By Chaplain Joy Le Page Smith, MA

Have you experienced thinking you had forgiven someone only to feel uncomfortable the next time you saw them or heard their voice on the phone? Or, struggled with no longer being able to see him or her as the loving person you once enjoyed?

There is a tenet in psychology called the “angel/devil principle,” which describes the common experience of thinking highly of a person, admiring him or her until such time as you are rejected or deeply hurt by them. Then, that person can hardly do anything right. All their future seesaw actions are seen through smudged glass. Where once there was trust, suspicion has set up housekeeping. This occurrence is subtle, often hard to recognize for the devilish thing that it is, and no doubt falls into the category of what the writer of Hebrews warned against: a “root of bitterness allowed to spring up and defile.” But what about those of us who are trying to keep our hearts disentangled as we continue to pray, “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us?”

What is going on when we find ourselves wanting to avoid certain people? Maybe it stems from that old self-preservation instinct that promotes the attitude, “Why let myself in for more pain?” Distance is safety, or so we think. Yet, Jesus told us to pray for our enemies. How much more so for those who were once friends?

More often than not, we have fallen into the “debts” and “oughts.” One party feels the other ought to apologize, while the other feels indebted, having to live with the knowledge of pain caused. Jesus’ parable of the merciless official (Matthew 18:21-35) vividly portrays the results when forgiveness is withheld. Author David Seamands describes in Healing for Damaged Emotions, “. . . this whole debt system has been built into the human personality in a most incredible fashion. There is a sense of oughtness, of owing a debt, an automatic mechanism by which the built-in debt collectors (in the parable called ‘torturers’) go to work. We seek to atone for those wrongs, to pay the debt we owe or to collect the debt that someone else owes us. If we feel anger at ourselves, we say, ‘I must pay in full.’ Or, if we feel anger at someone else, that person must pay [or so we think.] In this way the whole inexorable process is set in motion as we/they are turned over to those inner tormentors: the jailers who work as debt collectors in this awful prison.

Jesus died to set us free. It is clear that forgiveness is given, when we ask, yet with expectations for us to in turn forgive others. The “prison” of all that inner torture is therefore avoided. But, when difficult feelings persist, does this mean forgiveness has not taken place?

Perhaps no one can speak on this more aptly than Corrie ten Boom, who was imprisoned in Auschwitz, a Nazi extermination camp. There, her father and sister died as this Dutch family suffered punishment for their efforts to help Jews during World War II. In her book, The Hiding Place, she wrote of the difficulties in trying to forgive one of the guards who had been extremely cruel. Later, in Tramp for God, she wrote these helpful words: “Up in the church tower is a bell which is rung by pulling on a rope. But you know what? After the sexton lets go of the rope, the bell keeps on swinging. First “ding,” then “dong.” Slower and slower until there’s a final “dong” and it stops. The same is true of forgiveness. When we forgive someone, we must take our hand off the rope. But, if we’ve been tugging at our grievances for a long time, we mustn’t be surprised when the old angry thoughts keep coming up for a while. They’re just the “ding-dongs” of the old bell slowing down.”

How strengthening it is to know those old feelings are only echoes. Ones which in time will die out. “Peace, be still. It is forgiven,” can serve as a gentle reminder to keep our hands off the “rope” when old angers surface.

Herein lies the element of patience with ourselves for being human and with the process, giving it time. Meanwhile, if the heart pounds and feelings soar in the presence of that “certain person,” we are not alone. Christ stands there between us watching the struggle, waiting for us to call for His help.

Author info. Chaplain Joy Le Page Smith is a Board certified clinical chaplain. She is reaching readers with her books and websites in up to 32 countries. View her children’s book as a FREE video at healingwithjoy.blogspot.com as well as they many helpful articles on this site addressing life’s difficulties.

By Joy Le Page Smith, MA, BCC

Have you ever noticed geese as they wing their way through the skies? With the exception of those who found their ways to our dinner tables, these gracious birds continue to form notable “V’s” while in flight. Have you wondered why geese fly in that formation? Scientists have discovered that the flapping of their wings creates an uplift for the bird directly behind. By flying in the “V” the flock gains 71 percent greater flying range than would otherwise be possible with each bird flying on its own.

When a goose slips out of formation a sudden drag discourages the bird from trying to “go it alone.” He quickly gets back in line where he gains the “lift” once again. When the lead goose gets tired he rotates back in the “V” while another flies point. The honking you hear is from the geese in the rear who encourage those in the lead to keep up their speed.

When a goose falls sick or wounded, two others leave the formation and follow him or her down to help. They stay to protect that goose until the bird is either able to fly again, or dies. Then, the helping geese launch out on their own or join another formation until they are able to catch up with their original group.

Nature is a great teacher. We who share a common direction, finding and following the footsteps of Christ will reach our goal quicker and easier if we travel on the thrust of one another.

As thinking human beings, it should be easier for us to help each other than it is for those within the animal kingdom, motivated by instinct only. Yet, as individuals, sometime the determination to succeed, or to gain recognition, sees us “flying” alone.

Still, deep within there lies an instinct to help the “wounded other.” We see it in the hospitals, in our churches and sometimes on the street. No doubt that was the force that motivated a father of five in New York City, which will forever stick in my mind. He jumped in front of a train in order to save an old man.

On the other hand, we thinking humans often do a masterful job of suppressing that helping urge. We can find ways to appease our consciences, like, “I am late already . . . too many “balls in the air, here.”

The challenge today is to reflect on how we relate to people who are hurting. They are all around us. Always, we think of people who need food at this time of year. Another direction to consider are the people in our community who are lonely—those in nursing homes or home-bound, long term. These are hard roads to walk. And, stepping alongside means we will be taking on some of their pain. It is so much easier to stay in our comfort zone.

Yet, how can we forget the words of our Lord: “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink. I was a stranger and you welcomed me, naked and you clothed me. I was ill and you comforted me, in prison and you came to visit me … I assure you, as often as you did it for one of my least brothers, you did it for me.”

All are made in the image of God. Is it not amazing to contemplate that a visit to an elderly person, a card to a person who is suffering, or helping someone less fortunate will reach the very heart of God? Following the footsteps of Christ rarely finds us on “easy street”—at least not for long. It is far from easy, considering the needs of another who lives with a lot of pain, whether by illness, grief, or homelessness. Yet, offering a smile with a silent prayer says, “I care,” when nothing else can be done.

When we go to the side of those who are wounded—those who are sinking—it must be with an ear open to God’s Spirit within. Otherwise we may lack the wisdom to know when to stop our energetic flapping, our efforts to bring them back into line. Surely, it is a listening, waiting presence that allows another’s thoughts and feelings to be fully heard.

From those who have gone before us, we have received the gift of strength. We are called to faithfully carry the weight of that strength so as to uplift one another. It is not enough to soar on our own.

About the author: Joy Le Page Smith is a Board certified clinical chaplain. Her articles and blogs are read in 32 countries. Joy’s four books are available on her home page of this site, Healing-with-Joy.com where readers can view–FREE–her children’s book as a YouTube titled, The Little Mountain Goat Who Was Afraid of High Places.