In chapel this morning a talented couple acted out a drama of forgiveness. It is dramatic. It could be the healing heartbeat of all our days. But it isn't easy. It is an act of the will. The giving of forgiveness can happen even from a frosted over heart. And when we forgive in spite of the chill, we can finally begin to thaw.
Yet it's so overwhelming. There is so much to forgive.
But how much did He forgive me? He for-gave. For He gave His only Son...
He knew what the weight of all our sin would be like, and He still gives to for-give. We crushed Him and grace of the giving poured out. We pierced Him and waters of mercy showered us. We broke Him and love overwhelmed like a healing.
What can I give? How do I for-give?
When your silence sears me white right through and I know the blisters pregnant with tears will surface soon, what can I give? How do I for-give?
When your awkward questions reveal your judging insecurity and the turtle in me comes out to cringe back in, what can I give? How do I for-give?
When your attempts at loving really rub me raw and you don't see the redness rising, what can I give? How do I for-give?
When the pouring out of a shared life only crushes me under all this weight, what can I give? How do I for-give?
When you reap joy and blessings that I prayed over you but I can't admit how much I regret not praying some over me too and the bitterness of a lost chance haunts me, what can I give? How do I for-give?
When you draw out the separation so that the wound finally gapes so much larger than necessary, what can I give? How do I for-give?
And I'm hoping that all this crushing and piercing and breaking of me reveals that what is inside is the stuff of the Saviour, the One who was given. That what pours out of the blisters and the torn-through side and the wrung-dry heart is thanksgivng grace and mercy and supernatural love.
He teaches how to for-give by opening thankful eyes to all He has given, even in the pain of death that requires this lesson.