Seventy times Seven

"Forgiveness is an act of the will, and the will can function regardless of the temperature of the heart." ~ Corrie Ten Boom

I have a secret sin (for another second, anyway): I'm bitter. Surprised? It's true. I am generally an optimistic, hopeful person. I like to give people the benefit of a doubt. There are exceptions, though. Two that readily come to mind. Two individuals that, given a new offense or simply a faulty mood on my part, become the subject of "righteous indignation" and a venting session worthy of daytime television. And when the dust settles, I feel worse. Not only have I failed to relieve those feelings of hurt, anger and resentment, but I have also unloaded that negativity on someone I care about. Research suggests that venting, rather than relieving the pressure of anger, essentially acts as a "rehearsal" of the feelings of anger, resentment and bitterness. In most cases venting leads to more anger, not less. And that should really come as no surprise. We are cataloging the transgressions of the offender. We present the "record of wrongs," seeking justification of our anger, our hurt, our bitterness from an earthly jury. The jury's verdict is nearly always a resounding, "Guilty." But even once the verdict is read, we revisit the trial time and again. Intentionally reliving moments of anguish, misunderstanding, hurt, or injustice over and over again. Our courtroom is flawed.

The fix for this flawed system, as the Holy Spirit has been actively impressing upon me over the last few weeks, is forgiveness. I revel in the graciousness of a forgiving Father, but what of those who have wronged me? Sadly I (and probably some of you reading this as well) can identify with the unmerciful servant in Matthew 18:

“For this reason the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his slaves. When he had begun to settle them, one who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him. But since he did not have the means to repay, his lord commanded him to be sold, along with his wife and children and all that he had, and repayment to be made. So the slave fell to the ground and prostrated himself before him, saying, ‘Have patience with me and I will repay you everything.’ And the lord of that slave felt compassion and released him and forgave him the debt. But that slave went out and found one of his fellow slaves who owed him a hundred denarii; and he seized him and began to choke him, saying, ‘Pay back what you owe.’ So his fellow slave fell to the ground and began to plead with him, saying, ‘Have patience with me and I will repay you.’ But he was unwilling and went and threw him in prison until he should pay back what was owed. So when his fellow slaves saw what had happened, they were deeply grieved and came and reported to their lord all that had happened. Then summoning him, his lord said to him, ‘You wicked slave, I forgave you all that debt because you pleaded with me. Should you not also have had mercy on your fellow slave, in the same way that I had mercy on you?’ And his lord, moved with anger, handed him over to the torturers until he should repay all that was owed him.  My heavenly Father will also do the same to you, if each of you does not forgive his brother from your heart.” 

~ Matthew 18:23-35

The moral of the story? In order to receive forgiveness, we must be willing to forgive. Not just say we forgive someone, but actually forgive them. And in case there is any doubt on the subject, it is reiterated a number of times in the New Testament:

"This, then, is how you should pray: 'Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name, your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us today our daily bread. 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 6:9-15

 "And when you stand praying, if you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins."

~ Mark 11:25

"Bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive."

~ Colossians 3:12

But what does true forgiveness look like? Have you ever screwed up and later apologized to someone. He or she says they accept your apology and forgive you, but down the road you find yourself at odds with them again (regardless of who is "at fault") and all of a sudden you're being read a laundry list of all the things for which he or she said they forgave you? Me too. Have you ever been the one recounting that list of wrongs? Yeah, me too. If our interactions with a person are filtered through a sieve of their past transgressions (in the sense that we automatically interpret every word or action to confirm our own negative ideas about them and sift out and ignore any evidence to the contrary), I think it is safe to say we have not truly forgiven them. We harbor ill-will. Ill-will that not only takes roots as bitterness in our hearts, but it also interferes with our fellowship with the Father and, if the other party is a believer, sows discord in the body of Christ.

Forgiveness is an extension of grace (read: it is undeserved) born out of love. As we know from I Corinthian 13, love is, among other things:

• Patient - Understanding that everyone struggles and change is a process
• Kind - friendly, generous
• Not Self-Seeking - not more concerned with saving face, proving something or seeking revenge than with being obedient and extending grace to the undeserving (just as we've received)
• Not Easily Angered - not jumping immediately to anger and negativity, but rather being willing to give the benefit of doubt, extend grace, etc.
• Keeps No Record of Wrongs - forgives in a manner consistent with the example God has given us Himself and through Jesus Christ

I don't know about you, but so far, my forgiveness report card is not looking so hot. The Old Testament gives us further insight into what true forgiveness (as extended by God) looks like:

"The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger an abounding in steadfast love. He will not always chide, nor will he keep His anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us."

~ Psalm 103:8-12

"Who is a God like you, who pardons sin and forgives the transgressions of the remnant of his inheritance? You do not stay angry forever, but delight to show mercy. You will again have compassion on us; you will tread our sins underfoot and hurl all our iniquities into the depths of the sea."

~ Micah 7:18-19

Your sin is gone. Don't let the condemning whispers of the enemy fool you. That is not God recounting your past mistakes. It is the enemy seeking to thwart the purpose of God in your life. And when I offer only a feeble, false representation of forgiveness to someone in my life, it may very well be my voice in that person's ear doing the enemy's work for him. I must not listen to or allow myself to become the condemning whisper that fuels crippling guilt and self-pity.


Perhaps the best picture of what forgiveness looks like, however, is the image of a perfect man, God incarnate, sent to earth for one purpose: To rescue us; to purchase our forgiveness with His blood. Forgiveness is not easy. Blameless though He was, Jesus was tormented. He was lied to and about. He was falsely accused. He was beaten savagely. Traps were laid for him. His words were twisted and misconstrued. He was betrayed by one of His beloved twelve. He was humiliated. Mocked. Murdered. And if His prayer in the garden is any indication, He didn't feel like doing it, but He chose to do it anyway.

How can I, in all my imperfection, totally dependent on His grace, hold fast to the hurt, the anger, the torment and refuse to forgive? How insulting is that to the Savior who gave everything to extend me forgiveness? Am I more deserving of forgiveness than those that hurt me? Of course not. I'm clinging to a self-serving double standard. And if I feel I cannot forgive, that I do not have it in me to do so, who better to give that hurt, anger and torment over to than the one who so freely gave of Himself to free me from my own sin? The One who knows exactly what I am going through, and then some. Forgiveness is a not a feeling. It is a choice. And the longer I live (and the more avenues through which the Holy Spirit prods), the more I realize how dependent I am on God even for that.

The hardest aspect of the forgiveness dilemma for me was voiced through Peter's question to Jesus:

 "Then Peter came up and said to him, 'Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?' Jesus said to him, 'I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven.'"

~ Matthew 18:21-22  

In light of the fact that "[love] keeps no record of wrongs," I believe it's safe to say that Jesus isn't suggesting that we keep track of a person's offenses up through No. 490 and after that we get a free pass on the whole forgiveness thing. The point is that regardless of whether a person is sorry, regardless of whether the offense is repeated time and again, we are to forgive. Even if they never proactively ask for our forgiveness.   

Forgiveness is a big deal because it is an opportunity for us to reenact here on earth what our Heavenly Father did for us through Jesus Christ. If my version of forgiveness is the only version a person has by which to gauge the forgiveness offered through Jesus Christ, will he or she want anything to do with it?

I was chatting with Daddy about this blog yesterday and he used a phrase I love: He said that forgiveness is our opportunity to "multiply grace." What a beautiful thought, indeed. That is what I want forgiveness to look like for me ... and I know that through His love and strength, it will be.

A Whisper of Hope

This Thursday, May 2, 2013, marks the ten year anniversary of hope renewed in my life.

Despite feeling a lifetime apart from that other self most days, it is hard to believe a decade has come and gone since that pivotal moment in my life. I remember it as though it were yesterday. The scene is etched in my mind in nightmarish detail. Every time I hear an advertisement for Ambien, I think about that day. I recall holding that prescription bottle in my hand as the tears fell silently. If I took enough, I could sleep forever. I wouldn’t have to feel the pain, the hurt, the loss anymore. I think about putting it on the counter and walking away. And I remember coming back to it again. Afterwards, I sobbed. I didn’t know how long it would take for a month’s worth of sedative to permanently sedate me. But in the moments following my deliberate overdose, I felt regret. There was a brief flicker of light in which I thought there might have been hope left afterall. But was I too late to catch hold of it? I made two phone calls that day. One to apologize to Dave. We’d broken up recently, but this wasn’t his fault. I needed him to know that. The other was to my Dad. I’ve overdosed, Daddy. I’ve tried to kill myself. I need help. Then the lights went out.

I regained consciousness some hours later in the ER at St. Luke’s (the hospital bills alone were enough to drive a perfectly optimistic person to depression). Having your stomach pumped with charcoal (to counter the effect of the drugs) gives a whole new meaning to you-know-what’ing bricks. Charcoal briquettes, that is (it is a testament to the resilience of the sick Miller family sense of humor that I said this while still at the hospital). I was interviewed to determine if the Baker Act needed to be invoked (thankfully it wasn’t). The days that followed the overdose are still a little foggy.

My parents were there with me. Not condemning me. Not questioning me. I put them through hell that day, but they were there loving me, supporting me, lifting me up in prayer. Thanking God, as I do even now, that He gave their little girl a second chance to live.

Others pulled away when they found out what happened. I was a leper, and they didn’t want what I had. I was a ticking time bomb, waiting to go off again, threatening to suck innocent bystanders into the blast zone. I learned quickly who my real friends were. My best friend was, in fact, not the best. There was not room for me or my problems in her quickly evolving life. Those sorts of realizations were heart wrenching. Even now, when I am infinitely more comfortable in my own skin, it is interesting to see people’s reactions when they hear my story. I’ve learned that in most cases, the reaction says a lot more about who that other person is than about who I am. I do my best not to harbor hard feelings in those cases. This behavior does, however, make me upset about how our society treats those who struggle with depression and other mental or behavioral health issues. Depression is a cancer of the mind. It eats away at hope.

A few months after my overdose, I checked myself into an outpatient program at Baptist Medical Center because I felt myself drifting back into the same thought patterns that led me to that place of despair the first time. I am, quite happily, off of antidepressants at this point in my life, but I have been on them years at a time on and off since my overdose. I sought counseling following the overdose and even as recent as two years ago. I share all of this to make the following point: There is no shame in seeking help. Having the guts to reach out is a special kind of brave, even if I do say so myself. In many cases, depression is the result of a medically proven chemical imbalance in the brain (Interested in learning more about this? Google “serotonin” and do a little research on its role in mood regulation, implications of it being taken up too quickly, and how serotonin-specific reuptake inhibitors [SSRI’s] – you may recognize many common antidepressants on that list – are used to regulate the presence of serotonin in the central nervous system). If you’re physically ill, you go to the doctor. Depression and mental illness should be no different.

One of my absolute favorite resources following my overdose in 2003 was Susan Rose Blauner’s book How I Stayed Alive When My Brain Was Trying to Kill Me. Blauner herself suffered from several mental health disorders and attempted suicide multiple times (the percentage of failed suicide attempts that are followed by a subsequent attempt is very high). She’s been in the trenches. I remember thinking as I read this book for the first time: “YES! That’s EXACTLY what it’s like!” She explains depression from a number of perspectives (including medically) and she provides a plethora of practical tools to redirect your thought processes. She also includes an entire section entitled “Helping the Suicidal Thinker” for those who are not suicidal themselves but rather know someone who is. Blauner’s book is not written from a Christian perspective, but there is great emphasis on the power of our thoughts and words to drive our mood and our actions. This is a concept addressed repeatedly in scripture. And so I recommend this book -- highly recommend it -- to any of you who are suffering from severe depression (even if it has not reached the point of suicidal thoughts) and to those of you who know someone who is struggling.

So there it is: A new blog entry. A little glimpse into my life. It has not (and still is not) all sunshine and rainbows. I’ve suffered under the weight of a broken engagement. I’ve been cheated on. I even once called my (now ex) fiancé only to have another woman pick up the phone. The baggage from that relationship added to the angst in the two that followed and still occasionally haunts me now in a marriage that both Eric and I consider as a happy one. I have struggled with depression since the age of seventeen. I attempted suicide. I have been betrayed or grossly misrepresented by people I considered my closest friends. And I’ve not been an angel myself. I’ve spent more than my fair share of time frequenting bars with less than honorable intentions. I chased love and fulfillment in a world that is broken and dark, and which could never offer the fulfillment I was seeking. My life now is a far cry from all of that, but it is not perfect. Transformed? Yes. Progressing? Yes. Perfect? No.  And make no mistake about it: I am where I am today because God reached down, time and again, and picked his prodigal daughter up out of the mire and set her back on solid ground.

So my message for you today is one of HOPE. No matter how dark this world may seem. No matter how hopeless you feel. Listen for the whisper of Hope. Hear the voice of God. Seek help. And know that you have a future and a purpose in Him (Jeremiah 29:11-12).

a little longer ...

I was sifting through some of my writing from years past and came across this little ditty written in May 2007:

a little longer ...

So let's battle a little longer, You and I.
Pour into me Your love. Take from me this pride.
Battered, black and blue from all I pledge allegiance to.
And in the end it'll pass away, and all that's left is You.

So let's struggle a little longer, Adonai.
Instill in me Your mercy. Take from me this pride.
Reminded in my weakness of Your sufficient grace.
One day I'll shed this selfishness and truly seek Your face.

So let's wrestle a little longer, we're far from through.
Confront me with Your holiness. Show me what is true.
Broken by my own mistakes and remaining stubborn still.
Only You have power to mend this heart as You work in me Your will.


If you read my last post (from many, many months ago ... time flies when you're neglecting your blog!), you know that the breaking and mending process has indeed progressed "a little longer." It is still in progress. I am thankful for a Savior who not only took my sins to the cross, but who also loves me enough to break my heart and mend it again, better still. Over and over again. I still struggle with selfish pride. I still desperately need greater humility. But I can see the progress God has made in my heart and my life, and I know "that he who began a good work in [me] will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Philippians 1:6 NIV) He will work in me a little longer ... and then I'll be home.