Forgiveness is the deepest and truest conflict of our walk with God. This hit, profoundly, with my son’s suicide. My needing to forgive his girlfriend, being one of several catalysts, in losing him forced me beyond just wading into forgiving. I am confident that this young lady did little more with my forgiveness than to dry her eyes. The immediate crisis is gone and we’ve walked four years down the path. My forgiveness must be crumpled in the bottom of her purse.
Why do I project that onto her? In part, because the pain is real and because, as of this point, I have caught wind of no changes in her. I see this for more reasons than a vengeful desire to have her graveling at my feet. As of this moment, there are no signs of her doing any part of what accepting forgiveness means.
Forgiveness is not a legal acquittal. My having forgiven her for being one of several spurs prodding Dan to end his life means more than my foregoing her delinquency. I forgave that young lady wishing, wanting and hoping to, at least, hear about her establishing a sense of guilt. A sense of conscience wanting to change for itself and not for me. A need for alteration of lifestyle and relationships so that the conflicts she instigates dwindle away.