I've received a lot of cuts over the course of the 45 years I've walked on this earth. Many of them were self-induced, like the time I pretended to be Superman in the back seat of my grandma's station wagon. I had suspended my upper torso over the top of the front seat while dangling my legs over the top of the back seat, and then, with arms thrust out, I yelled, "Look! It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's--" I didn't get the last part out. Did I mention that my grandmother was driving at the time? She hit the brakes, and I actually went airborne--for all of about two feet--until I landed face-first into the dash and split my forehead open. That could be why I'm more of a Marvel comics fan these days, and perhaps why I'm addled enough to do what I do.
I've also tried high-jumping over a barbed wire fence (to escape an angry pit bull), attempted to carry a melted trash can that had jagged pieces of glass embedded in it, and caught my hand on an upturned corner of sheet metal as I tried to dunk a basketball. I have the scars to prove it.
But the scars that hurt me the most are the ones you can't see. They're the scars I've received from other's words and actions.
You know what I mean if you've ever:
- Been lied to or about by a close friend.
- Been belittled by someone you admired.
- Been betrayed by someone you love.
- Been the butt of jokes.
- Been picked on by a bully.
These and other experiences in my life have persuaded me that whoever wrote the song "Sticks and Stones" must have been a deaf hermit. The words and actions of others hurt way more than physical blows, and they leave much deeper scars.
But here's the deal. In each of all the scenarios I listed above, I have to say that I've also been on the giving end. I've lied to or about close friends, belittled others, betrayed someone I love, made cutting jokes about others, and bullied yet more.
We're all broken people, and broken people have sharp edges.
I think that's why Jesus made forgiving one another such a high priority for his followers. He knew that if we were going to stick together, odds were that we'd come into contact with the sharp edges of those around us, and we'd get cut.
I've seen people handle these kinds of cuts in different ways. Some choose to avoid as much contact as they can. They isolate themselves from others, placing themselves in a social bubble. But man was not made to live alone, and such a tactic leads to an empty life. German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer likened these people to porcupines on a cold winter's night, who unable to huddle together because of their sharp quills, drifted apart and froze to death.
Still others choose to pick at the scabs, keeping the wounds fresh and bleeding. Refusing to let the hurt the go, they nurse it, dwell on it, allow a root of bitterness to grow within them until their entire existence is consumed by nothing more than pain, anger, and hatred. Such people are miserable, and, quite frankly, are miserable to be around.
There is a better way. It is to allow God's grace to do more than simply wash us clean; it is to allow his grace to heal our cuts and to soften our edges. When we realize the amazing depth of God's relentless love for us, that despite all the wrongs we have done to him, he offers us forgiveness, how can we not but forgive others?
The first step in releasing others from what they've done to us is to realize that in Christ Jesus, God has released us from what we've done to him. In order for us to dispense grace, we must first receive it ourselves.
The next time I get cut, I'm going to do my best to apply God's grace and extend forgiveness to the one who inflicted it. I think the church would be a much better example of God's love if we all tried the same.
No comments:
Post a Comment