April 16, 2023
A friend asked me about forgiveness. I decided I
would explain how I became a better man by putting my life in God's hands.
Learning to forgive was a crucial factor on my journey.
Kairos Prison Ministry has offered a three-day
Christian renewal to prisoners for over forty years. Some call it a short
course in Christianity. About forty "free men" come into the prison
and put on a program for forty or so prisoners, a series of talks on several
fundamental principles.
Unconditional love. Some of the volunteers are
priests, preachers, ministers from various church denominations, while most are
goodhearted men who want to share the word of God with deprived prisoners who
might never otherwise be exposed to it.
I'm not going to summarize the entire program —
I'm sure Mr. Google is better equipped to fulfill that role. Their headquarters
are somewhere around Winter Park.
There is a lot of spiritual healing during the
weekend, especially involving forgiveness. Many prisoners are crippled by
guilt, anger, resentment, hatred toward those who hurt them, betrayed them,
testified against them, and abandoned them, any of a dozen transgressions that are
burdens that weigh them down. The Friday sessions and Saturday sessions build
up to a talk by one of the free men who shares his personal experiences with
forgiveness.
There are numerous examples. One that affected me
was the comparison that one's bitter hatred is like a fiery hot coal grasped
tightly in one's hand. The harder you squeeze it, the more it burns you. The
other person is not damaged — you are. The most logical action is to open your
hand and fling that hot coal as far as you can throw it. How do you do that?
When I went through Kairos #9 at Union C..I. in
May, 1982, they did the exercise differently than they do now, but no matter.
It's the personal internal process that matters. "I forgive you."
They pass out a bunch of slips of paper, and tell you, "Write down the
names of every person who has wronged you, that you hate, hold a grudge for,
that harmed you, and forgive them. "I forgive you"— and mean it. Let
them go.
They used to pass around a gallon metal can and
tell you to put in the slips of paper. When they collected all the names, they
would light the paper. The names went straight up in smoke, straight to God,
who forgave each and every one of us.
If God can forgive us our major sins, can we not
forgive others? Be Christ-like?
I had a lot of names on my list. Perhaps that's
why they don't set the papers on fire any more. When I was doing it, I was
skeptical, thought it was just another exercise. But when I tossed in those
slips and saw them go up in smoke, I felt something. A weight I didn't know I
carried lifted off me. I felt clean. I had been holding tightly to that burning
hot coal, squeezing it tightly, never even realizing it.
It wasn't over. That slate was clean, but life
goes on. I've had numerous opportunities to forgive others who've wronged me.
Remind me to tell you about my "friend," Otis, and what he did to
earn my forgiveness. Bottom line — forgiveness heals the one who forgives.
You can't go through life pushing around a
wheelbarrow full of anger and frustration. Let it go.
I screw up all the time. And I'm not afraid to put
myself out there and ask, "God, please forgive me." If God can
forgive me, it's only fair that I forgive those who have offended me, in turn.
There's much more to say on this subject, but it
has been a long day, and I am tired.
Do you want to see how it works? Think of your
worst enemy, the person who has hurt you the most. Picture that person in your
mind. Sincerely say, "I forgive you," and mean it.
And God will continue to forgive you.
Charlie
