The Gates of Hell

So his fellow servant fell down and pleaded with him, ‘Have patience with me, and I will pay you.’  He refused and went and put him in prison until he should pay the debt. -- Matthew 18:29-30

Last night as I was cutting grass, I started thinking about an event that I may attend this weekend.  If I do there is a possibility that I will run into some people with whom I had a negative encounter several years ago.  These people literally got me thrown in jail.  I was in a holding cell for all of twenty minutes, but it was still a humiliating experience, and the way it was done wounded me.  These were, I should mention, ordained ministers in a solidly Reformed denomination.  I think their justification was that I was something of a bully.  That is, I am not easily manipulated and am rather resentful of any attempt to manipulate me.  I consider manipulation a form of witchcraft. 

So, this man of God and his “submissive” wife, along with a couple of other people, accosted me in my yard one evening with a number of accusations.  The wife, in particular, was shrill and abusive.  I took it for a little while, but when they refused to leave, instead of going in the house and locking the door as I should have, I questioned their ancestry, sexual habits, and the legitimacy of their parents’ marriage rites.   I was still off the leash when a patrol car rolled up to the curb.  One of their other confederates had called in a disturbance.  The woman who had been confronting me so viciously suddenly broke into tears – this is a preacher’s wife, remember – and swore that I had threated her.  Her Greek chorus backed her claim, and I was handcuffed and shoved in the back of the cruiser.  It cost me a lot of time and trouble and good money to get it resolved without too much damage. 

As I was mowing, I was recalling all this and thinking what I might say if I ran into this fine, upstanding Christian couple and their family.  They are such self-satisfied, self-righteous prigs that I would not be surprised – if they remember and recognize me – for them to tell me they forgive me for all I did to them.  In my mind, I ran through a scenario like that, and I considered how I might react, what I might say.  After a bit, the words that came to mind were pretty disturbing:  I would volunteer to burn in hell if it was my job to grind your filthy face into the coals. 

You would think, after all these years, my hatred would be not so white-hot.  The unforgiving servant was so determined to “get his own” that he forgot about his own master’s mercy.  He was willing to forgo forgiveness in order to get revenge.   Same as me. 

I had to wonder if my refusal to forgive and my craving for retribution for more than a decade have not contributed to my touchiness and bouts of depression.  I would like to say I had completely forgotten those who offended me, but I had merely pushed them out of sight.  I blamed myself – and I was certainly wrong to explode the way I did.  Predictably explode, I might add.  It caused me to question the reality of my Christianity.  Only now -- looking back, am I able to more easily agree with the assessment my late, dear mother-in-law voiced as I was being shackled – that they had set me up.  Assuming that it was my fault entirely, I preferred not to think about it at all.  Probably, if I went through the details and a little of the background, I could make an even stronger case justifying my response.  One exchange in particular was extremely provocative.  That serves no purpose and does me no good.  It doesn’t solve my problem. 

In the end there is, to paraphrase Yoda, only forgive or not forgive.  There is only a burning resentment so intense that the fires of hell hold little terror, or release.  I have sought another option.  It does not exist.  Therefore I forgive.   

If I did happen, on some odd chance, run into this nemesis, and, if they were to offer me forgiveness, I will humbly accept it.  If they did not offer, I would ask.  As far as I am concerned, they are forgiven.  I prayed several times last night and several times already today that they would be blessed and their lives filled with happiness.  It's bless or burn.  I'll keep doing it until it is easy.

When they had passed the first and the second guard, they came to the iron gate leading into the city.  It opened for them of its own accord, and they went out and went along one street, and immediately the angel left him (Acts 12:10).