Forgiveness

This is a fictional description of how we must all look in our hearts for times we have not forgiven.

                                     HOW COULD SHE FORGIVE HIM?

                                                                By

                                                Janet Baird Weisiger             

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do”.    Luke 23:34  NKJ

Barbara entered the large stone church quietly, the funeral service already in progress.  Slipping into the back pew she was relieved no one noticed her.  Everything looked the same as she remembered.  Six years had seemed like a long time but she realized nothing had changed.  She glanced at the polite, meager gathering of mourners.  For a man who had been pastor of this church for 20 years, one might have been surprised at the small turnout.  She wasn’t.

The dark polished coffin sat silent and bare.  She was glad she would not have to look at the face. She shivered, not from cold, for it was a warm spring day.….the day before Easter, to be exact.  She had seen the notice in the paper, the familiar last name…one she shared with the man in the coffin.

She had come to pay her respects; at least that was what people would expect her to do.  But it was more than that.  She had come to forgive that dead man lying in his closed box.   She had come to forgive her father. 

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do”.  He dragged the heavy wooden cross through the streets….People screamed.….CRUCIFY CRUCIFY.!     

“Oh Lord, I can’t!”  She cried within herself.  The painful memories flooded her vision…..tortured memories….awful things.. buried deep within her.   

“Oh God….I don’t want to remember…..I can’t forgive him!’

“Father, forgive them, they do not know…..”  The spikes tore into His flesh, ripping tendon and muscle, driving deep into the wood.

She was a little girl again, half asleep, the creak of her door opening, then his weight upon her, the groping, the firm hand across her mouth.  Her mother, sick, always sick.   She was confused.   What he was doing?   It was wrong.  Why did he do it?   Then one night he was touching her and …

            “Oh God….I can’t deal with this…not now…”

“Father, forgive them………. His body recoiled as the cross was slammed into the ground.  He hung there, His weight drawing Him down.  He struggled to raise Himself, gasping for air , His tortured body screaming in pain.  But He never uttered a cry……..

The shame!  Oh,..how could she ever forgive him for her shame?  No one would believe that her father, pastor of the prestigious First Church, sexually abused his own daughter!  She hated him, hated his hypocrisy, hated his haughty ways, hated his painted smile.

 And so, when she was 16, after her mother died, she ran away.

            All those years of ugliness, denial, and pain.  How often she had wanted to cry out to tell someone.  But who would believe her?  Certainly not the elders of this church.  They would probably conclude that she was the guilty one, maybe even censure her from the church, label her ‘tramp’.   Oh no, she couldn’t

trust anyone with this deep hidden secret. 

            But God knew.  He knew everything about her.  He knew about those times when she lay there in confusion, when she hated herself.  Yes, God even knew how she hated that one lying there in his coffin. 

Strange, she knew she never hated God.   Somehow, she had always felt His presence.  Even during those blackest moments when she experienced total abandonment by her parents, she heard the whisper of His presence.  But why did God allow the horror?  Was there some reason yet unknown to her?  For always deep within her, the Spirit of God gently caressed her, reminding her of His great love for her.  Somehow she knew she must trust Him for the unknowable.

Now her father was dead.   He couldn’t hurt her any longer.  Why did she have to deal with anything?  She started to leave the church, but something held her back.  God would not let her leave.

           

That was why she was here.  God had led her… here… to this place… on this day.  She had to take care of unfinished business.  God wanted her to cleanse away that disgusting hatred.  It became clear to her now.  How could He use her for any purpose if she harbored this cancer of hate?  Her ugly hate, her sin, was as great a sin as the sin committed by her father.

She was a SINNER!  And until she forgave her earthly father for his sin against her, how could she expect her Heavenly Father to forgive her for her hate?  The question stunned her.  And then she knew what she had to do.

“Father, forgive them for they do not know what they do.” 

The Son of God, the Savior of the world, forgave those who put Him to death.  She now had to forgive the one who had tortured her.

            She knelt down in the great stone church and slowly let God take control. 

“Help me, God!”     The sobs welled up within her.  “Forgive me, God, I am a sinner, too.  Forgive me for hating him.”  The words formed slowly, hardly audible. 

“And….yes…I..forgive… you,  ..Daddy….Oh,…. yes,…. I do forgive you!”  Weeping uncontrollably, she collapsed onto her knees.

Tears of cleansing and relief washed over her.

The healing had begun.