FORGIVENESS - Oct 2009
I still remember when I hurt the same church member in my previous congregation twice. Twice! The same member! And she was the matriarch of the church—a long-time member, deeply committed, to everything the church stood for.
It doesn’t really matter what I did. Sure, there were extenuating circumstances: I was tired, not thinking, not prepared etc. But these stresses are normal for everyone these days, making them no longer “extenuating.” Most of us are struggling in our busy lives to overcome what too often becomes chronic fatigue. All of us are more likely to hurt someone because we’re tired and not able to be fully present in our relationships ... relationships that are the fruit of our lives.
I felt awful about the pain I had caused. It was the kind of awful that keeps me awake at night with a burning consciousness of relentless pangs of guilt…the kind of awful that wakes me up at dawn with a stomach tied up in knots. Let’s be clear, I didn’t say or do anything that was intentionally hurtful. I wasn’t mean. I didn’t want to inflict pain. I can’t remember doing that since I was a child fighting with my brothers. This is not about intent. It’s about outcome. I was guilty of making a mistake. I acted with little thought. Words were not said, actions were taken, and I hurt someone.
I know, I know! This is inevitable in life. We bump up against each other all the time. It’s amazing there aren’t more gaping wounds on our hearts. Yet, I strive so very hard to be in right relation with everyone, from strangers to family. It’s my way. I carry the super-sized conscience to prove it. It doesn’t mean I won’t share my opinion--let’s be clear about THAT. And, I’m not easily pushed around either. But these parts of me are always tempered with love and compassion.
I carry my commitment to love and compassion with me when I take the time to apologize. There is something deeply stunning to me about the act of apologizing. And it is equally stunning when the apology is gracefully accepted. In that moment, when two human hearts meet in a connection of vulnerability, is where holiness exists. In a moment that freezes time, two people can see into one another’s eyes and find grace.
My apologies, both of them, were accepted with such grace and marked by the peace found in mutual love and compassion. I slept deeply each night following those moments of connection, my hope in humanity rekindled.
I felt awful about the pain I had caused. It was the kind of awful that keeps me awake at night with a burning consciousness of relentless pangs of guilt…the kind of awful that wakes me up at dawn with a stomach tied up in knots. Let’s be clear, I didn’t say or do anything that was intentionally hurtful. I wasn’t mean. I didn’t want to inflict pain. I can’t remember doing that since I was a child fighting with my brothers. This is not about intent. It’s about outcome. I was guilty of making a mistake. I acted with little thought. Words were not said, actions were taken, and I hurt someone.
I know, I know! This is inevitable in life. We bump up against each other all the time. It’s amazing there aren’t more gaping wounds on our hearts. Yet, I strive so very hard to be in right relation with everyone, from strangers to family. It’s my way. I carry the super-sized conscience to prove it. It doesn’t mean I won’t share my opinion--let’s be clear about THAT. And, I’m not easily pushed around either. But these parts of me are always tempered with love and compassion.
I carry my commitment to love and compassion with me when I take the time to apologize. There is something deeply stunning to me about the act of apologizing. And it is equally stunning when the apology is gracefully accepted. In that moment, when two human hearts meet in a connection of vulnerability, is where holiness exists. In a moment that freezes time, two people can see into one another’s eyes and find grace.
My apologies, both of them, were accepted with such grace and marked by the peace found in mutual love and compassion. I slept deeply each night following those moments of connection, my hope in humanity rekindled.
