Drinking the Poison

I had fallen asleep in the sunroom listening to Amor Towles’, “The Lincoln Highway.” Waking up a short time later, I stumbled to the bed and pulled the warm heated blanket over me … and that’s when it happened. Like a thief in the night, it attacked me. My breathing got shallow. My heart started racing. My blood pressure rose. My mind went out of control. In an instant, he had jumped me. This villain’s name?

Unforgiveness.

Of course, Unforgiveness doesn’t travel alone. He comes with lawless and fractious friends: Bitterness. Resentment. Anger. Revenge. The mighty five travel together … Unforgiveness being the leader of the pack. He’s the one who calls the shots. Without him, the others have no power. They whimper away with their tails between their legs. Unforgiveness, however, makes it personal, showing up with two weapons in his hands: a person’s name or face in one and a painful situation in the other. 

Oh, this wasn’t the first time I have combated this plunderer. In fact, he has been showing up often as of late. But not with such vengeance. This particular night, every fiber of my being seemed to be involved and affected. Maybe it was due to the hour; night is always worse. Or maybe it was because we had been discussing unforgiveness in my ladies’ study earlier. Or was it because I needed, NEED, a rude awakening in order to face this swindler head on.

It has been said, “Unforgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.” Of course, I don’t want anyone to die, but I am drinking the poison. And the truth is that “other person” doesn’t even have a clue. They are living life to the full, which is the club that Resentment is holding over me.

Gulp. Gulp.

So it seems the problem lies not with them … but with me.

In her book, The White Stone: The Art of Letting Go, Esther de Waal writes, “Increasingly over the years I have come to recognize the extent to which forgiving is about letting go — after all, the Greek that we translate as forgive, aphiemi, means to let go. Perhaps I am hanging on to hurt and grievance, the suffering that brings me the status of victim. Yet every time that I say the Lord’s Prayer, I am being given the chance to say yes to forgiveness.” … She goes on to write, “Our need to forgive and to be forgiven is on a par with our daily need to eat. It is the only obligation in the Lord’s Prayer.” I put a huge asterisk next to that paragraph.

We know that hanging on to bitterness, resentment, anger or revenge can do a lot more damage than the original situation itself, but all of these can be mighty attractive when Unforgiveness comes calling. It actually feels good for a while. That is until your heart starts racing, and your blood pressure goes sky high, and you can’t breathe. Then you start to wonder: maybe I need a new lens — for that person as well as myself. Maybe I need help. Someone stronger than I. 

It’s true, forgiveness doesn’t make the situation all right. It makes me all right. It’s also true that to harbor unforgiveness is to be frozen in the past. To allow another to control me. On the other hand, to forgive sets me free. And when it comes right down to it, the choice is mine. It’s yours. Are we going to hang on with all of our energy until we are completely wiped out? Or are we going to “let go.” In other words, forgive.

The good news is we have a supreme role model Who has not only walked this road before us, but Who now comes along side us. Over and over in the Scriptures we read of this One who exemplified forgiveness. This One who forgave when He had every right to call down fire from heaven. Even to His hanging on a cross, He looked down upon the very ones who had stripped Him and nailed Him there, and with compassion prayed, “Father, forgive them.” 

I think it’s time I put down my vial of poison and hold my hand up to this thief and say, “No more! I forgive!” It might take me a hundred times of doing so, but each time weakens him a bit more and loosens my chains a little in the meantime, setting me on a trajectory toward freedom.

Until that day, my mantra will be, “I forgive. I am forgiven.” It’s a tall order; but it’s the correct one. It’s the holy way. 

So what about you? Got any vials laying around your place?