“Honestly, I think the One I needed to forgive most was You.“
I write the words, feeling them to my bones. Panic immediately hits and I rush to explain myself. “Not to say You’ve done anything wrong. You don’t. You won’t. And You can’t.“
A deep breath. Did I just say that to God? Is that even allowed?
I keep writing, my heart bleeding across the page as ink mingles with tears. “Oh, but it’s certainly felt like it at times. It’s certainly felt like You hurt me on purpose, made things hard on purpose, and I held that against You for a long time.“
I set the pen down and close my eyes against the tears, against the memories, against the pain and the questions. So many questions. Why did it have to go this way? Why did he walk away? Why did she have to die? Why is it taking so long? Why does all of this feel so hard?
But I feel it. Like a sigh of relief. Like finally breaking the surface after drowning in the deep end. This is healing. And I’m not angry or hurt or bitter. I’m looking my soul straight through and finally setting my eyes on the incision that has cut the deepest.
Wonder of all wonders, I trace the wounds of my faith and find they are somehow covered with love.
Pen meets paper again, my words tripping over themselves as they tumble from my spirit. “I’ve had to forgive You, to soften this heart toward You, to realize I’m the one who desperately needs forgiveness. My emotions are such liars. The enemy whispered into them and I believed what I thought I saw over the truth of who You are.
And I thought I had to forgive You? God, help me.”
I bow my head, giving God a moment of silence. Giving my heart time to accept. And when the moment is over, when I’ve searched and I know I mean it in every corner of my soul, I write again. The words come out like breathing a prayer and I suppose that I am. Because I don’t know what it will look like and I’m not sure what it will require, but I know it is true.
“You’ve always been in my corner, Lord. Now I want to be in Yours.“