On Forgiveness

I've been writing a lot about choices lately, choices to be thankful, choices to look at the truth instead of what we really want to hear. Today, though, I want to discuss one more, and that is the choice of forgiveness.

I know every one of my readers struggles with forgiveness, whether it's forgiving someone who has hurt you, someone who won't forgive you for a mistake, or perhaps even forgiving yourself. 

And so I want to tell you my story. It's not a story that defines me because I've found that we create our own definitions of self, that choices made by others cannot define us unless we go through life seeing ourselves as victims. This is not a story that I'm willing to give any more power over my life. 

On Pride

I have a problem with pride. I care too much about how I appear to others, and nothing is ever quite good enough for me.

As I've blogged about many times before, perfectionism is something I struggle against often. From my career path as an English teacher and editor to my calling to be a mom, I have focused on the ideal. I strive to be organized, to have a neat house, to volunteer, and to develop and maintain good habits.

While I don't really consider myself a competitive person with others, I am always, always in competition with myself. Am I better than I was yesterday? Am I stronger, bolder, smarter, more compassionate? And while the appearance of this inner competition makes me appear motivated, the truth is that I sometimes struggle to accept myself the way I am today and love myself the way Jesus loves me.

Do the Right Thing

When I was in high school in the mid and late eighties, lunchtime was rather chaotic. The whole student body would stand in the school hallway, jockeying for position at the front of the crowd as one harried teacher would call out which class was next to get into the cafeteria. Being in close proximity and being teenagers, there was your regular amount of horseplay...as well as some that crossed over the line into bullying.

One day as I stood against the lockers, I watched an underclassman become the victim of pinball, when students take turns pushing the kid back and forth to each other, and they verbally taunted him the whole time. Now, because of some circumstances in my life at that time, I happened to know more about this boy than others did. He came from a troubled home. He alone was responsible for the family finances, the shopping, and other aspects that parents should really be handling.

And on a Personal Note. . .

My desire to blog started when I noticed over and over how many of my young teenage friends (mostly those I met through TEC weekends) were posting Bible verses, praise to God, and prayer requests. Though I knew from talking with them how many of them had strong relationships with God, it was (and is) inspirational to me to read Facebook status updates about their spiritual walks.

That's when I realized that I have not been the transparent Christian that I need to be.

My Road Rage Blessing

Have you ever driven somewhere only to realize that you only remember half the trip?

I used to drive 18 miles to work in Hawarden. On the way to and fro, my mind would get lost in my plans. Those 18 miles were an escape, a time to think. Unfortunately, I wasn't always thinking quite enough about driving.

One odd mile and a quarter-long stretch of road had two stop signs. These signs were in the middle of nowhere, just a place where various roads met up in an unusual configuration.

On this particular day, I noticed that a lady was trying to flag me down, and she was anything but happy with me. "Do you realize you just ran that stop sign?" she asked.

I had no idea at all. I rarely saw more than five cars on my way to work each morning, so evidently I was allowing myself to zone out while driving that particular stretch of lonesome road.

My mouth fell open. How to respond? I thought. After a moment, I told her no, I didn't realize I'd run the stop sign and then proceeded to offer profuse thanks for stopping me to tell me. It was her turn to let her jaw drop.

That woman (whose name I did not ask) could very well have saved my life or another person's life. I think we all know people who have died after running stop signs or have been T-boned by someone who has made that mistake. It had to take a little bravery on her part to stand up to me, someone whom she didn't know, and someone who probably could have responded in an entirely different way.

Unfortunately, it's not always that easy. It's much more convenient to act defiant and defensive, especially when someone holds me accountable for something that I know is true. I need to remember, though, that holding someone accountable in a loving way (and trust me, loving is the operative word) is loyal. It is true. It is just.

Being judgmental and holding someone accountable are two completely different things. Being judgmental is complaining  about someone without giving him a chance to improve. Being judgmental makes forgiveness and reconciliation difficult. Accountability, on the other hand, shows the other person that you know he is capable of being better, of becoming a bigger person. Holding someone accountable is humbling both for the giver and the receiver.

Keep this mind next time someone who cares about you approaches you with the difficult task of holding you accountable. Remember that in doing so, he is considering you worthy of the personal cost.

The Truth about Us

My seven-year-old son brings a tremendous amount of joy to my life. Recently as he was playing with his Matchbox cars, he held up a yellow car that had the word Charger written on it and said, "You know, I thought this was a Dodge Charger, but look!" He turned over this car as well as about five others. "They are all Thailands."

After I explained that Thailand is where the cars were made, we chuckled about it together. Now I can't help but make another metaphor. (It's a weakness. Please bear with me.)

Matchbox cars aren't that much different from people.

Sometimes I look at someone who seems to have it all: new car, beautiful home, nuclear family, but when I look at the family from a different perspective, I realize that things aren't as right as they seem. The family is in deep debt, the marriage is rocky, or one child's health is deteriorating.

I sometimes forget that we're all the same and judge a person's worth by how he appears on the outside—not merely physical appearance, but prestige and reputation as well.

As Christians, especially, it's so important that we remember that we have all come from the same place—a dark, hurting place that was once apart from God. We like to show everyone our shiny exteriors, the ones with the name brand clothing, the cool job, or the college degrees. We love the illusion of perfection. Instead, we just need keep in mind that deep down, we're all Thailands, saved by the amazing grace of the One who came to tell us that we are special not because we're better, but because we're His.