and so, i forgive.

My heart beats wildly. I choke back a sob. I bite back angry words that rise to my lips. I just want to get away--get away from this suffocation, this madness; get away somewhere quiet where I can be alone with my sadness. It is something so small, and yet it has pricked me like a poisoned sword and unleashed my anger. 


I feel hot passion coursing through my veins, and I remember what it is—who it is—who has angered me. I cringe at the thought of their face, I imagine their voice, high and mocking, and it surrounds me. The noise of the house only makes it worse—oh, where is somewhere quiet? Why can’t they let me be? Why do I hate them so? I rush to my closet and pull the door shut, breathing heavily. Alone at last, yet—still that hateful face appears in my mind’s eye, the mouth scorning and smug. I despise it, how it has hurt me. And I whisper that I do.

Yet slowly, the rage melts away, as cool silence envelopes me. I lift my tear stained face from my lap and hear a still, small voice. “My daughter,” it says, so tenderly, so patiently. “My daughter, forgive as I have forgiven you.” The voice is silent, mild, yet it is slowly drowning out the mocking voice that still echoes within me. “Have not you seen my cross?”

I sit for a moment—or perhaps an hour, perhaps a year. Can I forgive? Can I forget? Not alone—oh, never alone. But slowly, without uttering a word, I give it up. I feel His strength within me, able to give me all that I need to let it go. And oh! My hurt is gone, the echo fades; He leads my hate gently away and gives me the peace of forgiveness.

Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. 

(Colossians 3:13)