One of the things Jesus said was, "The truth shall set you free." And our subconscious is really good about resurrecting truth, especially the truth that we suppress. Now since I am not a doctor, suffice it to say that I have watched enough TV, read enough books, and had enough hands on experience with doctors and counselors myself to know people suppress things: thoughts, memories, fears, anything basically that may have caused trauma. (Just ask Dr. Phil, lol.)
Jesus understood this, and part of what he was telling us throughout his teachings, was that salvation was saving us from something. I am analytical to say the least, and tearing apart the word "Salvation" has been one of the background themes of what goes on in my mind since I was a child and first heard the term. What are we saved from? It was probably one of the first spiritual questions I ever asked, at about age 8 or 9. I had a bit of a rebellious spirit at that time, and I rejected anything an adult told me as making absolutely no sense. So someone telling me I needed to be saved from something made no sense. Saved from what? Well, theologically, it is sin. But then my little mind, had to dissect Sin. Even at that age I realized that sin was not as simple as breaking the ten commandments. As I delved into reading my Bible searching for answers, I began to realize that anything I did that was not within the will of God for my life, was sin. All the word really meant was that I was not in tune with what God wanted for my life. I wrestled with how anyone could live minute by minute in the perfect will of God and I became very discouraged that I was totally and completely a sinner. Also, if I died, I would die a sinner, and that was the most frightening thing I had ever known. I became incredibly afraid of things like lightening. Would God really "strike me dead" as the old saying goes? I lived in terror for months trying to figure out how to remedy this agony, and get saved before something killed me, until the still small voice of the Everloving God said "fear not." I had read this in His Word, and now this voice said "fear not." A quiet voice, the one I had, since age 3, known as "God My Heavenly Father." This voice was the one I loved, that soothed my fears, and never had made me feel discouraged or afraid. Why would he send this guy named Jesus into the world and have him ruin things between me and God My Heavenly Father? Sure, Jesus was his son, but I was his child too. And why now would my Father not let me into heaven just because of Jesus? So now that my Heavenly Father was saying "fear not," I was relieved, because I was beginning to believe he had rejected me for my sin.
Instead of striking me dead, he lovingly led me to salvation, through the verse: "By Grace are ye save through faith,not of yourselves. It is the gift of God, not of works lest any man should boast." Eph. 2:8&9. He gave me the gift of himself, not just his voice but his Spirit, which indwelt me. No longer a voice only but He stepped into my being, to be a part of me, and take me as a part of Him. A gift, no more trying to be in His perfect will, just free from chasing after trying to be sinless. Once again I could delight in his still small voice, rather than fear it.
Now before someone thinks I am "hearing voices", that make you go off the deep end, it isn't like that. And I never hear other voices in my head. Sometimes my own voice in my head drives me a little batty, but this voice always calms, always loves, always smiles. Have you ever heard the smile in someone's voice. This voice said "no, that will hurt you," when I was 3, and "I am here" when the shadows in the night were scarey. I felt like the owner of this voice was always there. Comforting, guiding, loving. And for as long as I can remember I called him, My Heavenly Father. In short, I had always believed in God, and never doubted his existence, at least in part because of this loving companion that I thought everyone knew about. And I always felt like he had friends, which I was delighted to know at some point were my guardian angels.
I never saw or heard them, I just knew that sometimes I felt pulled from harm, or gently pushed along through the fearful things. I also was delighted when while reading the Bible, I read of the "still small voice." I thought, I know about that voice. Now let's digress into one of those memories in my head for a moment -
Once I bit a little girl in Vacation Bible School as a toddler, maybe about age 3. I bit her because I wanted her to feel what it was like when she was biting everyone else. I had no inclination to bite anyone else, nor had I done it before. But I thought, she doesn't understand that she hurts people, so I will show her. Well, I obviously showed her a little too hard, and stood in amazement that the teacher didn't just see that I was only doing it to teach her a lesson. I was taken to my mother, and they told the story all wrong, and I don't remember how I was punished, I just remember how unfair that I, not the little girl who was biting everyone, was in trouble. No one punished her, and she was in fact rather pleased with herself the next day, but she didn't bite anyone. That was the first time I remember having to go to my Heavenly Father to talk. That was my introduction to prayer. And I found that there would be "millions" more times that I would find myself wondering why the rest of the world didn't understand my actions, and finding out something I had done just didn't fit the ideas the world around me catered to. And that I couldn't fix things by "biting the person who is wounding me and the people around me." She is also the first person in my life that the trauma of the situation made me stuff my feelings because I didn't understand them. And the first time, God didn't fix things the way I thought he should. In short, it was the first person who I didn't forgive for how her actions in my life left me in a quandry about life. Little girl, whoever you were...I FORGIVE YOU, In the Name of Jesus, I forgive you. I can't remember if I ever have thought of you and actually forgiven you, or not. I do know that this was and is one of the best loved memories of my life, because it is when I actually talked to God instead of just listening to Him. It is when I learned there are consequenses for my actions. And that people will misunderstand your intentions. When I first asked for His help.
And that is what my post is about today. Whatever things or people in my life that I equate with trauma, I have since learned, must be forgiven. Not only because it is "sin" not to forgive, but because the reason it is "sin", (something outside the way God would have us live,) is that God knows unforgiveness causes us to harm ourselves. We aren't doing something like breaking the ten commandments kind of sin. Except that we are not keeping the commandment to "love thy neighbor as thyself." We are setting aside the God given right to forgive the people and the situation, and release them and us from that suppressed memory which will inevitably come up in some form later to stare us in the face, haunt us in our dreams, tear apart our relationships, and just plain hurt. That is one of the things God wants us saved from.
I would love for that to have been the life lesson that kept me from ever doing something to mess up my life again. No, no, I still fall into that trap, and find myself reliving the scenario with people, all these years later.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus prayed that the cup might pass from him. He didn't want to be the victim of people's poor lack of judgement about him. He didn't want them to see him as in the wrong when he was the essence of what is right. He didn't want to take on sin when he knew no sin. To hang on a cross which was highly indicative of being a criminal, a theif or murderer. He was wounded in his heart from the rejection of people he loved long before he felt the stripes of the lash. Jesus was every bit in the middle of one of those situations that we try to "just forget about it." The ones that won't be forgotten no matter how hard we try. Unjust, misunderstood, and misrepresented. Unlike me, who obviously can't lay claim to not deserving what people dish out sometimes. Jesus was not deserving.
But what was the theme on the cross. Jesus spent his dying hours, saying "Father forgive them, for they know what they do." People aren't God. They can't read our minds or see all the circumstances of our lives. They don't understand how they hurt us sometimes. Yet sometimes, like the little girl who was so smug the next day, they do know. Notice in my story, I didn't find the need to forgive the teacher, although I do, since the Lord brought her up. I had already tried to ignore the fact that I was hurt by her enough to remember the unfairness of it. She needs my forgiveness and I need to forgive her.
The message from God to my heart is that, when I remember the things that caused me pain, and the memory of the person or persons makes my heart ache, it is only in forgiving them that I am set free. If I acknowlege the truth that I am hurting myself by not actively forgiving them but ignore it, I will continue in my pain. And I will lash out at the next person whom I think is misunderstanding me, out of fear that I will have to live through that pain again. Resisting it does not heal. Revealing it does. Pain and fear beget pain and fear. Forgiveness begets forgiveness.
When God says he will forgive as we forgive, it only means that as we release others from the painful memory they caused us, then by God's mercy we are released from the painful memory they caused us. The deeper I go into explaining to myself why someone hurts me, the more reasons I am piling on for why I need to just forgive them.
Lord, gently remind me to be quick to forgive so that I may spend fewer hours later, trying to figure out why I am in so much pain. AMEN
PS. Lord I also Forgive ME for the times I hurt someone, because in my heart I truly wish I never did. And with this one, I will need a little help. AMEN, & AMEN
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