Writing Our Hurts in the Sand

This past weekend I worked on a talk that I'll be giving at the camp in Brazil next week. The theme of the camp is God's mercy. The passage assigned to me is Matthew 6 -- the Lord's prayer. And the part I'm going to focus upon is the relationship between prayer and forgiveness.

In preparing this talk, I came across this story:

There once were two friends were walking through the desert. During their journey they had an argument, and one friend slapped the other one in the face. The one who got slapped was hurt, but without saying anything, he wrote in the sand: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SLAPPED ME IN THE FACE." They kept on walking until they found an oasis, where they decided to take a bath. The one who had been slapped got stuck in the mud and started drowning, but his friend saved him. After he recovered from almost drowning, he wrote on a stone: "TODAY MY BEST FRIEND SAVED MY LIFE." The friend who had slapped and saved his best friend asked him, "After I hurt you, you wrote in the sand and now, you write on a stone, why?" The other friend replied: "When someone hurts us we should write it down in sand where winds of forgiveness can erase it away. But, when someone does something good for us, we must engrave it in stone where no wind can ever erase it."

As I've examined and prayed over and researched these words of Scripture, the Lord has made me realize how continually forgiving others is vital to maintaining an open communication with Him.

Last night I read some of what I had written to Susan, and it just seemed to be a jumbled mess. Then as Susan prayed about it, she gave me this great advice: "Jim, just tell your story of your own family." And so I began writing some of my story, and the words flowed out so quickly. It was painful to face, but something that I needed to write: the breakup of my parents' marriage.

My parents divorced when I was just entering my teen years. My Dad remarried and had another child from that marriage. Then his second wife died of cancer. My mother had never remarried, raising her four children on her own for about 7 years.

Then the strangest thing happened. My parents started dating again. And in 1971 they surprised all of us kids with announcement that they were getting married…again. And they stayed married for 30 more years.

About five years ago my family and I were out in California seeing my folks one summer. One day I drove my mother to Los Angeles to see a doctor. During our drive I said to her, “Mom, I’ve never told you how thankful I am that you and Dad got back together. I really appreciate this.” She immediately responded, “Well, Jimbo, it all comes down to forgiveness.”

There were faults on both sides in my parents’ divorce. But my mother has taught me a lot about forgiveness.

Two years later my family was out in California again. My Dad had Alzheimers. We put him in a care center while my mother lived at home. And every day she faithfully visited my father. Susan and I went with her to see Dad our first day there. He didn’t make much sense. And was like a child. But when he recognized Mom he reached out and hugged her for a long time. Later, as we slowly walked around the facility, I followed behind and was so moved seeing them walk arm in arm. My parents taught me a lot about the power of forgiveness. They wrote their hurts in the sand. And loved each other until the day my father died three years ago.

There's something about the power of forgiveness that keeps our hearts open to God's love, grace and power -- and serves as an ointment to help us continue loving each other. Jesus calls us to be a people that rises above the wounds of others and forgive, forgive and forgive. And He gives His disciples the power to do this great work of forgiveness. And when we think of what Jesus did for us on the cross, to forgive us of all our sins -- all the ways we have hurt Him -- how can we not but extend the olive branch of forgiveness to others.

I'd love to hear your story -- of how you (or others close to you) have written your hurts in the sand.

Jim