Forgiveness must remain

Ah. Life. Ain't it special? Aren't we all?

I have a friend. He did something terrible, frankly, years ago, something that gets you in deep poo with the law. He did it. He doesn't deny it, though there were reasons, real reasons, that I understand.

He and I spent time together talking about the thing, and about other things, and eventually he was baptized in one of my churches.

He moved on. Life picked up and moved with him. Sort of. He was fired by the company we once called home. He had to move. He had to lose part of his life, livelihood and such.

But he made it. Made it through. I pray he knows Christ even more through this struggle.

Then yesterday, someone decided to throw a can of white paint on his apartment window. Someone decided that who they were was better than who he is. Someone appointed themselves jury though they be no judge, when all that has already gone on.

My, oh my. Jesus talked about this in an intimate conversation with Peter, his friend, his colleague, his disciple. "Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times. Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants."

My friend will say till he dies that he shouldn't have done what he attempted to do (but never did, amazingly. Intent is a bugger). He will regret losing his life in that manner. But I pray he lose his life to find it. I did. Many of these readers have.

But come one. When do we, humans all with faults, starting learning to forgive? Ever? Never?

I read this story about forgiveness that I pass along: "I really don't know what you would do with the likes of me?" I cried to God. I had been battered, abused and abandoned as a child. My dad killed himself when I was three and my mom died when I was six. Three of my brothers killed themselves. I was divorced by the time I was twenty-one and as a single parent tried to make a life for me and my son. After two more abusive relationships, I just gave up. It was then that my eight-year-old wanted to take me to church on Mother's Day. I went and didn't like it. The Pastor called on me later and gave me the Gospel. In desperation, I called out to God and He heard me, forgave me and gave me a new life. I am now fifty years old and He has never left me nor forsaken me, just as He promised.(Hebrews 13:5). Marianne.

Forgiveness is not just a trait for God. It is the key to the door of heaven itself. Forgive as you have been forgiven. All of us.

All.