My parents, while undoubtedly quirky and flawed, made me feel like a loved and accepted girl. Most of my classes involve me exploring how my personality developed. I write about my parents praising and affirming me, causing me to have a healthy self-image. I read my classmates papers with stories full of their moms being beaten by boyfriends, their fathers doing unspeakable things to them at night, and constantly being made feel worthless by their caretakers. But not I, I was raised in Love. And this is true. I am a pretty together individual for the most part. And I really am thankful for it.
However, something has been revealed to me lately that undermines this notion that because I had a pleasant childhood everything is peachy.
I have trouble with forgiveness.
There, I said it.
A bit of forgiving, but mostly being forgiven. I am comfortable with people being angry with me, and often assume and announce it. Someone hating me makes more sense than them forgiving me.
Upon making this realization I immediately made the connection to the spiritual: I really have yet to grasp Christ's forgiveness. The foolish things I've done haunt me. Through my joy, laughter, and exuberance I carry those millstones. And it is unhealthy to say the least. Whenever I cringe at the thought of something I've done, I hear in my head "Life Abundantly". When Christ died for our sins, He died for my sins specifically. He knew I was going to lie to my parents and gossip to hurt people and fool around with boys. And He did it anyway. Because His love is that expansive. So for me to hold on to all these things that I've done is really telling Jesus His love just can't cover it.
I feel embarrassed to admit this, because whenever someone says "but you just don't know what I've done", I assure them that Love conquers, it always wins. I have not let this truth that easily slips off my tongue penetrate my soul. I know of this Grace but have yet to truly embrace it, yet to let it wash me and set me free.
