To Forgive and Be Forgiven
by Elizabeth Esther in Faith on Wednesday, September 15, 2010 6:00 AM
When I opened the door to the Confessional, I knew I needed God’s forgiveness. What I didn’t know was that I was also opening the door to forgiving others. Had I known, I might have skipped Confession that day. The truth was, I wanted forgiveness but I didn’t want to forgive.
I’d been holding onto my pain for so long that it had somehow become a part of me—I was my pain.
But just a few days earlier, I’d come across some words by St. Francis of Paola:
“Pardon one another so that later on you will not remember the injury. The recollection of an injury … adds to our anger. It is a rusty arrow and poison for the soul.”
It was an admonition I’d ignored for far too long. Part of the difficulty for me was that I’d been hurt by people who should have known better—other Christians in positions of authority. Their actions not only hurt me, but also (because I was young), gave me a very warped idea of God. And even though I’d grown up and moved on in many ways, I guess a part of me was still waiting around for them to acknowledge their sin and apologize to me.
Well, God had a different plan.
As a former Protestant fundamentalist, going to Confession was already a foreign and complicated process for me. I got all tongue-tied and embarrassed. The first few times I went to Confession, I secretly thought it was just a bunch of “empty ritual” (a phrase we fundies liked to say), sort of like the boring paperwork one needs to do before sealing a deal. I viewed Confession as the boring paperwork necessary for receiving the Eucharist. And that’s when God decided to give me a glimpse of my pride.
It was already clear to me that my unforgiving attitude toward others was having some unpleasant side-effects. A mild grumpiness toward certain people had slowly grown to a perpetual state of defensiveness. Eventually, I viewed most of these people with thinly veiled disgust. An unforgiving attitude was becoming part of my character. The rusty arrow was poisoning my soul.
One day in the Confessional, I finally blurted out that I’d been holding unforgiveness in my heart. The priest was very gentle with me—which was good since I was sobbing with wild abandon—and reminded me that the work of God is not accomplished by our own methods. It took a couple more (humiliating but efficacious!) trips to the Confessional, before my heart was finally soft enough to start truly forgiving. It was almost as if the poison was slowly draining out of my soul.
The first thing that happened was that I stopped needing to talk about my pain. Sure, it was nice to get validation from people who listened to me but it was nothing in comparison to the healing I experienced in the Confessional. The second thing that happened was a freeing up of mental space. I guess I never realized how much mental energy I was directing toward remembering, rehashing and reminiscing about my past. It was positively refreshing to let go of thinking about it all the time.
Lastly, something quite unexpected began to happen. I started remembering good things. I was reminded of all the many blessings God had given me—even during a time I would generally describe as spiritually oppressive. My tendency has been to make a harsh negative judgment against my fundamentalist past. What is happening now is that I’m able to see the good that happened as well.
When I was stuck in an unforgiving state, I was simply unable to see the positive aspects of my childhood experience. I can’t tell you how glad I am that God, in His faithfulness, has given us the gift of Confession. It has brought the bright sunshine of Hope back into my life. And I am so, so grateful.
—Elizabeth Esther Henderson is a mother of five, writer and eater of Mint Milanos. She blogs at ElizabethEsther.com
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