Seventy times seven

It is not my friend, but our friendship, that I believe is dead.

In response, I cry my way through 10 states, processing all the emotions of grief. I alternate between anger — I am rarely sure, at any given moment, which of us I am angry at — and abject sorrow. After 7 states I believe I have come to acceptance; in the next, morbid curiosity drives me to do the web search that cuts me open again.

In the 9th state, I hear the still small voice that tells me I have to forgive, but I am too busy talking to listen well. I hear it, but I process it with logic rather than obedience: I need to forgive, because unforgiveness will only hurt me.

It is on the plane, when I have always been better at listening, that I respond to the command. Because it is a command, whatever else I’d like to think. Spoiled brat that I am, I try to argue the point.

How can I forgive him, Lord? (OK, yes, I already know that You are the “how.”) But Lord, he hurts me. He hurts me over and over. How many times? How many times do I have to keep forgiving him…

(“Seventy times seven times.”)

Oh, yes. But Lord, he doesn’t value – and never has valued – me, my feelings, our friendship – any of it, as he should… He never will.

(” Forgive, as you have been forgiven.”)

Oh. Right. Of course – how often do I value You as highly I should? And yet You always forgive me, over and over. I’m sorry.

I will forgive, by Your grace, and in obedience to Your command, by faith.

I will try to remember that he doesn’t really know how to be friends with me. I will try to remember that what really draws him to me is Your Spirit in me. He just doesn’t know the difference.

Help me to remember the difference.

It takes so little for me to forget.


~ by lorakceel on February 15, 2012.

One Response to “Seventy times seven”

  1. […] significance must surely exclude me, and so when I can breathe again, can move again, I flee from the feeling. I turn sharply across […]

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