If you’re reading this, it’s because I didn’t delete this post on Monday before it was supposed to be published.
This could mean everything went without a hitch…
But more probably I’m freaking out. Distressed. Heartbroken even, worse than I am right now.
What am I talking about?
This Monday, February 28, 2022, at 2pm CST, I’ll tell my best friend that I forgive her.
If that statement sounded like a sledge hammer crashing into a glass surface, that was intentional.
When I shared my plan at my small group last week, one of the ladies said I was brave. For a split second, I was bolstered.
Then I thought about it.
If bravery is knowing something has to be done and not wanting to do it, but then doing it anyway, then maybe I am brave.
But I don’t think so.
I think of brave souls as those who are terrified, but at least want to save those helpless people in the burning building.
See the difference?
I’m not brave.
I’m currently hoping I come down with COVID-19 before Monday. Or my friend does. Or anything to avoid this.
It’s the same pressure in my chest as when I know my dentist appointment is coming up in a few days…except on Monday I’m not worried about a dentist bill for fillings.
I’m worried this isn’t going to work.
I’m worried the pain will still be there when I leave her house.
I’m worried I’ll put on a sweet façade like I’ve done millions of times before—for better reasons—and nothing will be accomplished. I’ll go home to cry. And complain. And have dark thoughts when I think of her…
I’ll still be trapped as I have been for the last three years in the grief and shock of when she and her husband left our church without warning, without a proper good-bye.
I’ll still be hurt and aching, and looking desperately for release.
And I’ll still love her desperately. The betrayal still having me bleed inside. Still wanting to avoid life, avoid relationships, avoid altruism, and hunker into the hole of depression and never surface.
I’ll say I’m okay, but when her daughter’s birthday comes around, or I pass by somewhere we took our kids, or someone mentions a memory of her in it, and it all rushes back…
“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned, the flames will not set you ablaze.” Isaiah 43:2
So, I made the appointment.
“Appointment” in the disguise of bringing her daughter a birthday present for turning ten years old on February 23. And, of course, staying for a playdate.
Shameless, really.
In my defense, this wasn’t what I planned when I texted her a week ago. Yes, I wanted to drop the present off…but really, I needed to tell my friend how I have decided to release her from my own judgement… And I how I had to tell her in person.
Don’t get me wrong. I would love to send her a text instead!
But I know it won’t be effective. It won’t be effective for me. She might get the message…but the transaction doesn’t work if I don’t bleed a little. If I don’t give her a chance to dig around a bit, ask questions, gush how sorry she is.
To let the sacrifice of what I’m doing hurt.
And I’m also doing this in-person for her.
I’m beginning to realize she doesn’t know how hurt I was (and still am). That she did it all wrong.
My heart softens (as hard as that is to admit) that this pain was unintentional. Injustice? Betrayal? That doesn’t come into play since she never meant to hurt me.
If I were honest…
I hope she doesn’t feel too sad—I want justice. I want her to know how badly I’ve been hurt and I want her to bleed a little, ache a little for what she put me through.
But that’s not forgiveness. That’s not grace. That’s not why Christ died on the cross.
And that’s not even going to help. What will I gain if I leave her upset? Forgiveness should strengthen a soul, not tear someone down.
Right?
Making her sad is not why I’m going to her house on Monday.
I don’t want an apology; I want change.
Because on the flip side, she needs to know.
Maybe from our conversation Monday, I can rescue my former friend from putting another relationship decade-long relationship in the flames.And maybe I call her a friend once more.
No. Maybe I can be a friend once again. Vulnerable. Soft. A conduit of God’s love… For her. For someone else.
Maybe be an impact in her life again. And maybe she in mine.
And maybe let God be my Defender again. My Provider, Shepherd, Righteous King… Everything He promised, but that I’ve resisted believing for the last three years in constant fear I’ll be burned again.
Maybe I can be healed.
If you’re reading this…
I haven’t shut down my website. I haven’t deleted an ebook I’ve written on forgiveness.
If you’re reading this, then God is good. Glorious. Gracious. Generous.
And after I’ve brushed the dust off my pants and washed the swollenness from my face, I’ll be back for you to read more. Because you and I know, if Christ is on the throne and there is breath in my lungs, God’s not done with me yet.
‘Til then…
Like what you've read? I'm also on Facebook and Twitter!“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Ephesians 2:10
