released to safety. To freedom.

And I must tell you it was true. For I would be unable to share this with you had I not been healed. An understatement of the ages would be that forgiveness is not easy. But what this experience taught me, that I had not learned from any book or worldly forgiveness “influencer”, is that forgiveness does not look or feel the same way every time. Forgiveness is for God to move through you, just as much as love is for God to be activated through you. So an opening, a Way, must be made for forgiveness to function. Put another way, forgiveness isn’t a checklist of emotions and to-dos that when you reach then end you win the lottery of peace. It is a willing partnership with God who will take on the heavy weight. I believe this now. But because of habitual defenses and understandable triggers we find ourselves running the same recordings, that we have to do it, that it condones bad behavior, that it means “I have to be friends with her!?” etc… etc…. We remain closed – Mi corazón está cerrado, Bebé¹.

In this case, it was strongly conveyed, more like an order, not to remain in the presence of this situation anymore. The lines had been severed. And in obedience and the grace of God I was given the gift of freedom and told to take it.

It feels good. It feels weightless.

Light.

And in that obedience, and gratitude, I won’t go back. I have been not only given permission, but directed, to keep away.

What love.

What about those lies? What about all the people involved? I mean, aren’t you mad at my mother? Funny, forgiveness has a way of gaining steam, sprouting fruit. Once you experience the love and freedom of it, you want more.

So where do we go from here? You might be thinking of that person who did such and such or said so and so and you’re secretly annoyed that it’s now been put in your head. Maybe you feel that itch of defending your right not to forgive. Yep. Been there. Still go there. But remember, there is no condemnation in Christ. God is love and spirit and truth. Think of what you can do to partner with those attributes. Be open and willing, knowing that when you show up, He’ll carry the brunt of the burden. He wants to. Why? Because He loves you, of course.

What about forgiving yourself? Can you show up for that? Start here and say this little prayer:

Dear God. Help me. Have mercy on me. Amen.

1. My heart is closed, Baby.