Wounded by God's People (14 page)

As the couple sat quietly, their coffee getting cold in cups that went unnoticed, I sensed they were truly listening. So I continued. I shared the testimony of a dear friend, Barb,
¹¹
whose mother had never ceased to find fault with her. Ever since Barb was a little girl, her mother had criticized everything she did. Barb told me that months before Christmas every year, she began to feel nauseated because selecting the expected gift was so traumatic. It didn't matter what the gift was, her mother would not be pleased. Barb dreaded Christmas for that reason alone.

Barb and her mother were involved with other family members in a business venture. One particular year, Barb's mother actually took out a lawsuit against her involving the business. At the same time, Barb's mother was moving out of the home she'd had for decades and into a condominium — and Barb was helping her move! As if that weren't enough, Barb was a fabulous seamstress and she sewed the drapes and other things for her mother's new home.

Barb had dropped by my house one morning, and I remember looking incredulously at her. She was standing on my front steps when I challenged her bluntly, “Barb, how can you do it? How in the
world can you help your mother, sew for her, do these other things, while she is suing you in court?” I will never forget Barb's response. She taught me a life's lesson that I was able to share with those at the dinner.

“Anne, I've forgiven my mother,” she replied. “But I have to tell you, every time my mother comes to mind, every time I see her or hear the sound of her voice, I have to forgive her all over again. Jesus has taught me to forgive seventy times seven — to place no limits on my forgiveness. But when I made the decision to forgive her, I also made the decision to love her sacrificially. Helping her is my way of showing her I've forgiven her and that I love her. And actually, it has helped me let go. I have been set free from bitterness, anger, and resentment.”

I looked at Barb's gentle expression, the light of joy in her eyes, and I knew she was speaking the truth. She was free — free to forgive, free to love. Her wounds had been healed!

When dinner had concluded and we were walking to our cars, the husband of the woman who had asked the question slipped up beside me, put his arm around my shoulders, and whispered, “Thank you. Thank you for your ministry to us tonight.” From the look on his face, I was led to believe he had taken the first step out of exile. He was ready to move forward.

Don't underestimate the power of forgiveness in your own life. While others may remain distant, hardened, cold, vengeful, and give only a negative response to your forgiveness — if they give any response at all — the very act of forgiveness fleshed out in sacrificial love will begin the healing process
in you
. And sometimes it does make a difference in the other person.

Although there was no evidence at the time, Barb's forgiveness
and love softened her mother's heart. As Barb chose to move forward, within a few years, she had the privilege of leading her mother to receive God's love by placing her faith in Jesus Christ for her own forgiveness. Shortly thereafter, her mother stepped into eternity. I can't even imagine how different Barb's outlook would be now if she had not made the decision to forgive and then move forward by loving her mother
for God's sake
.

Here is the biblical foundation for Barb's lesson: “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers … Dear children, let us not love with words or tongues but with actions and in truth … And this is his command: to believe in the name of his Son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commanded us.”
¹²

And that love often involves forgiveness and sacrifice, doesn't it? There never has been, is, or ever will be a greater demonstration of sacrificial love than when
Jesus Christ laid down His life for us
. For you. For me. And He made this sacrifice at a time when we could not have cared less because we didn't even know we were sinners, much less that we needed a Savior who would offer us forgiveness through His own shed blood on the cross.

I shared this principle with Jay, another friend who had been deeply wounded.
¹³
He was a United States senator who was considered such a strong candidate in his reelection bid that he almost ran unopposed. But at the last minute, another person in the other party declared his candidacy. Millions of dollars in out-of-state revenue was raised by a senate colleague for Jay's challenger. A national marketing team was engaged for the opposition that played loose with the truth, twisting and distorting Jay's record. Jay lost the race.

When I had the opportunity to talk with Jay two years after the
disastrous election, I could clearly see the hurt that was still in his eyes. He candidly asked me how he could move past the wound when his political career had been terminated so unfairly. He acknowledged that he struggled with bitterness. So I shared with Jay the principle of making the choice to forgive, then following it with a sacrificial act of love for the wounder.

Several months later, Jay shared that he had gone home and thought through what I had shared. As a result, he had made the decision to forgive his Senate colleague. Then, he had heard his colleague's wife was dying of cancer. So Jay wrote a warm note to tell his former colleague he was praying for them both and sent a gift to express his concern. Jay didn't know if the colleague had been touched, but Jay himself was set free from bitterness. He was no longer looking back, but moving forward, ready to embrace the future that God had for him, which was different than the one he had envisioned for himself.

Although you may not be in exile physically — you may still be going to church, attending Bible studies, involved in religious activities — could it be that your spirit is nonetheless in exile because you are stuck in the quicksand of past wounds? Is there a cold vacancy where there used to be a warm vibrancy of love for the things and people of God? Is there a root of bitterness that is strangling your spirit on the inside, threatening to choke off the future God has in store for you?

Our Lord Jesus Christ, Creator of everything, Lord of Glory, Son of God, the Angel of the Lord who had pursued, comforted, and helped Hagar, gives us a dramatic life lesson on forgiveness by His own example. When He was stripped of His clothes, nailed to the
cross with spikes driven through His hands and feet, He prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”
¹⁴
If He could forgive the very ones who crucified Him, how can you and I withhold our forgiveness from those who wound us? But He didn't just make the choice to forgive them;
He died for them!

I recently heard a statement attributed to my dear friend Crawford Loritts.
¹⁵
It was based on the account of Jesus' appearance to His disciples in the upstairs room following His resurrection. Jesus showed the disciples His wounds and invited them to reach out and touch them.
¹⁶
Crawford remarked that perhaps one reason Jesus did this was to show His disciples that, while scars may remain, wounds can be healed. Quickly. You don't necessarily need years of therapy and counseling.

Perhaps what you need more than anything is a fresh encounter with the risen Lord Jesus Christ. Take a good look at the wounds He bore for you. His decision to forgive you was followed by sacrificial love in action. He
died for you
!

If you are struggling in your effort to move forward because you can't seem to get your eyes off the past, look up. Heed the example of the One who made the decision to forgive His wounders, then followed His decision with a supreme act of sacrificial love.

And don't forget to look ahead. While Jesus will always bear in His body the marks of Calvary, He moved on into all that His Father had for Him after the cross. He walked out of the grave into the glory of heaven and the crown that awaited Him as “King of kings and Lord of lords.”
¹⁷

So … “I keep asking that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the glorious Father, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, so
that you may know him better. I pray also that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope to which he has called you.”
¹⁸
Look up! Look ahead! Don't miss the future God has for you because you keep looking back.

Altogether, Abraham lived a hundred and seventy-five years. Then Abraham breathed his last and died at a good old age, an old man and full of years; and he was gathered to his people. His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah near Mamre, in the field of Ephron son of Zohar the Hittite, the field Abraham had bought from the Hittites. There Abraham was buried with his wife Sarah
.

Genesis 25:7–10

W
ounding smashes relationships. We can never return to the way we were before the wounding took place, which in itself adds a dimension to our grief that is very deep. Yet it is possible for severed relationships to be reconciled.

For years, I had a best friend. We talked almost every day by phone and took every opportunity we could to spend time together, blending our families into lots of happy confusion for picnics, holidays, and special times. But one day I found myself helplessly standing by as my friend was deeply wounded by another, then chose to retaliate. She had many friends and family members cheering her on. But in obedience to what God put on my heart and seeking to be faithful to the insight I felt He had given me, I warned her of the consequences of her actions. While she was justified in her course of action, the long-term repercussions, I believed, would be exceedingly destructive, not only to her, but also to her children.

What I said was not what she wanted to hear. And so she severed our relationship and followed through on her decision to wound the wounder. Like fire hitting a fan, the sparks of her retaliation flew in all directions, burning hearts and hopes and homes and families and futures. While in one sense she had every right to do what she did, it turned out to be devastating. All I could do was weep and pray from a distance. The ache in my heart was almost a physical pain.

Years later, she sat at my kitchen table and, in a voice choking with emotion, tearfully said how sorry she was. She asked for my
forgiveness, saying she wanted our relationship restored to what it had been. I wept too. I put my arms around her and hugged her, telling her I had forgiven her years earlier.
¹
I told her how much I appreciated her courage in coming to try to make things right. To reconcile. But I knew, even as we opened our hearts to each other, that we could never really go back and reclaim the relationship that had been. It was gone. However — and this is the encouragement I want to pass on to you — we remain good friends to this day. The relationship is different but sweet. I believe it has been healed because she was willing to die to her pride, to humble herself, and to ask for my forgiveness.

I recently came across a quote from John Ortberg that makes a helpful distinction between forgiveness and reconciliation: “You might distinguish between forgiveness as letting go of my right to hurt you back and reconciliation as that which requires the sincere intentions of both parties.”
²
The amazing conclusion to Hagar's story is that reconciliation seems to have taken place between both parties … between her son, Ishmael, and Sarah's son, Isaac.

The Bible doesn't tell us if Hagar ever saw Abraham and Sarah again. But we are given a tantalizing glimpse of a possible reconciliation that took place when Abraham “breathed his last and died at a good old age, an old man and full of years; and he was gathered to his people. His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him.”
³
Isaac
and
Ishmael —
together again
?

How I would love to know … had Isaac and Ishmael stayed in touch throughout the years? Had they met each other's wives? And shared meals with each other's families? Did they ever go hunting together? Were they cordial and friendly? When Abraham died, was it natural for Ishmael to participate in the funeral? Or had Isaac and
Ishmael not seen each other or spoken since that dreadful day so long ago when Abraham exiled Hagar and Ishmael? If so, what would make Isaac reach out to Ishmael after so many years? In sending word to Ishmael about Abraham's death, was he trying to reconcile with his half brother? Or was Isaac just doing what he felt was right and proper in notifying Abraham's firstborn of his death? Maybe Isaac's gesture was perfunctory, a dutiful effort to honor his deceased father whom he knew had deeply loved Ishmael. I wonder, did Isaac ever imagine that Ishmael would actually show up? But Ishmael did!

In asking Ishmael to come to the funeral, Isaac ran the risk of opening an old wound. But sometimes wounds that have not healed properly need to be lanced, or reopened, in order to purge an infection and allow deep healing to begin. As unpleasant as the thought may be, the wounds from your past may need to be revisited to truly heal.

My nine-year-old granddaughter, Sophia, somehow got a splinter in the back of her hand — a year ago! She wouldn't let anyone, from her mother to her father to me to the pediatrician, touch the painful wound. A couple of weeks ago, we all noticed that the splinter was festering and had raised a blister on her hand that was becoming more and more painful. Finally, my daughter had had enough. She told Sophia to hold still and then pulled out the protruding splinter with her fingers. Sophia yelped at the sudden, sharp pain, but then smiled with relief as the pain she had lived with for over a year was almost instantly eased. A couple of days later, there wasn't even any inflammation to indicate that the splinter had ever been under Sophia's skin.

Wounds can be like Sophia's splinter. We think we can live with them, but they don't seem to go away on their own. Even small ones.
Sometimes we have to reopen the wound in order to extract what's causing the pain so that we can truly heal.

Some time ago, I talked with a handsome, gray-haired gentleman named David,
⁴
who opened up in a surprisingly vulnerable way. He shared with me that he had been raped when he was about twelve years old by a babysitter who was considered by his community to be a mature Christian. For years, David carried that horrific wound as a secret deep within his heart. But the wound eventually began to fester. The guilt and shame surfaced at unexpected times in fits of rage and ultimately led to alcoholism and drug abuse.

When he surrendered his life in a deeper way to Jesus, David felt led, as an adult, to confront his rapist. And so he did. When they met, David described what had happened between them and then extended grace and forgiveness. But the rapist vehemently rejected David's offer, insisting that the rape had never taken place. Grieved, David drove home, got on his knees, and revisited in prayer the hateful scene that had replayed in his memory so many times. Only this time, he imagined Jesus present in his childhood room, looking at him with infinite tenderness and forgiveness and the deep empathy of One who understands what it feels like to be brutalized.
⁵
And through a truly supernatural, fresh touch from God, the wound that had been excruciatingly painful for years, and even more painful to reopen, was healed.

If the person who has wounded you, or has been wounded by you, rejects your forgiving words or gestures and refuses to move toward reconciliation, take it to Jesus in prayer. He understands what it feels like to make every effort to reconcile, only to be rejected. The relationship may never be reconciled, but Jesus can heal you — and your memories.

Isaac and Ishmael surely had vivid memories of the wounding that led to their separation. If there had been no contact between the brothers since Hagar and Ishmael were exiled — some seventy years — I wonder what the scene was when they finally met face-to-face. Did they stare at each other awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other? Did they formally shake hands? Did they politely embrace as they kissed first one cheek, then the other in the custom of the Middle East? Did Ishmael say, “I'm sorry”? Or did they just exchange a long, knowing glance that needed no words? Maybe it was enough that Ishmael had come to help bury their father — in the very same cave where Abraham had buried Sarah years earlier. Sometimes reconciliation begins with just a small gesture, doesn't it? A tiny tendril of contact. Someone who is willing to take the first step, make the first move, say the first word.

If you have a relationship that has been shattered by wounds, would you be willing to reach out to the wounder as Isaac did to Ishmael? Just a small gesture. It can be a brief phone call, a birthday card, an anniversary remembered, a small gift, a few words spoken at a social gathering, warm eye contact instead of a cold stare. Take some action to let the person know you are reaching out, that the door is cracked open to reconciliation. You may never know if the relationship can be reconciled unless you make the effort to begin the process.

On the other hand, is there someone who has been trying to reach out to you? Have you been on the receiving end of a small gesture? At this stage in your journey, perhaps it no longer matters who was the wounder and who was the wounded. What matters is the fact that the person is reaching out and you need to respond. Why won't you? Don't make it hard for someone to come to you.

In time, there will need to be more than just a gesture. There may need to be a face-to-face, heart-to-heart, honest conversation in which you listen to the other person's story and he or she listens to yours. Who knows? Maybe you will discover that a significant part of the problem was miscommunication or misinformation. Even if the conversation reveals you were dead wrong or the other person was totally at fault, you need to give voice to your apology or forgiveness. Don't let pride keep you from genuine reconciliation. And that's where death comes in, isn't it? Death to our pride.

I know I have been a wounder. And I have been wounded. What I also know is that if there is any hope of reconciliation in the relationships that have been severed, someone needs to make the first move. My pride would defensively protest,
They need to come to me. What they did to me was far worse than anything I ever thought of doing to them. I didn't mean to wound them, but they intentionally tried to destroy me. They need to set their wrongs right first
. So there has to be a death. Just as Abraham's death seems to have triggered the reconciliation between Isaac and Ishmael, death is the trigger for reconciliation between my wounders and me.
My
death. I have to die to my pride and my position as the one whose forgiveness should be sought by them.

I need to be easily approachable, as Jesus has been for me.

I need to love those who have rejected me, as Jesus loved me.

I need to initiate the contact, as Jesus did for me.

I need to extend forgiveness to them before they even ask me for it, as Jesus did for me.

And so I have. I have tapped softly on the door of hope for a new beginning — a brief phone call, an email, a cup of coffee shared at Starbucks, a memory in the form of a gift tucked in the mail. Has
every relationship been healed and reconciled? No. Why not? I have asked myself that more times than I can count. While some relationships have eased into friendship, others remain severed. I'm not even sure that some of my wounders have recognized my gestures for what they were. One thing I do know is that some things take time. I can't force reconciliation. I can't change someone else's heart or mind. Only the Lord can do that. And so I continue to pray and wait.

As I wait, I seem to see with the eyes of my heart that same mysterious figure who hovered in the shadows of Hagar's life, the Angel of the Lord. I'm reminded that He understands what it feels like to wait for those who've wounded Him to respond to His overtures for reconciliation. I know He truly feels my pain.

But this time, He's not looking at me. I imagine Him gazing past me with an expression of infinite tenderness and longing. He's looking at you. He not only made the first move toward you when He left His throne in heaven, came to earth, and went to the cross, but He put this book in your hands. Now He's waiting. Waiting for you to respond and walk through the door He has opened with His nail-scarred hand. A door that leads into reconciliation with His Father and with Himself and, in time, with
them —
the ones who wounded you. Like Isaac and Ishmael, it's a reconciliation that has been made possible through death … His death. You can be reconciled when you meet Him — and your wounders — at the foot of the cross.