Amy Boucher Pye

Tag: forgiveness

  • Forgiveness Fridays: The miracle to forgive even a murderer

    When writing The Living Cross, I was moved by the extraordinary stories of people who were able to forgive those who murdered someone close to them. After reading several of these accounts, I attributed this special grace to not only God’s working in their lives, but the way their character had been formed over years of forgiving the everyday slights and faults. As we ponder the horrible atrocities that seem to come thick and fast in our world –  such as the killing of many young people at the concert in Manchester – we can find encouragement and hope in the stories of forgiveness.

    The family of Robert Godwin Sr. exhibited God’s love and forgiveness to the murderer of their dad. (In a shocking move, the man who shot Mr. Godwin posted the murder on Facebook.) Two of Mr. Godwin’s daughters, Debbie Godwin and Tonya Godwin Baines, were interviewed on CNN by Anderson Cooper before the murderer was located by the police. They shared how their father was a peaceable man; “a loving, kind man who loved his family and who was very giving – he’d give the shirt off of his back.” He was the father of five daughters.

    Cooper asked her about her father’s killer. “If this person is out there listening, what do you want them to know? Obviously, you want them to turn themselves in, but what do you want to say to them?”

    “I would say turn yourself in, that would be number one,” Debbie Godwin said. “I mean because although I do believe in forgiveness, I do believe in the law… when you break the law, there’s a penalty for breaking the law. And this man broke the law by taking my father’s life.

    “And so although I forgive him, there is still a penalty that he must pay for what he did to my dad. And so I would want him to turn himself in.”

    In the interview we see some of the strength and depth of her character, for she said, “And you know what, I believe that God would give me the grace to even embrace this man. And hug him.

    “…It’s just the way my heart is; it’s the right thing to do. And so, I just would want him to know that even in his worst state, he’s loved … by God, that God loves him, even in the bad stuff that he did to my dad. That he’s still loved. And that he has some worth … in him. And as long as there’s life in him, there is hope for him too.”

    Tonya Godwin Baines added, “The thing that I would take away the most from my father is he taught us about God. How to fear God. How to love God. And how to forgive. Each one of us forgives the killer. The murderer.”

    “You do?” Cooper asked.

    Debbie said, “We absolutely do. I honestly can say right now that I hold no animosity in my heart against this man. Because I know that he’s a sick individual…

    “If I didn’t know Him as my God and my savior, I could not forgive that man. And I feel no animosity against him at all. Actually, I feel sadness for him.”

    Tonya added, “We’ve lost our dad, but this mother lost her son…”

    Cooper commented that it was incredible that they could think of others even in their time of grief.

    “It’s just what our parents taught,” she responded. “It’s not just that they taught us, they did it. They lived it.

    “My dad would be really proud of us, and … he would say, ‘Tonya, forgive him, because they know not what they do.’”

  • Forgiveness Fridays: When nations repent by Sheila Johnson

    What happens when nations repent? How does God honor the prayers of his people seeking forgiveness for those atrocities committed by governments? I don’t claim to know the answer to that mystery, but I also don’t want to discount how he might hear our cries. What do you think?

    Although I was born in the UK, my mother was a New Zealander, so I feel a certain attachment to the land and my many relations. To date I have visited there three times. Therefore, at a recent Lydia prayer conference, my ears pricked up when the speaker, a David Tidy of Prayer Warriors International, began talking about his recent visits to New Zealand and the need for the British to repent over their actions towards the indigenous people, the Maoris.

    When Captain James Cook arrived in the islands in 1770, a spirit of division, colonialism, legalism and land-grabbing entered the islands. Indeed, the New Zealand Company, which was in charge of encouraging the British settlers to emigrate, took land, often forcibly from the indigenous Maori population. This resulted in bitter land wars, violence and death, with Freemasonary being a very strong influence behind the British Colonialism.

    Early on in their three years of visits between 2012–15, David Tidy and the British team visited Waitangi where the treaty establishing British rule was signed in 1840. Here they instigated a new spiritual declaration, which was signed by local Maori believers on the backs of both the British and Maoris at the same spot. Repentance was declared for bringing in immorality, alcohol, broken promises and war, and forgiveness was declared. The vision of a ‘land octopus’ was seen by a number of intercessors, its head based in Westminster and its tentacles spreading out of the Bay of Islands in the north of the north island right over the whole of the two New Zealand islands. This repentance went into the very parliament building of the Beehive in Wellington where a meeting took place in the Maori room of the Beehive and the team knelt before two Maori MPs.

    The Beehive
    Detail of wall carvings from Maori Committee meeting room

    Then the octopus of Landlordism and Pride which the Maoris had seen sitting over the parliament building and thrashing its tentacles was prayed against as the team confessed the iniquity of colonialism and Westminster legalism over the Maori people. The team prayed for the severing of the head of this destructive image. In its place, an image of a jug pouring milk, representing a healing balm, was seen as a vision poured over the entire map of New Zealand.

    Tears flowed as the rawness and genuineness of the repentance was accepted by the Maori people and a new spirit was established allowing liberty and creating an environment where the Holy Spirit would be free to let people make their own choices whether or not to follow Jesus.

    This has been followed up by the New Zealand government who have issued a public apology for their unlawful actions allowed during the nineteenth-century land wars, followed by a final land settlement agreement between the various tribes and the Crown.

    Tarureka Estate (now a popular wedding venue)

    All this national history and repentance means a lot to me, not just because of my family background but also because I am currently writing a book based on my Scottish ancestors who went out to New Zealand in the nineteenth century. Interestingly enough, these were my Father’s ancestors and not my Mother’s. Yes, he too had connections with New Zealand, although in the farming community. My book is about a James Douglas who goes out to New Zealand on the encouragement of the New Zealand Company because, like many, he is told of all this cheap available land for farming and so he eventually sets up a dairy farm there. Now, I have discovered that it wasn’t cheap, available land at all but stolen land, land often flowing with bitterness and blood. I’m not sure that I can use all this information in my book, Tarureka, but it certainly puts a different complexion on the story and helps the twenty-first-century reader to see the character’s experiences in the new land in a slightly different light.

    Sheila Johnson, a UK-based writer, has over ten years’ experience as a successful freelance journalist. She writes fiction under the name of Sheila Donald, and in 2016, self-published a Christian romance based around an Alpha Course, called Alpha Male. Tarureka is her second book fictionalising the story of her Scottish ancestors’ life in New Zealand in the nineteenth century.

    When not writing, Sheila enjoys singing, history, films, the theatre, cooking and Formula One racing.

  • Forgiveness Fridays: Forgiving Hitler? by Veronica Zundel

    When is it our place to forgive? Are we being presumptuous when we forgive someone who hasn’t hurt us directly, but who hurt someone close to us? Veronica Zundel poses some important questions to ponder. Do we have the right to forgive?

    Don’t laugh, but I find it much easier to forgive people once they’re dead. Yes, I know they can no longer apologize, but they key thing is, neither can they repeat the behaviour that caused me such hurt. The thing is, I find it hard to forgive someone who I know perfectly well is going to do it again, and again, because that’s what they do. They are a person who carps, or undermines, or pushes boundaries continually. And deep down, I feel they ought to be punished. Or at least to be told the truth of what they’re doing – only being a coward, I’m not going to be the one who tells them. Besides, my feelings of being hard done by seem so unconvincing once I put them into words. Is that really worth making such a fuss about?

    And another thing: how do I forgive someone who has not offended me directly, but has hurt someone close to me? Is it my place to forgive Hitler, or his subordinates, for what they did to my close family – forcing my parents to flee their home, and then killing my grandmother, great-aunt and great-uncle in a concentration camp? Clearly, it has affected my own history and my own emotions, but isn’t it for those who suffered to forgive? Or on a lesser level, can I forgive the ‘demon headmaster’ at my son’s school (who was also known as ‘Hitler’ to the pupils) for what he did to children with special needs? After all, it wasn’t done to me, and my son got off relatively lightly. The same applies to successive governments whose policies had and have horrendous effects on the poor and vulnerable – is it my place to forgive, when I wasn’t one of those affected?

    Most significantly right now, can I forgive my beloved church, the mainstay of my life for 24 years, for closing down? Or its parent body for closing five years earlier, which led directly to the dwindling of the church? The fact is, I’m just not very good at forgiving – in fact I’m much better at finding excuses why I shouldn’t. I’ve always had a keen sense of justice, and forgiving just doesn’t seem fair.

    Members of my church eating together.

    I know that God’s forgiveness of me is supposed to be the basis for my forgiving others. But I became a Christian at 16, before I’d had the chance to do much dramatic sinning, so sometimes I find it hard to see myself as ever having been a great sinner. Others who can see me more clearly may disagree… The saving grace is, the older I get, the more I see my own faults; and the more I realize that God, in fact, forgives me umpteen failures and deliberate choices day by day.

    Ultimately, I know my difficulty with forgiveness causes more harm to me than to the people against whom I bear a grudge – who probably don’t even know the effect they had on me. And my inability to forgive easily makes me more aware how much I rely on the Spirit of God to help me – which is why a couple of years ago my ‘prayer for the year’ was that God would teach me how to forgive. All learning is a process, so maybe I can start with those who’ve left us, and gradually progress to forgiving those who are still alive – even if I know they are almost certain to do it again. One day I might even manage seventy times seven….

    Veronica Zundel is a freelance writer for the Christian market, currently studying for an MA in Writing Poetry, and undergoing cancer treatment. She lives in North London with her husband, adult son and a large, fluffy cat inclined to sudden biting.

  • Forgiveness Fridays: When there doesn’t seem much to forgive by Philippa Linton

    Forgiveness is key, but what about when we don’t feel like we have much we need forgiving? I love Philippa’s exploration of this topic, and when I lead retreats, I emphasize that this may be the case for some of the participants. We have the freedom not to go digging!

    Have you ever been on a retreat where the participants are asked to make a list of people they need to forgive and then destroy that list as a symbolic act of forgiveness and relinquishment?

    The retreatants choose a quiet place within the venue – the chapel, the art room, the garden, the lake – in order to reflect and write. They are given plenty of time in which to do it – 45 minutes, an hour. And people write reams. They write pages. Long lists of people to forgive: abusive parents or partners, adulterous spouses, insensitive doctors, vicious bullies, family feuds, appalling treatment from churches – gut-wrenching stuff, devastating wounds which are anything but easy to forgive. I’ve been to workshops led by sexual abuse survivors who talk about how it’s possible to forgive the perpetrator (in addition to seeking justice, because a serious crime has been committed) and I marvel at these people who show such courage and grace.

    I’ve taken part in exercises like this and I find it hard. For an unexpected reason though: not because my list of people to forgive is long, but because it’s so short. Usually only about three people come to mind. I can never quite believe it’s so few. Have I sailed through life so serenely that I only need to forgive three people? Seriously? Am I in denial?

    Here they are:

    1.The snappy cookery teacher who, astonished by my eleven-year-old incompetence, shouted at me and humiliated me in front of the entire class. Forty-three years later, the sting has gone out of that ancient memory. Just about.

    2. The good friend who once told me some ‘home truths’ which missed the mark. I had often valued her wise counsel and support, but on this occasion I found her words harsh and ill-judged – to be fair, this was the only time in our friendship this happened, but the people we love the most can hurt us the most, and I was deeply stung by her words. (It wasn’t so much what she said as the way she said it …) I composed a cold, cutting reply in my head. I was even tempted to send a curt e-mail terminating the friendship (I’m very glad I didn’t!) In the end I avoided the issue, which was both cowardly and unfruitful, because I then brooded over it for years. It would have been better to be honest with my friend and confessed to her that she’d hurt me, yet without falling into the trap of being bitter, accusing and unforgiving. I have now forgiven her (thanks largely to a sweet gesture on her part) and the friendship is restored and flourishes – I would not be without this friend in my life. But the incident showed me that I am more than capable of holding one heck of a grudge.

    3. My birth father. This is my weirdest example, because I never met my birth father or knew him. I can barely even remember his name. He has less substance in my life than a ghost, yet his existence casts a shadow. He was 26 when he dated my birth mother and when she got pregnant (with me), he abandoned both of us in the fifth month of the pregnancy, leaving my unmarried teenage mum to face the music alone. God made up the deficit by giving me a wonderful adoptive father who was everything a father should be – Dad was kind and funny, and hugely affirming of his daughters. But the fear of abandonment – the unconscious expectation that every man I am interested in will not return that interest – has cast a long shadow over my life. I realise I do have to forgive the man who was, to be blunt, no more than a sperm donor: it’s tempting to regard that primal abandonment by him as an excuse for avoiding intimacy.

    I’ve had a reasonably happy and secure life, yet not having that much to forgive has not made me a person who forgives that easily. Rejection by a parent is weighty stuff, to be sure, but I am an easy-going soul (pretty much) and can even shrug off some things that others struggle with. But while the things that have hurt me deeply may have been few and far between, I have found it mighty hard to let go of them. I can chew over them, imagine all the things I might say to the person now, treating them with cool contempt or sarcasm.
    So, no, I don’t find forgiveness easy. (Who does?!) Also, I have also messed up badly at certain points of my life and have needed other people to forgive me. I would be devastated if any friend held me to ransom over the stupid, thoughtless things I’ve said and done in my life … so I cannot hold anyone to ransom either.

    As a young girl, I was often very passive and allowed myself to be dominated or manipulated. I have sometimes over-compensated for that earlier passivity by becoming overly aggressive in reaction to perceived manipulation. But that’s not the answer either. I have to tell myself: “If someone hurts you, and you know you need to confront them about it, don’t do so out of vengefulness. You can be assertive, in facing the issue head on, but don’t be unloving and unkind. Forgive them, as Christ forgives you.”

    Forgiveness is a process, as Jesus tells Peter in Matthew 18: 21-22. ‘“Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven.”’ His phrase “seventy times seven”, repeating Hebrew’s perfect number ad infinitum, illustrates his point: keep on forgiving if you have to, because it doesn’t come naturally.

    So next time I’m asked if I want to make a list of people I need to forgive … I will be thankful that my list isn’t large, and thankful for the grace of God that transforms us and enables us to keep forgiving.

    Philippa Linton’s day job is working for the education & learning department at the United Reformed Church in London. She is also a Reader (lay minister) in the Church of England. She likes J.R.R. Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, early 20th century feminism, and cats.

  • Forgiveness Fridays: The miracle of forgiveness by Jen Baker

    I keep being blown away by the stories in this forgiveness series. Today’s is miraculous – but Jen has done plenty of everyday forgiving too, as she outlines. I’m guessing that the timing for this blog might be special for someone today…

    I forgave by faith.

    Yet what happened next astounded even me….

    ***

    I believe the year was 1994 and I was 25 years old. Without going into unnecessary details, the back story was that a few years prior I had begun having flashbacks of being molested by a neighbour when I was a child. Afterwards he knelt next to my bed and quietly said in my ear, ‘If you tell anyone what happened I will kill you. I will follow you and I will kill you.’

    I believed him.

    So I kept quiet.

    Until that day, when the flashbacks opened up a door in my memory I didn’t even know existed.

    I could not keep silent any longer.

    Confused, scared (petrified) and ashamed, I began the journey of healing. I had a wonderful counsellor who journeyed with me each step of the way. But one day what I had been dreading happened and she broached the subject of forgiveness.

    I froze.

    I was a pastor; I knew it was the right thing to do, the biblical thing to do, but how could I forgive him? I was SIX when it happened. The anger I felt toward him bordered on rage and the disgust was palpable.

    But one drive home changed everything.

    Living about 45 minutes from the counsellor’s office gave me time to process our sessions before entering the ‘real world’ again. On one of these return journeys I was suddenly overcome by the thought that this man was not saved and was heading toward an eternity without God. I cannot describe what happened next except that I was overwhelmed with an urge to pray for his salvation, to the point of crying and pleading with heartfelt tears for God to save him and set him free.

    This cry from my heart came by the grace of God; it had nothing to do with me working up any forgiveness, only the obedience to follow the leading from God to pray. I suddenly felt ‘released’ from the burden and, from memory, that was the last time I prayed like that for him.

    For space I won’t go into further details, except to say after that day I began working through my anger and came to a place of complete forgiveness, actually feeling pity in place of rage.

    I never felt the urge to confront him during counselling but just over two years from that first moment when I chose forgiveness and prayer over bitterness and anger, I sensed Holy Spirit saying it was time.

    Due to circumstances out of my control, the moment came via a telephone call. I read him a letter I had written and at the end I explained how I had forgiven him because of the forgiveness I had received through Jesus Christ.

    After I finished speaking there was only deafening silence.

    Expecting the next sound to be the click of a line going dead, I wasn’t prepared for what actually happened…

    He very quietly squeaked out: “I’m so sorry. I am … so …. sorry.”

    Now I was the one rendered silent.

    He then uttered words which changed me forever.

    He explained that two years prior to this he was passing a church and had the sudden urge to drive in the driveway and speak to the pastor, asking him how to get right with God.

    He surrendered his life to Christ that day.

    He was a believer. He was … my brother in Christ.

    I’ll never be able to prove that the overwhelming urge I felt to pray for him and his salvation two years before was the same moment that he pulled in to the church car park, but to this day I believe it was.

    And twenty years later, the fact that we will share eternity together still brings tears of joy to my eyes.

    ***

    I am aware that not all stories end this way; in fact, very few of them have an ending like mine.

    But the truth is that I wasn’t freed when he apologised; I was freed when I forgave.

    I wasn’t freed when he apologised; I was freed when I forgave.

    And I could only have forgiven him completely by God’s redeeming grace. Grace which is freely available to all of us whenever we ask for it.

    ***

    Your story may be different.

    Since that time I have had to forgive some deeply painful choices made by others, and have needed forgiveness for my own wrong choices, and sadly not all have ended as ‘textbook’ as that one.

    2 Corinthians 12:9 says in part “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in my weakness.” Paul goes on to say he will boast in his weakness so that Christ’s power may rest on him.

    You see, the focus isn’t so much on our weakness as it is on Christ’s power and sufficient grace.

    In our inability, He is able. For our weakness, He gives strength.

    The key called grace is what opens the door to forgiveness.

    And it is through that door our tears are wiped dry and our freedom stands waiting.

    Even if it’s 25 years later.

    Jen Baker is a speaker, author and leader who loves seeing the Holy Spirit and the Word change atmospheres, creating personal and corporate impact. Most often described as ‘inspiring,’ she previously sold all in America to follow the call of God to England where she’s been a pastor, director and consultant working with the local church and several anti-trafficking charities. She has a heart for the nations … but a home in London.

    More information can be found at www.jenbaker.co.uk, including information on her books, Unlimited and Untangled. You can read her contribution to the “There’s No Place Like Home” series here.

  • Forgiveness Fridays: “The one person I don’t forgive” by Penelope Swithinbank

    We say we forgive. We ask God to help us forgive. We think we’d done it – phew, we’ve forgiven. But why the niggle? Why, actually, the unforgiveness that rears its ugly head? What are we holding onto?

    Oh, how I love this post from Penelope Swithinbank. Please, don’t miss it.

    I wish I could tell you that I have learnt how to forgive. That over these past few years there have been lessons learnt from each of the hard places. I thought I had forgiven – the Christians in the church who sent the vitriolic hate mail; the woman driver of an out-of-control car that, as I watched, ran over my mother and ended her life; the man who bullied my husband so much that it made him ill; the Conservation officer who even now is causing us so much stress and headache with our house.

    And all that is only the tip of the iceberg. It’s been a long tough ride for several years.

    I know I need to forgive. To forgive and go on forgiving. Isn’t that what Jesus said we were to do?

    A lack of forgiveness can be one of the main blockages in our lives – holding grudges, not letting go of our rights, allowing distances to grow between us and those who have offended us. It happens in churches, it happens in relationships, it happens in marriages. And it causes a distance not just between the individuals concerned but between us and God. Because if we do not forgive others, the Father does not forgive us. Matthew 6:14–15 says very clearly, “If you forgive those who sin against you, your heavenly Father will forgive you. But if you refuse to forgive others, your Father will not forgive your sins.” (NLT)

    But I have forgiven them, God, I argue with Him as I walk across the field, dodging the puddles and stomping through the mud. I do forgive!

    I saw that driver across the courtroom and I forgave her – she hadn’t planned to go out and run over someone that day, and her life is in ruins – so I asked the judge to grant her mercy. And the local planning officer – I sat in that meeting and prayed, prayed, prayed for blessings on her even though she seems so unreasonable.

    Isn’t all that proof of my forgiveness, Lord? So why are you allowing all this mess and hurt and pain in my life right now? Why are my prayers not being answered? After all we’ve done for You, God – nearly 40 years in Christian ministry with all its ups and downs and joys and sorrows; following your calling on our lives, giving up so much for the privilege and blessing of full-time Christian service; how could you let all this happen to us now?

    It rains and the sun comes out and there is a rainbow in front of me as I’m nearing home. It pierces me, the realization that it’s not all those people and situations that I have to forgive again.

    Yes, there is still unforgiveness in me. But it’s GOD I can’t forgive.

    I’m blaming Him for allowing all this suffering. For not answering my prayers the way I want him to. I can’t forgive him for the traumas and the deaths and the ongoing unpleasantness.

    And Matthew 6:15 runs through my mind again. Forgive. Literally, let go, or give up your right. The word translated as forgive is one that means: Yes, you may have complete justification in demanding recompense; yes you do have the right. But let it go; give it up. You are owed something – but let it go. Regard it as having been paid in full.

    And I hear Him say, “Come to me – I know you’re weary and tearstained and blaming me. But you have my undying love, always, all the time. I’ll take everything you’re carrying, all your brokenness and pain, all your sorrow and heartache. And in return, my Grace is pouring over you, in and through it all. You are my beloved daughter and I love you more than you can imagine. This all will pass but my love for you is for ever and ever.”

    Lord, I need your help to be a forgiving person. Help me see the great love and forgiveness you daily bless me with and from that may I love and forgive others – and you.

    Penelope is an Anglican priest who writes, blogs, mentors others (mostly through Spiritual Direction), contributes to Daily Bread Bible reading notes, and speaks on conferences and retreats. She has just retired from running a small retreat house and now is able to spend more time hiking, reading and daydreaming. With grandchildren on both sides of the Atlantic there is also quite a lot of travelling to be done. She can be found at  http://www.ministriesbydesign.org

     

  • Forgiveness Fridays: “Unless you forgive others…” by Jane Clamp

    Goodness me, what a story. When I first read Jane’s account of her rage and pain, I could relate. But what comes next you cannot miss…

    “But you know you have to forgive me, don’t you?”

    This from my husband, who’d left us only a matter of weeks before. We were standing just inside the French doors that opened onto what used to be “our” garden. I looked at him, my face impassive, my mind whirring.

    My theology is pretty sound on forgiveness, as it happens. I’ve done my time in Sunday School and have progressed through the ranks until I could consider myself fairly well-versed – if you’ll pardon the pun – in Scripture. I’ve got a degree in it, for goodness’ sake. I’ve also got a pretty active conscience and a genuine relationship with Jesus. I know what I’m supposed to do.

    The verse that always struck me so very particularly was the one where it says unless we forgive others, our Father in heaven won’t forgive us. Boy! Do I need forgiveness! Countless times a day when I’m careless with my words – for either saying too much or nothing at all; being un-steward-like with my time; having an attitude that smells like a mouldering compost heap instead of the fragrance of Christ. If I don’t get forgiven, I’m sunk.

    Most of the time it works quite well. If I get over myself and stop being so offended and over-sensitive then it’s fairly easy to forgive what people do against me. Most of the time we’re just tired, let’s face it. People don’t always mean stuff. Some things take me a bit longer to work through, admittedly; but I get there, I really do.

    But this. The man I’d been married to for twenty-one years, who had recently decided that his love affair with my best friend needed placing on a firmer footing, was telling me – not terribly nicely – that however badly he’d behaved, I had to forgive him.

    I gave him no answer, but he was right; and this was not really about him, although he was playing a fairly major role. I did have to forgive. I didn’t have the choice I would have liked. If I still want my Father in heaven to forgive me, then I have to forgive others. Even the big stuff like infidelity. I still loved him at that point and found that forgiving him was easier than I’d imagined. When it came to “her,” however, it was a whole other story.

    I hated her, I’m not going to lie! I had frequent day-dreams where I would have her pinned up against a wall, my free hand smashing her head against the brick-work. I imagined pummelling her with blows until she could barely crawl away. Forgive her, Lord? Really?

    Of course I had to, for all the reasons given above. Plus, I was determined not to become a bitter old divorcee and I knew that forgiveness was the antidote to that particular venom. After an awful long time, I got myself to the point where I told God that I did intend to forgive her. Not yet, but I would. That transmuted to saying “I forgive her” but without it touching my heart. It took something else to get me the whole way.

    I happened to help run an annual holiday for single-parent families. Oh, the irony of finding myself among their ranks! As the week approached, I knew I couldn’t tell any of these mums what I hadn’t been able to do myself. I had to do it, and it had to be now.

    How kind God is! I remember sitting on my bed thinking, “This is it.” I began as before, speaking out the words without engaging my heart. Then something shifted. I listened to the words coming from my mouth. It sounded like someone who meant it. My heart beat faster. The words intensified. By the time I was done, I’d forgiven her “freely, willingly and from the heart” (my exact phrase); and in the nick of time. A lady came to me for ministry. She was physically weak and mentally broken, unable to forgive her ex-husband. I shared with her about forgiveness, telling her my story. A year later we met again: her health restored, her mind free, her spirit joyful – just like mine.

    Jane Clamp is Creative Writer in Residence on the Sunday Breakfast Show of BBC Radio Norfolk and on the Thought of the Day team at Premier Radio. She writes a monthly blog for the Association of Christian Writers and preaches regularly at her church. In her free time, she is an Interior Designer and plays saxophone in function band, The Ideals.

  • Forgiveness Fridays: Seventy Times Seven by Mel Menzies

    Forgiveness – how many times do we need to forgive? Mel Menzies poses this question with authenticity, for she has had to forgive over and over again, as you’ll read in her deep and searching post. I think you’ll be encouraged by her example.

    You only have to forgive once.

    That’s the repeated phrase that leapt out at me in the film version of The Light Between Oceans by M.L. Stedman.

    Is that true? Jesus spoke of the necessity of forgiving seventy times seven, a number that showed the complete and never-ending quality of God’s forgiveness of us. So how does this pan out in real life?

    Forever Forgiveness

    My first marriage, begun in less than ideal circumstances with a baby on the way, is a case in point. To put it bluntly, my husband felt trapped. Having told my child’s father that I’d rather go it alone than have a termination, I felt I was subsequently presented with the choice as to whether our baby daughter was to live or not when she developed encephalitis. I begged God’s forgiveness for my wrong-doing and, pleading with him for her life, I promised to follow him faithfully.

    My first book, written to comfort others with the comfort I received from God, tells the story of The Tug of Two Loves as the differences between my husband and I escalated now that I was a disciple. I’d already had to visit an STD clinic when he admitted to a one-night stand, and I now encountered a repeating cycle of infidelities. Another woman’s nightwear appeared beneath the pillow on my bed after I went to visit my parents, and female underwear appeared among the washing in my husband’s suitcase when he went away on business trips.

    Unable to bring an end to our unhappy marriage himself, he would goad me to do so. ‘Well, if you don’t like it, you know what you can do!’ But the fact was that I couldn’t; I loved him, and I saw in him what I recognised in myself. He was the least favoured son, second to an academic older brother, just as I was a misfit in my family. Besides, how could I condemn him when I knew myself to be less than perfect?

    For fifteen years I went on forgiving him, until – one Christmas morning, having destroyed his best friend’s marriage – he brought ours to an end. But that wasn’t the finish. His best friend died in what was assumed to have been a suicide, and our second daughter began a heroin addiction. For a further thirteen years, although both remarried, her father and I remained in touch, forced by our daughter’s circumstances to collaborate. (Her story, A Painful Post Mortem, is available as an e-book.)

    He was already a heavy drinker, and increased alcohol consumption took its toll on his health until, with his death imminent, he begged me to attend his funeral. Visiting him in hospital, I sat and held his hand, praying that he might know not only my forgiveness, but would seek God’s, too. A few days later, at his wish, our first-born, now a Vicar, took his funeral, which I attended.

    The pain of this experience brought home to me in some small measure, as nothing else could, the hurt God must feel when we wrong him. To this day, I am unable to stem the tears when I take communion and remember what Jesus has done for me.

    Even in the black barren lava fields of Lanzarote, vineyards can take root and flourish.

    Shaking the Dust from Your Feet

    Other experiences have taught me, however, that there are times when forgiveness does not equate to reconciliation. When an agreement made between my parents, my youngest sister and her husband ripped our family apart, I applied the same principles of forgiveness. Verbal or written admissions of clemency, however, can have a negative effect. In forgiving someone, openly, we are stating that they are in the wrong. And if they don’t, or won’t, acknowledge any wrong-doing, the discord in relationships may go from bad to worse.

    Enduring fourteen years of vitriol from my father in which my every attempt at reconciliation failed, I reached a point of peace when my dad lay dying in his bed. Sitting, holding his hand, I sang his favourite hymn, Dear Lord and Father of mankind, and, on my return home, learned that he had passed away ten minutes later. It was, I felt, as if he thought he had been given permission to let go.

    Sadly, the same cannot be said about my youngest sister and brother-in-law, but I live in hope. Recognising the depressive and suicidal effect that the venom directed against me has had on my senses, I spoke with Revd David Coffey OBE, my one-time minister and friend, and understand that I can achieve nothing by staying in touch with my accusers. Into God’s hands I commit my forgiveness and prayers, in the sure and certain belief that in him all things are possible.

    Merrilyn was first published in the 1980s, with commissions from Lion and Hodder & Stoughton, one of which became a Sunday Times No. 4 Bestseller. Her God-given directive is to comfort others with the comfort she has received in times of sorrow, and to this end she is available for speaking events. In the belief that God has now told her to ‘entertain your readers so they will absorb truths they might otherwise resist’, she now writes fiction under her maiden name, Mel Menzies. Her Evie Adams series – mysteries with a message – are set in Devon and have a counsellor, rather than a detective, to solve the mystery. Time to Shine went briefly to No. 1 in its category on Amazon and, as well as Chosen?, has received a number of reviews. www.melmenzies.co.uk ALL PROFITS & ROYALTIES ARE FOR TEARFUND TO SUPPORT SYRIAN CHILDREN.

  • Forgiveness Fridays: The challenge of forgiveness by Amy Robinson

    Godspell, a villanelle, and forgiveness – I love the richness and variety of my guest writers. I hope you’re as intrigued as I was to read Amy Robinson’s post!

    Have you ever seen the 1973 film version of Godspell – the one starring Victor Garber? It’s well worth a watch if you haven’t. The script uses sections of Matthew’s Gospel to frame a story in which Jesus and the disciples are a sort of Vaudeville acting troupe performing parables around New York. It surprises me every time I watch it, because from somewhere among the facepaints, rainbow clothing and rocking music, the sheer unexpected force of the words of Jesus leaps out and hit me sideways.

    Photo courtesy of Everett Collection.

    There’s a scene early on in the film when the new, excited troupe are acting the parable of the unforgiving servant. The master forgives his servant a huge debt, but the servant then goes on to refuse to forgive a much smaller debt, so the master orders him to be captured. The troupe performs the arrest and then, with great relish, they pretend to torture the servant. In the middle of their fun, Jesus says casually over his shoulder, “And so will my heavenly father repay you, if you do not forgive…” and they all look up at him aghast, the wind taken right out of their sails.

    This challenge of forgiveness at the heart of Christianity is summed up in the two lines of the Lord’s Prayer: “Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us”. In the comma between those two lines is hidden a huge effort of will and grace as we make the leap between accepting forgiveness for ourselves and offering it to others.

    The following poem is a villanelle, which is a strict form that takes two repeating, rhyming lines through the poem, only bringing them together as a couplet at the end. It seemed right for a meditation on these two lines from the Lord’s prayer, which are together in one breath and yet sometimes so far apart in my ability to pray and mean them.

    Forgive me, Lord, my sins, and make me free.
    But next, the hardest line of all to say:
    “As I forgive the ones who once hurt me”.

    My lips repeat the words reluctantly:
    my heart rebels and struggles to obey.
    Forgive me, Lord, my sins, and make me free,

    and help me in your constant light to see
    my foes, my friends, and all my yesterday
    as I forgive the ones who once hurt me,

    because their debt and mine, one endless fee,
    was what you gave your perfect life to pay.
    Forgive me, Lord, my sins, and make me free,

    and by your grace and love hand me the key
    that opens up this dungeon to the day
    as I forgive the ones who once hurt me.

    Oh Lord, who spoke those words upon the tree,
    who while still hurting prayed, teach me to pray:
    Forgive me, Lord, my sins; and make me free,
    as I forgive, the ones who once hurt me.

    Amy Robinson is a writer, performance storyteller and ventriloquist, and benefice children’s worker for four Suffolk church communities. She has published three books with Kevin Mayhew, writes scripts and resources for www.GenR8.org and blogs a bit at www.amystoryteller.com. She lives in a rectory with the rector, two children and lots of puppets. You can find her on Twitter at @Ameandme and at Facebook. Read her contribution to the “There’s No Place Like Home” series here.

  • Forgiveness Fridays: Reconciliation before promotion by Russ Parker

    Forgiveness is healing – that’s the title of a wonderful book by Russ Parker, which has been a primary go-to book on the subject for decades. For forgiveness does bring healing, as we see in this inspiring and heartwarming story that Russ shares. Think of how many lives would be different if siblings – and friends and acquaintances – embraced like these two did. (Russ tells the story in his book, but recounts it here in a fuller form.)

    I was just about to introduce our very first healing service in our church when it happened. It was the Saturday night before Easter and a group from a number of churches in town had come to pray and find the healing they were looking for. I was about to announce the opening hymn when my Verger, Roy, interrupted me and said that he did not think that this was a properly constituted service for an Anglican church. I explained that it was an ecumenical service and the Bishop was OK about it. He was quiet for a moment and then said, “I really don’t know why I have come to this service tonight.” His remarks saddened me and caused a minor irritation amongst the rest of the congregation. However, that was when God’s grace stepped in.

    Roy’s wife, Eva, dug him in his ribs with her elbow as if to say, “Go on spit it out!” And that is what he proceeded to do. He almost erupted when he declared that try as he might he just did not like his younger brother. Years earlier his mother had died and his father remarried. It was from this second marriage that his brother Frank had been born. “All my daddy’s love went to my brother and I felt pushed out,” Roy said. “I hated him. The only good thing about him is that he lives far away in South Africa. Mind you he comes home now and then and I go through this game of pretending to be nice to him but really I can’t stand being near him.”

    At this point some late arrivals came in at the back of the church. One them, hearing Roy speak, suddenly jumped to his feet and called out, “Roy!” It turned out to be Roy’s brother Frank. Roy was startled to hear his brother’s voice call out to him and he turned around to face him and said, “O God, I’ve been telling everyone I hated you.”

    “I know that,” said Frank.

    “You do!” replied Roy.

    “Why do you think I went to live in South Africa? I decided to get right out of the way so you could have all of our dad’s love.”

    “Well, it didn’t work,” said Roy. “Dad didn’t really pay any attention to me.”

    Photo: Paul Sableman, flickr

    In an attempt to move out of his obvious embarrassment Roy asked Frank, “Why have you come home now? We weren’t expecting you.”

    “Well,” said Frank, “I was offered promotion at the school I work at near Cape Town. I was invited to become the Principal of the new school. I was sitting at my desk writing my letter of acceptance when I thought to myself, ‘I wonder what the verse on my Bible calendar has to say about today?’ As I was a few days behind I ripped away to the day’s date and the reading set for that day was, ‘If you are presenting your gift at the altar and you know that your brother has something against you, then leave your gift at the altar. First go and be reconciled with your brother.’ (Matthew 5v23+24)

    “I asked the school authorities if they would give me a few weeks before I replied as I had something I needed to do. They refused and said they wanted an answer very soon. So I said no, I needed to go home and see my brother first and that is why I am here tonight Roy.”

    There was a stunned silence in the church as we all waited to see how Roy would respond to this fact. His brother had gone thousands of miles to get out of the way of Roy being loved by his dad and now he had given up a job promotion and travelled those same thousands of miles to be reconciled to his brother.

    Suddenly Roy dashed up the aisle of the church and Frank climbed out of his pew and the two brothers raced into one of the most passionate and heartfelt hugs I have ever seen. They wept as they embraced and the healing each was receiving was visible on their faces.

    I turned to the congregation and said, “This seems a good moment to invite anyone else who needs healing to come forward for prayer with the laying on of hands. So if that is you, then come.” Every single person in church that night came out to engage with the Christ whose healing reaches out to touch us at our point of need.

    Frank never did go back to South Africa but lived in that town for some years and Roy was transformed from a rather distant and reserved man into a warm and passionate servant of his Lord.


    Russ Parker     has written a number of books which include Healing Dreams, Healing Death’s Wounds, Free to Fail and Healing Wounded History. He travels extensively around the UK and abroad, lecturing and teaching in issues connected with Christian healing and healthcare, reconciliation and church transformation.

    Russ has been a church leader in a number of different settings and is also a co-founder of the Community of Aidan and Hilda whose mother house is situated on the holy island of Lindisfarne. He is married to Roz and lives near Farnham, Surrey, and supports Liverpool Football Club, whether they are winning or losing!

    Amy’s book The Living Cross explores forgiveness through a series of daily Bible readings for Lent. You can find out more about it, and how to purchase, here.