as we forgive those…
I was 31 when my first husband, Jeff, was diagnosed with cancer. He was 36 and given a prognosis of 3-6 months of life left to him, and to say that we were both blindsided by that information would be an understatement of massive proportion. In an instant, our lives changed completely. Everyone in our immediate family started running around like bugs in a jar crawling up the glass to catch a breath from air holes punched into the lid only to fall back to the bottom. Possible solutions were sought after – medical, holistic and “woo-woo” - to the degree that we’d try anything because, come on! – he was 36, we had a 1-year-old, and I was 5 months pregnant with our second child. We walked around like zombies.
About a month after our son was born, someone told me about M.O.P.S. (Mothers of Preschoolers, now called TheMom.Co) and I found a local group that met twice a month at Cornerstone Church in Simi Valley. Let me just tell you that it was an absolute Godsend for me. Not only were my boys and I warmly welcomed and loved on, to this day I’m still friends with some of the women I met during that time, one of whom as seen me through the death of both my husbands.
As we didn’t have a home church at that time (in reality, my husband wasn’t a believer then and I’d stepped away from my faith), being involved in M.O.P.S. led me to start attending Cornerstone and really leaning on the love and support they offered through the word of God and a massively big-hearted church family. We were prayed for, given meals, helped with childcare, regularly checked on. It was a beautiful lifeline thrown to us during a time of seemingly endless storms.
One night about 3 months before he passed away, the kids were in bed and my husband, sister-in-law, and I were sitting in the living room talking. Out of nowhere, they both came at me with hurtful accusations that leaned toward me making everything about me, that getting help from the church was self-focused, that asking for prayer made what we were all going through someone else’s business, etc. In short, how I was showing up was wrong. I remember just sitting there, shocked and deeply hurt by their words. I stood up and told them that if they had the rulebook on how I was supposed to act, please… please, give it to me because I didn’t know how to move through the fact that my husband was dying, our sons were going to grow up without their father, anxiety was my closest friend. I was scared.
None of us ever spoke about that night again. Our days became increasingly full of doctor visits, surgeries, anti-seizure meds, feeding tubes, hospice. Fortunately during his last few months, my husband began to come to church with me, to ask questions about the God who loved him and to receive answers that filled him with the peace that surpasses all understanding. He accepted Christ two weeks before he passed away and our pastor came to our home and baptized him. I praise God for that blessing!
November 28th will mark 24 years since Jeff passed away and while I’ve mostly forgotten the sting of those words from that night, I recently realized that I hadn’t forgiven either of them. I mean, I’ve occasionally thought about it and, as a believer, I knew that I needed to do it. After all, how can I ask God to forgive me my trespasses if I hold unforgiveness toward those who trespass against me? Also, this thing that happened hasn’t been something that I’ve prayed about that much; in truth, I don’t know if I really ever have. But a couple of weeks ago, I’d told this story to a friend of mine and a couple of days later while I was making my bed, the Lord, very clearly and quietly (yet, unmistakably), said to me, “They didn’t know Me and they were scared.”
Of course. Of COURSE!!! They didn’t know Him and so didn’t understand His love for them that was being shown to us through the body of the church. And they were scared! They spoke to me out of their fear and anger and the unbelievable sadness that surrounded us all. In that moment, the unforgiveness and resentment I felt about that night fell away. Because forgiveness is so important in our relationship with God. Because He loved my husband and He loves my sister-in-law. Because He loves me…the burden I’ve carried from that night has lifted. Yes, it took 24 years but ,more and more, I’m learning to trust God’s timing in all things and I’m so grateful that He took the lead on this one. For such a time as this.
”And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.”
Mark 11:25
