Forgiveness and Community

How many times have you heard someone say “forgivenes is not for the other person, its for you”? People are often encouraged to forgive with the view that in doing so, they obtain some semblence of peace or release. This all sounds very noble and for sure, there is some truth to that notion. But what if I told you there was another side to forgiveness, one that is not so often spoken about, perhaps because, well, it offers nothing to the person doing the forgiving and instead is a benefit to the one being forgiven.

I was thinking about forgiveness the other day because there was someone I needed to forgive, and it occured to me that I had missed out on an important truth regarding forgiveness. One of the tenents of Christianity is the notion of a forgiving God; a God who is magnanimous, generous, and loving and I suddenly thought, what benefit does God receive in offering forgiveness to us? How is God’s life made better, his conscience clearer because he is forgiving? The more I pondered on those questions, the clearer it became to me that in fact, God’s forgiveness was to our benefit rather than God’s, and if we are called to forgive as God forgave, what does that mean for us?

In that moment, it dawned on me that there was something about forgiveness that screamed inclusion, belonging, welcome, and community: in offering us forgiveness, God invites us to be in communion with himself, to identify with him, to be included in his divinity. Forgiveness, therefore, becomes about restoring back to fellowship and community; it is an act of generosity in the face of hurt, anger, or grief. I’m not lying when I say I felt challenged by this: as I thought about the person I needed to forgive I wondered how my failure to forgive had unintentionally ‘disfellowshiped’ them from being in community with me, or caused them to feel ostracized to some degree.

Yes, forgiveness has some benefit to us, (we feel better, for example) but if we simply focus on that, it becomes a selfish act rather than one of generosity. Here’s the difficulty in seeing forgiveness as an act of generosity: it raises question about perpetrators of what we might consider heinous acts: if forgiveness is about inclusion and community, what does that mean for the person who was raped, or whose loved one was murdered? Dare we include peodophiles, sex traffickers, and such like? How do we extend generosity in such situations? To be honest, I do not know, and that is why I do not believe we should encourage other people to offer forgiveness, because generosity cannot be coerced – we need to allow people to come to that place for themselves. It is up to them to choose to offer the opportunity for belonging or inclusion.

Is it any wonder that we struggle to forgive if we are constantly told forgiveness is for us? Does my pain go away once I’ve forgiven? Do I no longer bear the scars of the act done to me when I forgive? No and no, because forgiveness is not intended to rid me of my pain, anger, or grief, but to bring back into fellowship those who have wronged me. For this reason, I consider forgiveness to be the highest form of generosity we can extend, because in forgiving I am choosing to to offer my hand in fellowship to the person who has done me wrong, not because it is beneficial to me, but because I recognsie that unforgiveness means that we are no longer living in community with each other.

So, the next time you feel inclined to say to someone, ‘forgiveness is for you’ perhaps think about what it is you are asking of them, and if you have opportunity to offer forgiveness, consider what ‘being in community’ with that person might look like. I would say also, don’t feel guilty about any inability to forgive that you may experience: it may be that you are not ready or are unable to offer forgiveness and that’s okay. Take your time and count the cost, so that your offer of forgiveness may truly be the greatest act of generosity you have proferred to another.

 

Stripped Bare

(I wrote this late last night as I was thinking of some stuff that life has recently brought my way. Hope it speaks to someone)

Breaking the Silence:Sexual Abuse in the Home

I have been following the recent events surrounding the Dugger family with interest; firstly because they are a Christian family, and secondly, because of my own experience  as a child. Sexual abuse is a topic which families tend not to discuss: it is the ‘elephant in the room’ particularly in Caribbean households (I speak from that context). I remember being a Sunday School teacher to a little girl who I later discovered had been sexually abused by a family friend. The family’s response was to accept $200 EC from the man as a sort of show of remorse. I remember feeling so infuriated by the whole thing, and frankly, sick to the stomach. I felt powerless in the situation: how could I stand up for this little girl in a society where sexuality is often discussed with females as being loose or immoral, irregardless of age or circumstance. The common immediate reaction to any sexual misconduct was always to question the female’s responsibility in the act. Stories were told of young girls being kicked out of their homes, or made to feel responsible because some grown man had messed with them: “you must have done something”; “what were you wearing”.  So imagine being a young girl or boy, abused in that context.

The case of the Duggers is not that dissimilar: a context in which men are seen as authority figures; in which women are responsible for the sexual behaviour of men in  terms of dress; authority. The family claim to stand on Christian principles on all things from child-rearing to sexual behaviour, so it is no wonder that the media are seemingly up in arms about the revelations pertaining to child molestation. In a recent interview, the sisters/victims have spoken out, but not in the way you might expect. You see, they say they have forgiven their brother for what he did: that he was a confused pubescent boy. Fair enough. A friend of mine recently commented that we should not condemn JD, that he was a curious 14 year old, and that we were all curious at some point in our lives. And I agree. But that is also what troubles me about this whole thing: that the effect on the sisters is almost being downplayed: they have forgiven him and now we can all move on. I too have forgiven someone. I too have moved on. Wait, have I?

For a long time now I have been thinking about sharing my experience but I admit I have been worried about how doing so would affect my family. So I totally get what the D family must be going through. I too, had a ‘curious’ brother. I was about 11 when his ‘curiousity’ was expressed. I remember feeling confused, frightened. What was happening? Did I do something wrong? What if my mom finds out? Will she blame me? The D sisters claim not to have any recollection of what happened being wrong or unusual. Why is the family not seeing that as a typical response by abuse victims? They were younger than I was. Why is no one in the family asking/wondering about other young family members/friends who might have been around at the time? Doesn’t ‘curiousity’ among  children tend to happen between similar age groups? Why is no one seeing this as a potentially deeper issue? No. The girls have forgiven their brother and all is well. Well I have some news for the family: all is not well, and the girls will not just move on.

Forgiveness as a Christian construct is a wondeful thing: we celebrate it in our church services; enthrall it in our teachings; see Jesus as the great example, and so on. But what is forgiveness? Does forgiveness mean an eradication of consequences? Years ago, I was struggling deeply with the effect my abuse (let’s call it what it is) was having on me. Like the D sisters I was getting on with life, not even thinking about what had happened so many years before. In fact, I am sure I created a scenario in my head where my abuser was a victim who probably couldn’t help himself, as he too was a young boy – he was family, and I loved him. Then in my late teens  something happened – all the memories I had stored away so carefully came spilling out. As a  Christian, I wanted to do the right thing – so I sought the wisdom of godly women, laid my soul bare to them. Cried buckets, felt the raw pain. After all of that I felt that it was important to forgive, because, after all, isn’t that what Jesus would have wanted? But what would this forgiveness mean, and what would it look like? Should I confront this boy now a man and say “I forgive you”? I wanted to. Badly. I wanted him to know the emotional mental pain he had caused me. In the end, I decided not to, but to let my actions speak; I felt that confronting him might prove  counter-productive rather than helpful. So I understand the D family wanting to protect their son. But my concern is for the girls. Because, you see, forgiveness alone is not enough.

What blasphemy is this, I hear you ask? Today, I have moved on from what happened to me. I no longer harbour resentment toward my brother. I have forgiven him. But all of that is not enough to take away the sting of what happened. That remains. So while the sisters may be feeling that everything is fine, I would encourage them and the family to look after them because some emotional scars are harder to get rid of. And if they have found the secret to a life free from the effects of sexual abuse, I and all other victims would like to know what that is. Because it creeps up on you when you least expect it  when your life is seemingly going well. Does that mean a lack of forgiveness? No it does not, which is why I say forgiveness is not enough. But I am okay and I continue to heal: it is a lifelong process. I love my brother and I have forviven him. But would I let my daughter stay with him? Hell no. So by all means, forgive, but let us not forget that every action has a consequence and some behaviours are symtomatic of deeper issues.