Forgiveness Isn't Easy

So, I received a note today from my father asking me and my siblings to encourage my mother via notes/calls because she is writing papers for school and it is really wearing on her.

My first reaction was, "I totally know how that goes." I can remember the agony of trying to find all my sources, the temptation to change the font so that I could end my misery sooner, and the late nights I sat with my laptop trying to finish my paper which was due the next day. I could understand the frustration and how much a word of encouragement would mean in this situation.

But then I had a second reaction: "You hardly ever called me when I was in college, and now you're asking me to think about your situation, feel bad for you, and try to encourage you? The nerve!"

(Enter appropriate Christian response: Forgiveness)

As I grow older, I find that forgiveness is an essential ingredient in healthy relationships. Forgiveness is a choice. Choose to withhold it, you will lead a miserable life clinging to the wrongs others have done to you, growing ever more bitter as the years go on. In essence, you choose slavery to bitterness. Choose to give it, you open a door to freedom-- freedom to love and enjoy living.

In the case with my parents, I have had to forgive them time and again for the things they have done that hurt me (most things being unintentional). Every time it has been genuine. The thing that is annoying, however, is that even though I've had those moments where it's me and God, my Bible, a piece of paper and a pen, and I've worked through these issues, laid them at the cross and forgiven them, something always happens afterwards that pinches a nerve and reminds me of what was past.

I believe these are character testing experiences in which I get to prove that I am practicing the faith that I preach. Sometimes I pass and sometimes I fail. In this particular instance, I believe I failed. Instead of keeping my mouth shut, I took the opportunity to remind my dad of how neither he nor my mother ever called to encourage me when I was stressed out. This bothered me because I knew I had forgiven them already. Now, I had already made up my mind to make sure I did try to encourage my mom, but the fact that I could not restrain myself of reminding my father of his wrong to me somehow took the true meaning out of doing a good deed for my mother.