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Someone asked me, “How do you forgive the person that has hurt you?” That’s not an easy question to answer. And, yet, I know that we MUST forgive. Jesus admonishes us to “Forgive as you have been forgiven.” Really? Because that takes forgiveness to another level…that level takes more than flesh can give. I guess that’s the point.

Forgiveness comes more easily for some than others. Some pains are more easily forgiven. The ignorance of the one that hurt you, for instance, over time might be easier to dismiss. But what about the malicious acts of pain and abuse, the in your face I hate you kind of grievances? Or the people that abuse you, misuse you, and break your heart again and again behind closed doors where no one else sees? What of those?

One thing I have to remind myself is this: My enemy is not flesh and blood. He works through flesh and blood and manipulates others to come against me, but my enemy is deeper than that. When you can disconnect the pain from the person and attribute it to a “greater” source, perhaps you can forgive more easily. I know in the significant pains that I have faced in my life and overcome, it has taken that. I could stew about so and so and what they did to me, or I can realize that, like it or not, they too were victims of a hateful enemy that simply longs to kill and destroy and will stop at nothing to see it happen.

Oh but wait! Leslie? You are then excusing the sin!? Yes.

“Forgive as you have been forgiven.”

Luckily, Jesus didn’t hang on a cross and blurt out, “Leslie Ann, this nail in my hand is for you, for the times that you lied, were unfaithful, murdered men in your heart, and took my name in vain!” He simply stated, “Father forgive them…” I was included in that blanket forgiveness, as were my accusers and my attackers. It held no stipulations or quid pro quo; forgiveness was given without a thought to the specific sin. It isn’t what put him there that mattered to Him, but the ones He was setting free!

“How do you forgive the person that has hurt you?”

You have to choose. Choose two things: First, remember the One that was hurt FOR you. Secondly, forgive as you have been forgiven. This is a little easier when you are removed from him or her. But in the case that they are still in your life, pray for them. Never discount the power of spoken prayer. Your circumstances may not change, but I guarantee your heart will; yielded and pliable in the Hands of your loving Savior, your heart can take on a softness you never thought possible.

I’m praying for the person that reads this and harbors unforgiveness, anger, and hatred. I have been where you are, and for years I allowed that bitterness to fester and to grow. Then, I forgave and released the stress and energy that had occupied my mind and heart for years, holding me back from taking hold of the abundant life found through Christ Jesus. Forgiveness, I once heard, isn’t about forgetting what was done. It’s the act of releasing the chokehold around the perpetrator’s neck. Let them go… and they will lose their hold over you.

I leave you with these words of Corrie Ten Boom, when she was looking into the eyes of the man that had abused, mistreated her, and passionately hated her for no other reason than she was a Jewish sympathizer:
“Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart.”

I wonder if I’m wrong.

You ever had that thought?

About life, about God, about how I am.

I was reading something the other day, and I got to a point in the message where the person began speaking of G_d. G_d? What is that? I stopped. Why didn’t the person say “GOD”? What is so wrong with using His name? It wasn’t in vain. It wasn’t perverse. In fact, what they were sharing was profound, and yet, they couldn’t type out one more letter and say, “God.” Bizarre.

Instantly I understood and grieved this decision. I understood, because we often forget that He IS holy and majestic and far beyond the realm of mere letters. I grieved because I thought back (not that I actually remembered) to the time before Christ, the time when the name of God was considered so sacred that even the common man was ashamed to speak it for fear that he wasn’t worthy. I thought back to the segregation that meant for the “wise and the learned” versus the everyday Joe. I thought of the authority of the priest that looked down his nose at those that he saw inferior because they were not in right blood line, the chosen race, the beloved People.

Then I thought of the Priest that did away with all of that! Who erased the lines, embraced the masses, and had the audacity to stand before man and not only address the name made up of only consonants, but to call Him Father! Jesus, fully man, fully God gave His life not so that we would stumble over a key, unable to type or speak that Holy Name, but to make that name accessible to all!

I decided to do a search. I am willing to admit I am wrong. So, I began in the old testament…I skimmed over the laws (seriously, I didn’t have all day), looked at the stories and followed it all through Revelation, and what I found was beautiful! What I saw was that not only has God’s name always been accessible to His creation, but all along, book after book, we see that His name changes, grows, diversifies, and solidifies. He is the God that Provides, and the God that Sees, the God that saves and rescues, the God that wrestles and concedes. He is the God that knows and the God that hears, the God that is with us, and the God that was and is to come. He is the beginning and the end. He is the King, the Lover, the Mother, the Shepherd, the Father, the Keeper, the Protector, and the One that fights for us. He is a Strong Tower, and the Lily of the Valley. He is Light and He is Truth, our Redeemer and our Friend. The Holy One, the Name above all names, the Counselor, the Teacher, and He, more than once referred to Himself as I AM! People have been renaming Him and calling on Him in all sorts of ways for centuries, and yet my dear brother in Christ stumbles over a letter!

Now, maybe you are left with a question. “If all these names aren’t taking His name in vain, if all names are accessible to us, and yet we are still told time and time again to keep His name holy, how do we do this?” Well, it’s simple but it requires work. Yep. Grace is not devoid of work. Here is the answer, “Then His name will be honored because of the way you live.” (2 Thess. 1:12) The truth is, we can leave out letters, and type in hieroglyphics, and speak in jumbled consonants, but if we aren’t giving glory  to God through the way we live our lives, the holiest of pronunciations are nothing more than “appearances.” Because God only hears the language of the heart, and a convicted heart, a saved heart, a rescued heart calls on His Name in a million different ways at all times and lives His love out loud, and this to Him is the highest praise!

So, no. I’m not buying into the latest “Bring old school religion back” phase. I’m walking forward, in the freedom that Christ afforded me. I am not only speaking the name of God with vigor and with joy, I’m calling Him Provider, and Healer, and all the other names that He has proven Himself to be time and again, and I’m also making use of the name Jesus freed up for me to use, Daddy! And, I don’t feel the tsk of His tongue like an old Jewish priest; I feel the light of His smile, because that’s the way He wants it! He wants us to speak His name, to revel in it, to marvel at it, and to understand it…not as something untouchable or too holy to pronounce, but to fulfill His greatest desire “that we should be called Children of God.” Now that’s a name I’m proud of!

“Love means doing what God has commanded us, and he has commanded us to love one another.”  2 John 1:6

Our obedience to God comes from our trust that He has only good plans for us. But, sometimes, He calls us out on a limb asking us to do the “unthinkable,” to step out of our comfort zones and even go beyond the restrains of common sense. What then?

I was driving to work one morning, the early morning shift at our local Christian radio station, so the sun wasn’t out yet, when I pulled up to an intersection and waited on the light. I was always a little leery at this point in my commute because the intersection was located right next to a graveyard, and even though I am well settled into my thirties, my childlike imagination does wonders with scenarios like that! Trying not to think about the ghosts hovering near my car, I focused all my attention on the light, until I heard a loud bump and knock on my window. My heart shot into my chest and I turned toward the sound, prepared for the worst. And, there she was.

Her eyes were as wide as any eyes I’d ever seen, or maybe they only seemed that way because it was the only white around her, she was shaking, and it didn’t take much to see that she was in some sort of pain. She was frantic and she was asking me to please roll down the window. I had two thoughts in that moment, “Hit the gas and go!” but the other thought gripped my heart, “She’s hurting, help her.”

Immediately I realized the Voice of the second thought. Shaking and unsure I reached to push the button for the window, as it started coming down, she started pushing it further, which only intensified my fear! She kept saying over and over, “You gotta let me in this car! You gotta help me!”  The fear in her eyes had me looking around. Was there someone chasing her? Were they close? Was I about to die? She kept clawing at the door so I asked her, “Are you in trouble? Where do you need to go?” She grabbed her stomach and bowled over in pain, “The hospital, ma’am. I needa go to the hospital.” I was just processing this, and still looking around for impending danger, and checking her for blood (all in the course of about 30 seconds) when I heard His Voice rattle my heart again, “Let her in.

I went cold. I was still shaking. “You want me to what?” I asked, in my head, of course. “Let her in.” Shaking even worse than before, I unlocked the passenger door. She jumped in quickly, speaking just as fast, and unconsciously I slammed myself against my door to give me some space. Everything in the world, dissolved in that moment as I realized, this was beyond me. Stupidly (fear makes us cowardly), I looked at her and begged, “Please don’t hurt me, I’m gonna take you where you need to go. Please don’t hurt me. Jesus loves you and I’m here to help.”

Let me tell you, none of this was an easy call to obedience, but in my mind I thought, “The hospital is just up the road, just a couple of miles. This is gonna be ok.” So I went through the intersection headed toward the hospital. “Where you going?” she interrupted my thoughts. “The hospital.” Isn’t that what she said. “Oh no, ma’am, not that hospital, the charity hospital!” That was another moment I had to call on God. The charity hospital wasn’t down the street, the charity hospital was across town, about fifteen or twenty minutes from where we were!

I called my cohost and told him I would be late. Needless to say, he thought I was crazy for picking up a hitch-hiker, that was unsafe, that was “STUPID” but he said he would pray for us, and that I understood to mean, “and if I don’t hear from you soon, I’m calling the cops!” All the while across town, I am talking to God, calling on His protection, and asking Him, “Okay, Lord, we are here, what do you want me to say? We have time.” I forced my body language to change. I took a deep breath, but still shaking uncontrollably it came out jagged and unsure. I felt God speak again, “Listen to her story.” So, I said the only thing that came to my mind, “Are you from around here?”

That’s when her story unfolded. She was a Hurricane Katrina transplant. She didn’t look to be more than fifteen or sixteen, but she had the eyes of a woman that knew more than a child should. Her boyfriend had moved her here. She had gotten pregnant, and she wanted that baby, I heard it in the passion in her voice when she talked about it; but she lost it. I looked down at her still extended tummy, she was shaking, but I knew from the way she was talking and from her demeanor that was more from addiction than anything else. She pulled up her shirt and showed me a horrible scar that went the length of her belly, no doctor’s work, I was quite sure. “Dat’s where dey took him.” My heart ached. I didn’t know what to say. Then I reached for her hand, and held it. It was so tiny, and I have tiny hands so if I recognized it as small in my hand it was teeny tiny. She was tiny, all but her extended belly. Then I cried, and the words bubbled out of my heart, “Oh honey, God loves you. He sent me to you today. To listen to your story, and to tell you that He loves you. Jesus saved you. He wants you to be safe and healthy and strong. He loves you so much.”  I don’t know what all I said besides that…it kind of floats in and out at times, remembering telling her that God was looking out for her, that He had a plan for her a better life for her. All the while still shaking, but saying what I knew God wanted to say to this girl.

Before I knew it, we were there. I reluctantly pulled up to the hospital doors, still unsure of what she needed there, probably a fix, but I wasn’t judging her. I didn’t want to let her out the car. But the Voice assured me that I had done what I could.  I gave her some money for a snack and told her to take care, it felt like I was sending one of my daughters in to school, not saying goodbye to a total stranger. She thanked me for the money and I prayed for her, then I watched as she opened the door and placed her feet on the ground. That’s a desperate moment for a heart like mine. I wanted to tell her to stay, that I could find her a job, a place to live, some help, but I didn’t feel like that was my place.  I was fighting back tears, when she turned to face me and smiled. She reached out her hand, “My name is Angelique.” I smiled and took that precious hand again, “It is a pleasure to meet you.” She smiled again and stepped out of the car and shut the door, I watched her walk to the nurse that was standing by the door and prayed for her as she found her way, her place, and her healing. My life forever altered.

That was two years ago, and the irony of her name has never left my heart. But, the lesson to me was this, sometimes God calls us to do the unthinkable, to defy the rules of common sense, and sometimes we see how that all turns out, the fruits or our obedience, the reason why we were asked at all. But, sometimes, like with Angelique we have to trust that our obedience is that single act of love, and God will handle the rest.

“You doubt your value. Don’t run from who you are.”
Aslan, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

Have you ever wanted to run from who you are? To look at all those pieces of you and think, “I don’t want to be this anymore.” You point out your character flaws and your insecurities and your stark, raw afflictions, and you want to run far and wide as fast as you can. I have. I do.

I have looked at myself in the mirror and mourned over what I saw. Tired of loving, of being vulnerable, of opening up my all too battered heart, I left my reflection and ran, aimless and without direction, anywhere but facing the truth. I stumbled down paths of depression and boarded myself up in towers of isolation. I insulated myself by pretending that the hurt I felt was slight compared to the pain of so many others, and I convinced myself that my mask was really my protection. I argued that I knew what was best…for me… for them. And all the while I doubted – my value, His workmanship, my calling.

“Something is wrong with you.”

That’s the voice that enters my head as I take in that self-same reflection, again. And this time, too, I consider running. I’m inches from darting when I hear His voice, louder and softer than my own, but with more authority:
“You can run. I won’t stop you. You can aimlessly wander through paths of pain and sorrow, fighting to get away from what you know is true. You can dismiss that the compassion and passion you feel, that resonates deep and beats rhythmically, is exactly how I created you. You can run from the you I designed and look to be like someone else, a shallower someone more calloused and less affected. I will let you. But you know that at the end of that journey, you’ll find yourself, the you that was always meant to be, in My arms, cuddled in My grace, grateful again for My heart that beats in side of you. So, daughter, why don’t we skip the game of hide and seek, and what do you say we just dance?”

So that’s what I’ve decided. I’m standing tall, looking focused and deeply into that mirror, His face, not wishing I weren’t me but looking to understand why I am. I am gathering up all the pain and the sorrow, the hurt and accusation, and I’m propped up by His feet, and as we sway, He smiles at me, carrying me on, leading me boldly towards myself and catching each tear that falls. And low and behold, if I’m not resembling Him a little more.