The Sylvr Pen

Wounds leave scars. And just looking at the scars can bring back the pain that caused them. Unexpected triggers can blindside us with an intense reliving of it.

I’d like to forget and always keep my gaze averted from my scars. But should I?

God says forgive, release to Him the “enemy” who wounded you. But forget?

Making ourselves “forget” may not be biblical or healthy at all.

Didn’t some “re-griefs” recently blindside me just because I’d put the hurts, the bone-deep scars, in forget mode? In other words, buried? Burying past hurts may be something we should be careful not to do.

Not that we dwell on negatives, or harbor grudges, or cast ourselves perpetually in the victim role, keep picking at scabs. Or keep rehashing someone else’s wrong to slander them or act as high judge or feel superior or refuse to forgive. None of that is biblical.

But I looked up “forget” in an exhaustive concordance. And nowhere did I find any Bible command or instruction to forget a hurt or offense!

The closest thing that could be (mis?)construed that way is Paul’s saying, “Forgetting what is behind…” (Phil 3:13). But there he’s talking about leaving his entire old life of legalism, hatred, and misguided zeal behind and moving forward in truth and light, ever closer to Christ. He’s aware of all he lost, but gladly trades it in for the surpassing greatness of knowing His Savior (Phil 3:4-8).

Elsewhere he pours out a long string of sufferings he endured (2 Cr 11:23-28,32-33). He hasn’t forgotten them. He remembers, and prays for his blind, misguided human enemies, desiring passionately that they would come to see the light God has revealed to him (Rom 10:1-3 NIV).

Then there’s Joseph, the Bible’s great human example of forgiveness. He didn’t forget, or pretend the wrongs done him never occurred. Effectively he made those brothers remember, themselves. And sweat. Scared them. Gave them stark awareness of how bad the just consequences of their evil actions could be. Then he granted them formal forgiveness, and reassurance.

I look up “remember” in the concordance, too, because maybe there are “do not remember” instructions?

I find none.

And though I haven’t thoroughly gone through all the references yet, so far what I find is a lot of commandments to remember!

Remember your affliction and slavery in Egypt.

Remember how you were mistreated, and remember God’s deliverance.

Remember all God’s marvelous works, and all he did for you in the past.

Remember your past errors and how wrong or foolish they were, so as not to commit them again.

Nothing has turned up (yet) that says to not-remember.

So it looks like we are to forgive without forgetting—that we should both remember and forgive.

Maybe “forgiving” without remembering isn’t really forgiveness, but avoidance, avoiding dealing with the painful issues, burying them instead? Pretending they never happened?

We can’t deal with what we don’t look at. We can’t forgive what we don’t acknowledge actually happened. And without looking, acknowledging, and then forgiving, how can we obey “Love your enemies…”?

Yes. Remember and forgive.

And more about loving our enemies, next time…

*****

It happens again: Another “coincidence.” God’s timing.

Sunday morning. An echo from the pulpit gives me exactly what I need…

In early morning solitude, I read Philippians. The whole thing. Again.

I read it because I need it. Stuck with nothing but the book of Job for weeks, in my January Bible reading schedule… too much negative! I need balance! — and some sunnier perspective on the little revisits the past has paid me this week, dressed in  midwinter blues.

Somewhere I’d heard the claim that just reading through Philippians for 100 consecutive days would alone memorize it. So I’d been giving it a (skeptical) try, now rereading this joy book for about the fifth time.

But this time, I slow in chapter four, to linger amid verses 4-9. I’d hang around longer in the passage, but I must shower, get ready for church…

…

Later, at church: The pastor opens his Bible, directs our attention to…

Philippians 4:6-9!

He’s talking about scars from the past, and peace of mind.

I already know the prayer steps of Philippians 4:6-7 as a formula for inner peace —  including, of course, thanksgiving.

I even have a mug to remind me of it.

And in my earlier reading, back home, I also was noting each item in verse 8’s mind-focus list and its position in it.

But before church, I got no further. No time for studying verse 9’s instructions, and promise.

Now the pastor homes right in on it, then backtracks over verse 8, part by part!

He pinpoints three factors involved in overcoming emotional scars:

1- Attitude: Which side of a painful circumstance do I choose to focus on, hang out with, positive or negative?

How about choosing what’s…

true,

noble (or excellent, or commendable),

just,

pure,

lovely,

good news,

of any virtue,

praiseworthy?

2- Time: The word “practice” in verse 9 ESV indicates the ongoing building of the “memory muscle” of right thinking. I’d like instant results, but only over time can I develop and strengthen it, by years of building, and practicing.

3- The size of our God, as I see Him. How big is He in relation to my difficulty? 

The bottom line I take home, swallow down, and digest:

We get hurt. Bad hurt. And scarred. And the scarred places may even render us crippled. And things or faces from the past can breeze into view like bad weather and suddenly bring back the pain to that damaged place. But…

“Scars are reminders of the past, not our tour guides to the future.” Like a scar the pastor’s son bears, left by a chain saw accident, they warn us to be careful (with chain saws, or whatever inflicted the pain), but not to decide never to pick up a chain saw, or ___(fill in the blank)______ again.

Exactly what I need.

I have something to put in that blank. Maybe more than one something.

How about you? What would you write in that blank?

And have you ever experienced a spoken or written message that meshed remarkably with your own secret situation or Bible pondering? How was “the God of peace” in this coincidence?

…

More about scars tomorrow.

Meanwhile, thanking God today, for

~Sermons that echo and expand what God was already saying to me in His word

~Wise perspective on life events, and circumstances, and people

~Timely phone call from the one and only friend with whom I could communicate well on a particular scarring event, because she got scarred the same way at the same time. (Yet another “God-incidence.”)

~The great big mightiness of God that has carried me amazingly through searing circumstances, Whom I can trust to take me though any my future holds.

~The scars. Their warning, and reminder of God’s comfort and strength.

~The “bad” events that left them, how they broadened my education, strengthened my faith, increased truth, grace, closeness to God in my life.

~Time and quiet to contemplate and process.

What an amazing God we serve!

*****

A tiny bead of pearly pink. Another. And another. On tips of green.

Buds

Ready for a re-bloom.

Christmas cactus again in February?

Yes.

Well, I fed them.

That’s what I want. A late bloom, a re-bloom.

Need to feed.

“Those who are planted in the house of the LORD Shall flourish in the courts of our God. They shall still bear fruit in old age; They shall be fresh and flourishing.”                 -Psalm 92:13-14

*****

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What is real, anyway?

This house in which I sit is real. That’s certain — for the moment. Yet before the day is done, a fire or wind or explosion could wipe it all away. Though a concrete reality now, then it would become but a memory, a shadow in the mind.

I had a friend so healthy that I (never robust) envied her. Yet within her lay a hidden cancer that grew undetected till too late to prevent her death a few short months later.

Friends prove disloyal, false, even treacherous. Were they ever real?

People who seem so kind prove cruel and hard in heart.

Admired leaders prove wily, conniving, dishonest, self-serving.

Marriages and friendships and families and churches collapse, and you wonder if they ever were what they purported to be…

Some question the reality of God and things eternal. I take the stance of C. S. Lewis, who in the Narnia tales referred to this present life and all in it as only shadows of the real and eternal — Aslan’s kingdom in the children’s books, God’s Kingdom in Reality.

“I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name,” declares the song.

Leaning, here and now in the Shadowlands, on what’s real.

*****

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Sunday evening, I watch.

A dumb movie reruns huge chunks of my life, different phases, all fouled up and foolish…

“Does this bother you?” my fellow watcher asks.

“No,” I scoff, “because [the movie] it’s just so stupid.”

But Monday morning hangs heavy, a cloud pushes my body hard into floorboards, as my feet plod through the morning motions.

I go to prayer. But instead of the usual psalms, prayers, and songs, I burst into weeping, and honesty breaks free.

It does bother me. A lot. My life, so much wasted, so little left. So many mistakes — bad decisions, errors in judgment, even when I was trying to do it all right and godly…

No writing-as-usual. The keyboard holds itself in defiance. Words inside are confusion.

But write I do, in my journal.

And I read. I read my Bible, listening for God. And blog posts of others, listening for insights. And my own journal page:

“Movie last night flashed back my life… and this morning Psalm 90 comes up, reminding me my earth-time’s a fleeting vapor…

“I’ve set myself to use it better… but I haven’t anything significant to do, just keep home and laundry in decent order, meet husband’s small domestic needs, and give and pray and encourage others… a mere drop, certainly nothing setting the world afire. I feel like a washout… at a dead end…

“But I can thank God…”

And there follows a grace list, and it grows long and deep: God’s giving through all the “fouled up and foolish,” till I sit awed at the intervening mercies.

Then I make a short list, things I did right — by God’s grace! — both “back then” and recently, and it comes clear that the Accuser bad-talks at us the way I’d been doing to myself. (Conviction from God’s Holy Spirit corrects; Accuser condemnation aims only to defeat.) So, whose spokesperson had I been? 

Then God speaks from His word:

From Colossians 1, these words leap out: “the hope laid up for you in heaven.” They wash over me like soothing oil. It’s not over even when it’s over here.

And then Philippians. And well, if you know Philippians… But for now, just this: Phil 3:13-14.

Finally, others’ blogs. Still wondering how a “stupid movie” could blindside and knock me so low, I behold someone else’s grief revisit, triggered by a seemingly mundane event — and realize mine came to call again the same way!

We mourn the loss not only of people, but also of dreams, of might-have-beens. And tiny triggers can call back hidden pain in startling waves. 

Now with waves receded, stilled, I sit and shake my head a little, still somewhat stunned, pondering the why.

I think God gives us such “re-griefs” to finish healing we don’t realize we still need. And to equip us for comfort of others in pain. 

No more blues now. Only settled, grateful peace.

*****