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Begin with Honesty

 

“If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.” 1 John 1:8

Apple coreDeception and dishonesty began in the garden. Caught out with the apple, Eve said, “The serpent deceived me and I ate.” Genesis 3:13. The serpent encouraged her to believe a lie, but she accepted his version. In his version, she wouldn’t die; she’d become wise. Wouldn’t the honest response be: “Yes, I sinned. I knew the serpent was wrong.”

Jeremiah describes our dishonesty:

“The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” Jeremiah 17:9

Like Mother Eve, we are endlessly self-deceptive. Confronted with our failures, we say, or at least think, “What, me? You’re saying I’m self-centered?” “I don’t listen?” “You think I’m arrogant?” Self-deception is our default mode.

Only one can break through:

“I the LORD search the heart and examine the mind,
to reward each person according to their conduct,
according to what their deeds deserve.” Jeremiah 17:10

Only the Father can penetrate our self-deception. Only he convicts. When we suddenly recognize our sin, thanking him is the only wise response.

Even wiser is an everyday prayer: “Father, where am I being dishonest with myself?” or “Lord Jesus, purify my heart.” or “Search me and try me. Expose my sin that I might not cause pain.”

We begin with honesty–truthfulness, free from deception. When we’re honest with ourselves, we know there’s always more to be exposed, forgiven, and healed. Confession, then, agrees with God about our sin. From honesty and confession comes cleansing:

“If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”1 John 1:9

I’d ask where you are deceiving yourself, but how would you know? Come, Spirit of Jesus who proceeds from the Father. Expose our sin, cleanse us from our unrighteousness and draw us into your heart, where all goodness dwells.

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Power to Make Peace

We can choose forgiveness long before we feel forgiving. In fact, we will choose to cancel the debt before we feel like it. If we wait until we feel like it, we’ll never forgive.

Releasing the pursuit of revenge involves several factors. Identifying the sin, identifying and feeling our emotions, developing empathy for the sinner, canceling the debt, along with setting boundaries if there’s no reconciliation, or a slow rebuilding of trust if the hurtful person truly repents.

The process can take years if the sin is grievous. But if we want freedom, somewhere in the process, we decide to forgive. We say the words: “I forgive.” We forgive a person or an institution or a culture or ourselves. We even “forgive” God for what we perceive as injustice toward us or our people.

To forgive sin that has altered the course of our lives requires the power of God’s Holy Spirit. We do not have in us the power to make peace with an altered life.

Without sexual abuse from my father, I can imagine a life of trust, and hope, and faith from a young age. I can spin out scenarios in my mind’s eye of joy and productivity and meaning. By the Father’s power, though, forgiveness has reconfigured my journey, in spite of the abuse, to his peace and rest.

To forgive is to entrust ourselves to an eternal judge who judges righteously. (1 Peter 2:23)

To forgive is to believe God will bring his good from our pain. (Romans 8:28) Not enough to say it was worth it, necessarily, but enough to recognize the Father’s good hand.

To forgive is, by the power of the Holy Spirit, putting to death old hopes thereby clearing the ground for new hope.

Forgiveness grows from the belief that the coming kingdom of our Papa-God is worth all it costs us. (Romans 8:18)

By your power, Father, we forgive those who have altered the course of our lives.

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Forgiveness, Yes. Trust, No.

Forgiving my father didn’t mean I trusted him. It didn’t mean I let my daughter sit on his lap. It didn’t mean I cuddled with him. Even in his old age, he made sexually inappropriate remarks. Though he was a generous, hardworking, and dependable man in many ways, I never knew what he might do or say. I felt oppressed and unsafe in his presence. I could not trust him to keep his hands to himself, nor to keep his words pure.

fence Pictures, Images and PhotosHence, I limited my time with him. I set boundaries against his sin. The matter-of-factness of those words belies years of deep conflict. I longed for a real reconciliation. I wanted a father’s love. In my adult life, I’d never tried to get him talk about what happened. For many years, he was just too powerful a figure. With him, I remained a small child.

However, as I grew larger in my own eyes, he grew smaller. Finally, at nearly forty years old, I wrote “the honest letter.” After expressing my thanks for many aspects of my upbringing, I named the abuse and speculated on his own pain that had been acted out on me in the abuse.  I ended with: “I wish you wanted to know me, Dad. I wish you’d ask my forgiveness for the sexual abuse. I wish you would, even now, face your own pain.”

An excerpt from Trading Fathers, my memoir, continues the story:  ”After two weeks, he wrote a two word response:  ’I'm sorry.’ But he wasn’t sorry enough to engage in real discussion. He wasn’t sorry enough to explore his own motivation. He wsn’t sorry enough to hear my pain….I had done my part to try to reconcile. I’d exposed my heart to him. In response, he gave me two words. Admittedly, they were the necessary words. But they were not sufficient. Two words were not enough to build on. I’d often fantasized a warm relationship with him. Now I could deal with the reality. My father would not pay the price.”

Is there someone in your life who you have forgiven but don’t trust? What is that like for you?

Father-God, thank you for paying the price for relationship with us. 

 



 




 


 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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“I Forgive”
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
“Okay, God, I forgive my father.” Sexual abuse at a young age had left serious consequences–anxiety, distrust, debilitating fears, and intrusive memories of the abuse. The abuse had also contributed to severe mental illness. At the time I said those words, I’d  just gotten out of the hospital from my second inpatient stay.


Diagnosed manic-depressive, I was more depressed than manic after recovery from the out-of-contact-with-reality delusions that had put me in a locked ward with injections of anti-psychotic medication. I was in my mid-twenties then, thirty-five years ago.


I hated my father. Forgiveness wasn’t on my agenda.


However, I’d read the Matthew 18 parable that Jesus tells of the unforgiving steward who gets thrown into a torturer’s den because he, having been forgiven, did not forgive. I grasped that my emotional turmoil was a torturer’s den. And it was related, not just to genetic susceptibility and the abuse, but also to my own unforgiveness.


So, in faith, with gritted teeth, I said the words, to God: “Yes, I forgive.” Immediately, an ugly flashback, with deep feelings of revulsion. “No! I have forgiven him. Today, this day, from now on, he is forgiven. The debt is canceled. Yes, he owes me immensely. He damaged my life. It is, in one sense, unforgiveable. And yet, by grace, I will forgive. I will no longer seek revenge. I will surrender hatred. I will rely on God’s power to keep that debt canceled.”


No Debt Pictures, Images and PhotosWhen I took the step of canceling my father’s debt, I didn’t know much about the process of forgiveness. I just knew my own heart’s conviction.


For me, this step of cancelling the debt came second, right after identifying the sin. It was only later that I began to identify and feel my feelings and develop empathy for my father.


That process of emotional forgiveness took ten years.


But the decision to forgive was recorded in God’s books the day I said the words.


Whether you cancel the debt you are owed at the beginning or in the middle of the process, saying the words “I forgive X, for doing Y” is the center of the challenge of forgiving those who have sinned against us. And, I am convinced, my current mental health (no medications for past thirty-three years) and my ability to be a psychotherapist began with those simple, yet powerful words. “I will forgive.”


Has God brought someone to mind whose debt you need to cancel? Are you willing to say the words, “God, I forgive ______ for ________” ?


Jesus, we are desperately in need to grace to cancel the debts others owe us. So many sins against us feel unforgivable.  Only you, who forgave your abusers from the cross, can understand and help. We need you. For your glory, Amen.

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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“She Did Her Best”
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
“My mother did the best she could. Grandma was hard and cruel to her. Mom wasn’t so bad to me. It could have been worse. I know I told you about that time she locked me in the closet and wouldn’t let me out for hours, but she only did that once. Her mother did it to her dozens of times. And Mom was mortified that she’d done it to me.” Thirty-eight year old “Annie” wiped away a tear as she thrust her feet forward, crossing her ankles. Her posture looked out of place with her stockbroker clothing–a white silk blouse under a gray suit.


“Yes, one instance of abuse, with heartfelt repentance, isn’t so traumatizing. But you often sound sarcastic, even bitter, when you discuss your upbringing. What’s that about?” I’d been seeing Annie (name and details changed) for several weeks for depression after a divorce.


Because we learn about relationships from our first relationships, we’d been discussing her childhood interactions with family, especially her sister and mother. We hadn’t yet talked about her father, whom she rarely saw. I got the feeling that, like the suit was a cover up for her ample body, her sarcasm (i.e., anger) was a cover up for more painful feelings.


I suspected she felt neglected by her mom and taunted by her sister, but she wasn’t ready to admit, much less feel, those feelings. She had not yet owned her childhood losses. And I knew something she had not yet grasped. She would never be emotionally free until she began at the beginning.


steps Pictures, Images and PhotosAnnie wanted to begin at step four, empathy.  I’ve been talking, in the last few posts, about the process of forgiveness. We identify the sin, we identify the emotions, we feel the sadness, fear, and anger. Then (or concurrently) we work on understanding the reasons for the other person’s sin. We pray for empathy for what provoked their sin. There are no excuses for sin, but there are reasons.


Many times, like Annie, we Christians make step four step one. Without ever exploring our own emotional reality, we say, “She was just doing the best she could.”


Emotionally real empathy is putting ourselves in the other person’s place. It’s feeling what they felt. Empathy comes from learning about the other person’s history. Empathy comes when we pray for understanding of what they have suffered.


The trick is, “She did her best,” needs to come after “I hate her. (No, that’s probably not too strong, if the trauma is intense.)” It’s both/and. We own our own hurt and pain. And we empathize with the other person’s pain. Yes, very challenging. But if we want peace, this is the process.


Jesus, this process takes all we have, and more. Show us what our next steps are. For your glory and the peace you’ve promised. Amen. 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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God Mourned
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
“Of course I forgive her. She’s my mother. She was doing the best she could. You should hear what grandpa did to her!” “Carly” (a composite client) had just told me how her mother had beaten her. With very little emotion, she’d reported how her mom had used sticks, rulers, and bare hands on her legs, her bottom, and sometimes her face. I hadn’t asked about forgiveness. She’d volunteered that.


“I’m glad to hear you say you forgive her because God calls us to forgiveness for our own good. And yet, I think there’s more you need to explore. Can you talk about what it was like for you at six?” I smiled at her. I’d been seeing her for three months, but this was the first time she’d discussed her childhood. She’d come in for therapy because she couldn’t hold a job.


A tear fell from her left eye before she turned to stare out the window. “It was hell. I was afraid to go home after school. I didn’t know what kind of mood she’d be in. I remember one day. I thought she was okay. We were making muffins together for dinner.  I was excited about something or other and spilled the batter. She slapped me in the face.  I never baked with her again.”


Gently, I asked a few more questions, but that was all. Carly wasn’t ready. And she didn’t come back. I’ve never seen her again but when something reminds me of her, I ask Jesus to give her courage and comfort.


Forgiveness is more than saying the words, “I forgive her.” I believe Carly did forgive her mom, as far as she knew at that time. And yet, she needed to explore much more of her pain. And each level of pain requires its own extending of forgiveness.


jesus on cross Pictures, Images and PhotosWhen “forgiveness” is used as a way to short-circuit the process of mourning the losses, it becomes less than God intends. When God forgave our sins, he felt the pain. On the cross, in Jesus, God mourned.


He felt the pain of all our rejection, indifference, and spurning of his affection. Only then was the forgiveness complete. Our forgiveness is complete when we follow his example.


Where are you in your forgiveness processes? What’s the next step?


Father, we need your courage and comfort to forgive. Work out your wholeness in us. For your glory. 


 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Honest Anger
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
“I could not believe you didn’t call. You were three hours late last night.” My client, “Ann,” (name and other details changed) shook her fist at her husband, “Allen.”


Sitting at the other end of the couch, Allen narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t call because I wasn’t sure I even wanted to come home.”


“Well, maybe I don’t even want you there, either.” She glared at him.


I’d been seeing this married couple for several weeks. This was a typical impasse. Both in the grip of marriage-threatening anger, they needed to get more honest about their underlying, more painful feelings.  ”Ann, what are you feeling, right now? I want you to quiet yourself for two minutes and listen to your body. Are your shoulders tense, how does your stomach feel–take an inventory. ” Turning to Allen, I repeated my instructions.


As I quieted myself, I prayed inwardly, “Lord Jesus, help them be vulnerable to each other. Help them be honest about the deeper feelings. The sadness, the fears, the disappointments, the lost hopes. Help them find each other again.”


heart? Pictures, Images and PhotosEmotions are expressed in subjective feelings, in outward behavior, and in our bodies. Helping this couple access their body experience, I hoped, would help them access their more hidden feelings.


Anger is a secondary emotion. We get angry because we are sad or fearful. Disappointed, despairing, feeling rejected, and many other kinds of vulnerable feelings can be covered up with anger.


And, anger in an intimate relationship usually does not get us what we want. Anger creates distance. If we want closeness, we need to access and share the more honest fears and sadnesses that have built up in the relationship.


Lord Jesus, reveal our hearts to ourselves. 


 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Mine That Feeling
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
“If I really let myself cry, I’ll never stop.” My college-age client looked out the window as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. I’d been seeing her for several weeks and today, we’d begun to discuss her painful childhood. It was just her and her mom. Her dad had left when she was four and she rarely saw him.


tears Pictures, Images and Photos“I just wish my mother would have listened to me, for once.” She looked at me and lifted her hands. Shaking her arms, she leaned forward. “Every dinner, and I mean every one, I had to listen to her complaints about working at the paper cup factory. After a while, I gave up trying to tell her about my day. She never asked. And I had to sit there for half an hour. I couldn’t leave. She wouldn’t let me.” She fell against the chair back as tears ran down her face.


Handing her a tissue, I asked, “Was there ever a time she listened?”


“No, that’s the whole problem. I felt invisible. She could have been talking to the air. And that’s still what she does. I called her yesterday to tell her about that “A” in sociology, but before I even said anything, she started about her job.”


“Feeling invisible is so painful, isn’t it? I’m sorry you have to deal with that.”


This client is a composite of several, (not the person in the photo) but representative of so many of us who were hurt by our parents’ sins. After we identify those sins and identify the feeling, we need to follow that feeling to it’s core belief. Feelings have reasons. They don’t come out of nowhere. Yes, it is scary to let ourselves feel what we feel, if the feeling is intense.  But that’s where the gold is. Let’s not waste those feelings. Let’s mine them, rather than cover them up. It is in the mining that we find the nuggets of  self-knowledge that will help set us free.


Yes, we need to find a safe place to do that work. For example, this young woman eventually felt safe enough in therapy to follow the sadness to her core belief:  ”I’m worthless.” She felt “worth less” than her parent’s attention. Not only had her father left, but her mother’s self-centeredness left no room for her. Her mom had provided food, shelter, and education, but had not provided attention, affection, or respect. Identifying that core belief allowed her to let Jesus speak his truth to that deep, painful lie.


Father of truth,  help us mine our pain to find those buried lies. 


 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Name That Feeling
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
“I feel bad.” In the other chair, my client slipped off her shoes and pulled her knees to her chest. Her blue jeans strained across her thighs. Her long brown hair fell across her tearful face.


I leaned forward. “Bad. Does that mean sad, disappointed, angry, irritated, anxious, fearful, confused, or something else?”


sadness Pictures, Images and Photos“I dunno. Maybe disappointed, but that doesn’t seem strong enough. We’ve been married ten years. I thought we were okay. Sure we have fights, doesn’t everybody? I don’t know why he wants a divorce. He says there isn’t anybody else, but I’m not sure I believe him. He doesn’t think I see him, but I notice him looking at other women.” She stared out the window. Last night’s snow still clung to the black branches of the courtyard maple.


“Disappointed begins to describe the feeling right now, but maybe it shades into something more intense, like despair?” A precise label would lead deeper into her heart.


“Yes, despair. That’s it. I don’t think there’s any hope. He was quite definite on Saturday that he was done. He slept on the couch that night and moved out Sunday. Now, I thank God we don’t have any children. All those years of praying and trying.” Still hugging her knees, she glanced at me before returning her gaze to the window.


“So, despair over the marriage. Maybe some relief over not putting a child through divorce.” Although I knew of her great sadness over her infertility, it made sense that she would also feel some relief now.


“Yes.” She rested her chin on her knees and wiped her eyes. (Photo is not of a client. Client scenario is a composite.)


Feelings can be confusing, mixed, and difficult to label. Recovery, though, involves naming the feelings. As we label the emotions, we can dig deeper into the issue to get at our beliefs. With a client like this, I would continue to probe at the meaning of the demise of this relationship. I’d want to know how it affected her faith, her sense of herself, and what story she was telling herself about it. She was just getting started in a process that, ideally, would lead to forgiveness.


Jesus, help us label our feelings. 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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What’s There?
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
Visiting Portland this past spring, we took the train downtown several times. We like architecture and often comment on the details of an entryway or cornice or the design of a window. On the fourth or fifth trip, we began to notice new aspects of the passing scene. On the first few trips, we’d been focused on not missing our stop. The tension of a new environment had honed our observation to only what was needed, but as the tension was relieved, we began to see more of what was there.


American Robin Pictures, Images and PhotosThat reminded me of how I only in the last few years have noticed that robins have little white markings on their wings, visible when they fly. There were lots of robins on the farm when I grew up, but I never noticed them. I was focused on mere emotional survival. My hypervigilance about the danger from my father was like blinders. When I first noticed those markings, I wondered, “Why have I never seen those before?” I soon realized why. The tension of my childhood was long past by that point and I could now see what’s there in the environment, from the details of the birds to the impact of the sin.


If we grow up in a difficult family, we often cannot see what’s there, either the good or the evil. We perceive only what’s necessary to survive. We are utterly dependent on our parents. If the environment they create feels unsafe, we try to protect ourselves by whatever means possible. Hypervigilance feels protective, but constricts our perceptions. We might miss the robins entirely and we might misread the evil as good. Only as we look back will we be able to see what was really there.


Jesus, show us the truth about our childhoods. Give us courage to face reality.


 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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What Sin is This?
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
“But we were a classic American family. That’s what my father said. We’d gather at the dinner table and he’d say, ‘What a great American family!’”


“And what was dinner like?” I leaned towards the young woman in the other chair. I’d been seeing her in therapy every week for a few months.


“Dinner was okay, I guess. Sometimes my oldest brother would tell me to close my mouth.” She shrugged.


“Close your mouth when you were eating?” I smiled.


“No, I knew that. I mean when I was just listening or taking my plate to the dishwasher or something.” She narrowed her eyes.


“How did that feel?” This wasn’t the first time I’d heard of nitpicking details this family had imposed on each other. Her mother took a white glove to my client’s dresser top every Saturday at noon and she was grounded all day if any dirt showed.


She raised her eyebrows. “It felt like I couldn’t even choose what expression to display on my own face. Like I had to do every detail the way somebody else wanted. Who cares if my mouth is open or closed? What earthly difference can it make?”


“Yes.” It was the first time I’d heard her anger. Previously, she’d been resigned or defensive if I questioned any of her family’s behavior. We went on to discuss more instances of overcontrol and perfectionism that had felt invalidating.


She’d come to me because she was depressed, to the point of overeating, oversleeping, and poor work performance. She had taken on her family’s perfectionism and criticism and used it toward herself. It took longer than she expected to learn to be easier on herself, but eventually, with much prayer and therapy, she did.


If the first step of forgiveness is to name the sin, where is the sin against my client (whose details have been changed to protect confidentiality)? Western culture has become so psychologized, we’ve lost the language for sin. But isn’t it sin to try to control every detail of someone else’s life? Where is the love in that? Love accepts non-sinful individual variation.


Isn’t it sin for a mother to expect an 8 year old to clean to a white-glove standard? Isn’t it a sin of hypocrisy for a father to proclaim greatness and ignore the unease in the family? Some of the most difficult clients I’ve worked with have come from families whose “family mythology” about themselves was, “We’re a great family,” when, in fact, they were not.


Did your family look anything like this? Were the sins subtle or hidden? If we want to find peace through forgiveness, we need to name the sin, first.


Father, show us the sin against us. Help us to see what you see. 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Name That Sin
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
Forgiveness begins with, “What is the sin?” That is what God calls us to forgive. We start with identifying the thoughts/words/actions that convey indifference to needs. In its broadest sense, sin is that which is not love–not in our own or someone else’s best interests.


Some of these happened to some of us. We need to ask the question:


Was it sin for my mother to leave me to take care of three younger siblings when she went out at night and I was ten years old?


Was it sin for my father to take me to the bars with him when I was twelve?


Was it sin for my brother to come to my room at night?


Was it sin for my spouse to divorce me?


Was it sin to scream at my daughter?


Is it sin when I damage my health through my own choices?


Is it a sin to be tired?


Is it sin to say “no?”


Fill in your own blanks:  Was/is it sin to ______________.


Defining sin can be confusing.  Identifying the sin we’ve done to ourselves or others have done to us can take months to years. Beyond even the difficulty of definition, a lot else gets in the way. Loyalty to family, denial, lack of self-awareness, stuffed feelings–all these can contribute to our blindness.


We need to see what Jesus sees. We can ask him to name the sin we have done to ourselves and the sin done against us.


We can’t forgive a sin we haven’t named. That’s step one of the process of forgiveness.


Jesus, name our sin and the sin against us. Help us be willing to forgive ourselves and others.


 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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Kill the Killer?
                    
                    

                

                    
                    

                    		                    
“Forgive? I’ll never forgive.” Many years ago, responding to a crisis line call at 2:00 A.M., I had listened to a woman for half an hour as she raged against her brother’s murderer. After listening with compassion, I had ventured the possibility of forgiving the man who’d hurt her family. The vehemence of her response echoed in my ear. I’m guessing she called to vent her rage, not to discuss solutions. Her solution was already worked out. She knew who had killed her brother, she knew where he had fled to, and she was leaving in the morning to take a life for a life.


The Oxford English Dictionary, quoted in Wikipedia, defines forgiveness as ‘to grant free pardon and to give up all claim on account of an offense or debt’. Granted, suggesting this woman give up her claim against this murderer was suggesting a lot. The killer owed this family a great debt. Pardon was too good for him. There was no excuse for what he did. I don’t recall the details. Perhaps he had pulled a gun impulsively. Perhaps it had been planned in advance. Perhaps the man felt guilty, perhaps not. I don’t know any of that.


Anguish Pictures, Images and Photos


What I do know is that forgiveness is the only way out of the rage, bitterness, and anger that was keeping that caller up all night. Killing the killer would only perpetuate the cycle. Would the killer’s family come after the new killer? How long before there are ten dead? Twenty? It’s attributed to both Gandhi and Martin Luther King: “An eye for an eye leaves everyone blind.”


Yes, to forgive requires great fortitude. But what’s the alternative?


Jesus, you who modeled and called for forgiveness, show us the way.


 


 

                    	                    

        			
                    		
   
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