There are
few better feelings in life than being able to release bitterness and truly
forgive someone, or on the flip-side to truly be able to receive forgiveness
when we know we’re in the wrong. This week I was given a rose and a stone. The
rose, which was quickly destroyed by my boyish behaviors, was supposed to be a
reminder to ask someone for forgiveness this week. The stone, which was not as
easily destroyed, was to remind me to forgive someone who had wronged me. I knew
immediately whom I needed to forgive and ask forgiveness from.
The rose
came first. I knew I had wronged one of my close friends often over the past
few months. As I became more comfortable in my situation in life I became a
much more sarcastic and mocking person. I was no longer dependent on this
friend’s presence to be able to feel accepted in my community and so like an
old toy I started viewing the friendship with a level of apathy. I put little
effort into building him up and became quick to speak whatever came to my mind,
and what came to my mind were often words that made me laugh at the expense of
my friend. In short I stopped demonstrating any level of friendship, love or
respect. I knew that I was becoming this way but I had little motivation to do
the day-by-day work that would be required to start repairing the relationship.
A great deal of distance grew between us and we talked sparingly. When this
mission was given I accepted the challenge. Asking for forgiveness was one part
of this task, but there was a lot more work involved. I knew I could only
expect to receive that forgiveness if I actually started to make tangible
changes. Respecting this person and caring about them were my starting points.
I asked the friend if we could talk and made it clear that it would be a
discussion in which I admitted my faults and just simply asked for forgiveness.
I wanted to do everything I could to demonstrate that I was trying to respect
them and their feelings in this simple act. I made sure that we were meeting at
a time that worked well for them, and in an environment they would be most
comfortable at. We ended up going for a walk the next day. I opened up and was
honest about all my faults in the relationship, owning my action and words.
Finally, I admitted that which I was most ashamed up. I had talked behind this
persons back, venting frustration and relaying conversations I had no right to
tell others about. I had been a terrible friend and an even worse confidante. I
made it clear that I did not expect immediate forgiveness, that this would
probably take time to heal, and I did not get forgiveness. However, we were
able to land on a common understanding and discuss how to move forward from
here. I understand that now the real work begins, demonstrating true repentance
and really working toward a healthy and respectful friendship.
The rock
came second. My dear father was embodied in this rock. I did not want the rock
to represent my father; I like to think my father and I are on great terms. He
calls me about once every two weeks to a month and we chat for about twenty
minutes and then he tells me he is proud of me and he loves me. Some people
might view this as far to little communication, others might see this as a ton
of communication. Compared to my other siblings it’s about two weeks more often
than my sister and infinitely more than my brother who refuses to speak to him.
Regardless of how you feel towards it, I have typically felt good about it, and
when someone just tells you they love you, their proud of you and sometimes
even that I’m the perfect child, there is little to complain about. However, too
much of anything is a bad thing. My dad’s words of affirmation did little to
challenge me to be greater or to take risks. I should back up and say that my
parents got divorced when I was in the third grade and while I saw my father
every other weekend at first, it simply was not the same as living with
someone. Without my father around and an older brother who was oft moody and
quiet I was left with no one to really challenge me to be risky. The kids that
would have pushed me to do this were seen as “bad influences” in my own eyes so
I strayed away from them. I realized, as I walked with my rock the Willamette
River at sunset after work, that I have lived a very safe life. I have never
had a girlfriend mostly because I had never thought the risk of ruining a
friendship or having a bad breakup were worth it. I’ve never committed to any
activity that was not spiritually related in part because it all would be
pointless in the end but mostly because I did not want to commit time into
something that might not pan out in the end. Don't get me wrong I’ve committed
a lot of time to things that have been pointless but I have taken few risks
where significant time, money or emotions had potential of being “wasted” or
“ruined.” It hasn’t been a life ruled by fear, it has been a life of very
calculated risks, risks that are so calculated for success that I had little
to no chance of failure. My father never was around to push me to try new and
potentially scary experiences and risks, so I ended up living a very safe life.
For forgiveness to be reached I needed to both understand this, realize that this
has damaged me and then forgive my father for doing so.
As I
walked down a small dock onto the quiet quaint river, I pondered how to release my
rock of forgiveness. I wanted it to seem especially epic, should I triumphantly
thrust it into the river or with tears struggle to let it go? I thought about
this as I took a seat on the dock, feeling a little out of place surrounded by
families with small children and couples enjoying the last fleeting glimpses of sunlight. As I sat there a mother and two kids
strolled past me with a bag of cheap white bread. I watched as they began
throwing the crumbs off the left side of the dock into the river, drawing a crowd
of eager ducks. As I watched, I continued my debate in my head about how to seem really
introspective and creative in the way I disposed of my rock. As I sat there I
noticed there was one duck on the right side of the dock watching others eat
the crumbs. It looked like it clearly wanted some but it was unwilling to go
over to the other side. I figured this duck would be the perfect subject to
personify as myself. You see my whole life I had watched others engage in these
potentially good risks but I had always been either too proud or scared to
engage myself. I would sit and watch, giving a, “tsk tsk” when the risk led to ruin
and feeling jealous when they panned out, all the while asking, “When will it
be my turn?” Around this far into my thoughts, the small boy turned and
declared, “Come on! There is plenty for everyone!” as he tossed some bread to
the lone duck. “There,” I thought, “is the invitation.” God is willing to
provide these good things if I’m just willing to actually risk something, put
some chips on the line, and go for it. I felt that I had forced the metaphor
far enough and so with little to no ceremony and a surprisingly loud “plump” I
dropped my rock into the river, grinning to myself as the river splashed me back.
In the end the rock exercise became much less about forgiving my father than it
was a commitment to take healthy risks and truly pursue them fully, knowing
that it is only through great risks that great things are obtained.
So in the
end I find myself reflecting on the beginning. There are few things that are
more satisfying than deep forgiveness, given or received. I found neither of
these feelings in my brief journey, but what I did find was a few practical
steps to start living a healthier life. And I will take practical steps toward
healthiness over fleeting feelings any day.
