Hey Reader!

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As I mentioned last week, I have a brand new book that fits well into the message of my earlier book, Love Pray Listen. It's called 199 Prayers for my Adult Child. If you struggle to pray for your adult child, this may empower you! Plus it has blank pages to register your own prayers and the dates you prayed them. How important to look at God's faithfulness as you pray!

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In a recent counseling session, the counselor asked me what I would have liked to hear from a loved one. And as I thought about it, initially I wanted an apology.

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But as I dug deeper into what I really wanted, I realized just how one-sided the relationship was. I became the person asking questions. I became the orbit around the relative. I wracked my brain for questions to ask, topics to discuss, and interests to explore. All about the other.

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But the reciprocity did not exist.

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I felt hollow.

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Because it didn’t cross the other person’s mind to be curious about me. So I gave, gave, gave, then felt hollowed out and used.

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Have you ever felt that way? That you were the curious one, and the other was happy to let you ask all the questions? Have you ever felt starved for interest? For a question? For a conversation that doesn’t revolve around the other? Do you get weary when someone else’s self-absorption begins to feel like something to endure?

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All that to say, when you love someone, you are curious. You want to know what makes them tick, how they’re coping with stress, what keeps them up at night. You exercise a holy curiosity of the other simply because they are an image bearer of God whom he placed in front of you.

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To ask questions is to love.

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To be curious is to demonstrate kindness.

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I don’t have some grand conclusion other than it hurts so much when someone isn’t curious of us. I sit with you in that pain. I understand it. And I pray that perhaps a miracle might happen someday—that the uncurious other would finally ask a question.

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Way:

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(NOTE: this article came from my new Substack account. If you'd like this kind of long form essay content on a weekly basis, you can subscribe here).

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Don't force Forgiveness

Hint: It's a journey, not a one-off

“I’m having a hard time forgiving,” she told me.

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But her church-centric abuse had been longterm, pervasive, and ongoing.

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I told her that the forgiveness journey is excruciatingly long and that no one gets to tell her how and when to forgive. Jesus, in his gentleness, will lead her beautifully.

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When you have a deep imbedded trauma, it’s as easy as saying, “I’m choosing to forgive.” An entrenched soul injury takes time to work through.

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I have heard well meaning Christians try to encourage the traumatized to hurry up and forgive already. “You don’t want to become bitter, do you?” “After all, Jesus forgave, so you should, too.” “You’re in sin if you don’t forgive.”

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These cliche responses show a derelict of empathy. It’s one thing to forgive that person who ran a red light in front of you. It’s quite another if that red-light-running caused the death of your child. One is a fleeting forgiveness; the other hard fought and lengthy.

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There’s quite a difference between healing from an abrasion than an appendectomy. But we tend to treat all emotional pain the same. Deeper wounds require a longer recovery.

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Forgiveness is a journey that starts with one decision. And that is simply the willingness to forgive, realizing that one forgiveness decision is the catalyst for a thousand more. You may forgive that church leader for telling you off, but then three weeks later you remember that panicked feeling you had when you were cornered in the children’s building. That’s another forgiveness decision. The blanket, “I forgive all church hurt” is insufficient.

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There are always layers.

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Forgiveness is always a long journey.

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And that’s okay.

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I used to get really impatient with myself for seemingly not forgiving. I had chosen forgiveness for that person, so in my mind that was it. I was done.

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But then the person would do another thing that broke my heart or killed my resolve or reminded me of another wound they gave. And I would think, “Drat, I haven’t forgiven.”

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The truth is, I have forgiven a layer. And now there’s the opportunity to forgive another layer.

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It is not helpful to pressure a traumatized person into forgiveness. This is a tender journey between them and the Lord. Chances are, they already put pressure on themselves and holler at themselves for not doing enough forgiveness.

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Forgiveness requires that we acknowledge the pain we have experienced, which is another reason why the journey is long. Sometimes we avoid. Sometimes we feel our soul will break in two if we look at the injury again. Sometimes we are just plain tired of perpetrators getting away with bad, awful behavior. Sometimes it seems patently unfair that we have to do forgiveness work when the one who harmed us seems happy and fine. It does not feel fair at all.

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All that to say: be tender with the person who is hurting. And be kind to yourself if you are on this journey. This is going to take time. A deep wound has to be cleaned, operated upon, stitched up. Don’t berate yourself for not healing fast enough. Just take the next little step. And give yourself grace.

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I am so grateful to represent some amazing authors, one of which is Natasha Smith. Her book, Black Woman Grief, released on Tuesday. You can find it here.​

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There's a pretty cool audio book sale going on right now too:

LPL in audio form is only $10 until March 7th. Click the image to get the sale! :)

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Pray

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Jesus, would you help Reader be kind about Reader's own difficult forgiveness journey? Enable Reader to hear from you in these hard, hard places. Give Reader a listening ear to loved ones. And bring Reader a friend who will listen well, pray, and bear burdens.In Jesus's name I pray, Amen.

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Be kind to yourself, Reader!
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Warmly,

Mary

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