When I was a child, being raised in a Dutch-Canadian home, I was well learned on Corrie ten Boom.
One of her stories laid dormant in me until just a few weeks ago.
Corrie Ten Boom was famous for writing of a time when her and her family were in concentration camps as a result of hiding Jews in their home during the holocaust. Afterwards, she wrote of a soldier that was well known for his cruelty. The details of this man, and his relationship specifically to her, I don’t remember exactly, however, the childhood impact of learning that she was standing there on a pulpit talking of forgiveness, when walking up the isle to meet her, was one of the most sadistic men in the camp, raising his hand to hold hers in forgiveness. I can only imagine the feelings that would have been coursing through her as she held his hand and tested her own preachings of forgiveness; only something supernatural can attest to her ability to forgive.
The horror of forgiveness has hibernated in me since.
How can you ever, ever forgive a bad person? When so commonly, I can’t even forgive the snotty little teenager the neighbor struggles to control and stomps my flowers, let alone someone who’s been at the very least, reckless with my heart?
Through complete submission of all feelings to Dear God. It’s the only explanation that I can think of that makes sense. And it’s not a process that comes easily – I haven’t been in a holocaust, but I have had a man treat me worse than he did his dealer. He tilted the rules of relationship to fit his gross agenda and lied extravagantly until at one point it nearly cost me my life. Forgive him? Worse, forgive me for participating in the relationship with him? I thought it was impossible.
That keyhole and the camel story has some merit to it, because until you can truly allow your heart to break, you can never truly mend and it’s a [expletive adjective] tight emotional hole to go through. But when you get to the other side, there’s a whole kingdom in there.
That keyhole is the horror of forgiveness; the willingness to be so broken by the pain that you’re willing to be healed by something that can only be supernatural.
I accidentally forgave my ex-husband. I also forgave myself.
The healing is supernatural.