Let's face it, we all have those people in our lives that drive us nuts. Oh, we may try to be nice on the outside, but on the inside we are banging our head against a wall. And most of the time we figure everything is fine, as long as we don't say anything.
But then someone comes along who starts talking about how freeing forgiveness can be. Here's a good example as we pick up Jesus mid-teaching; "Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.' For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins." (Matthew 6:12-15).
And though we agree with all of these spiritually, physically it makes us want to gag.
My son has the weakest gag reflex of anyone I have ever seen. He'll shove 5 bites into his mouth and then I will see this look and I will just hand him a napkin or escort him to a garbage can, because I know what's going to happen. He gags and all that was once in his mouth is now, well, not. He is getting better at pacing himself through meals, but...
When he is sick it is a different story. When a child, and by child I mean a normal child who is not my son, gets sick, you give them medicine. They may not like it, but it makes them better. When I was a child, it was like they were trying to see how bad medicine could taste. I would be sick with pneumonia and my parents would hand me something resembling puke, in smell, taste, and texture. We should hand it to the pharmacies now, because these days they make medicine that tastes fruity or they make these melt-aways, so kids won't even have to chew their medicine. It should be a win-win, right?
Enter my son's gag reflex. Oh, and he doesn't like fruit. It's so bad that two nights ago when he had a high fever and I was holding the medicine, he threw up. I was HOLDING the medicine. A day and a half later, he remains sick.
It's the same way with forgiveness. Like a much needed medicine that we refuse to take, we remain sick. Simply because we refuse to offer, or accept, forgiveness. It makes me sick.
But then someone comes along who starts talking about how freeing forgiveness can be. Here's a good example as we pick up Jesus mid-teaching; "Forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.' For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins." (Matthew 6:12-15).
And though we agree with all of these spiritually, physically it makes us want to gag.
My son has the weakest gag reflex of anyone I have ever seen. He'll shove 5 bites into his mouth and then I will see this look and I will just hand him a napkin or escort him to a garbage can, because I know what's going to happen. He gags and all that was once in his mouth is now, well, not. He is getting better at pacing himself through meals, but...
When he is sick it is a different story. When a child, and by child I mean a normal child who is not my son, gets sick, you give them medicine. They may not like it, but it makes them better. When I was a child, it was like they were trying to see how bad medicine could taste. I would be sick with pneumonia and my parents would hand me something resembling puke, in smell, taste, and texture. We should hand it to the pharmacies now, because these days they make medicine that tastes fruity or they make these melt-aways, so kids won't even have to chew their medicine. It should be a win-win, right?
Enter my son's gag reflex. Oh, and he doesn't like fruit. It's so bad that two nights ago when he had a high fever and I was holding the medicine, he threw up. I was HOLDING the medicine. A day and a half later, he remains sick.
It's the same way with forgiveness. Like a much needed medicine that we refuse to take, we remain sick. Simply because we refuse to offer, or accept, forgiveness. It makes me sick.
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