Forgive

The carpet plushes up around my bare feet as I run its rich length to the throne. In childlike fashion, I run to the open arms of the King, sitting alone in the throne room. His embrace seems to put all my broken pieces back together in a moment and I sit on His knee, unwilling to lose contact with Him.

I ask a few questions, but keep on talking. He listens, nods His head, and smiles. I keep looking away, out into the throne room, but always my gaze is drawn back to that face, that smile.

"Are you happy, Child?" His question penetrates deep into my heart.

I smile. "Oh yes. I'm happy--You've blessed me so much and put me in a place to grow and learn and be that I love."

His eyes cut deeper than His question. "Are you really happy?"

My smile fades. "Yes," I say again, though quieter now. "I am happy. But there are some things down inside that keep me from being completely happy."

"Tell Me. I want to know what those things are."

I name a few things, pausing longer on some than on others. Sometimes I smile while telling Him: and sometimes He comments or answers my questions.

"...and as much as I want Your will, I really would like to know," I finish, almost frowning, but still smiling.

He laughs. "I thought you liked surprises."

"I do, I do! But..."

He shakes His head now, still smiling. "No 'buts.' You'll like My surprise, when the time comes. Be patient..."

As the talking and occasional laughter dies down, I sense His eyes on me still. He knows. I haven't mentioned one thing--and that's because I'm not sure how to say it out loud. I fumble with my fingers, trying to pretend like I've exhausted my list of things, even though I know better.

"Did you forget something?" I can hear the smile in His voice, even though I also sense He's hurting with me.

I shake my head at first, but the feeling of that penetrating glance changes the direction of my nod halfway. "I don't want to talk about that, though..."

He puts His arms around me again. Tears escape and run down my cheeks, and then down the gentle, scarred hands that hold my face. A tear that isn't mine rolls down my face, too.

After a little while, He sighs. "You need to talk about it, Child. I'm listening."

I shake my head. "I don't even know how..." More tears.

"Try."

One word, and it unleashes a floodgate of words that I didn't even know were there. At long last, the problem is in open air, in all its painful ugliness. What will He say?

Tears still bright in His eyes, He now smiles. "I know. I understand. But I've asked you to move on."

I nod, swallowing down a few tears. "I'm going to. I am moving on."

Now He shakes His head. "No... I don't think you really have yet. If you'd already moved on, you wouldn't still be angry. You must forgive."

Forgive. That word slices deep and in a moment, I know He's right. But I can't... It isn't deserved... It's not even Christian...

"Yes, you can." His voice breaks the silence again. "And no, it's not deserved, but that's the essence of forgiveness. And yes..." --He turns my face up to His-- "it's the most Christian thing in the world."

"Even like this? Even when...?" My eyes darken, I know.

"Even when those you love and have tried to save nail you to a cross and mock at you," He replies, quiet.

My eyes travel up to the tell-tale scars in His forehead. For the first time, I feel a breath--fresh air. I want it.

"I want to forgive, but I'm not sure how." I sigh. "This is too big to just say a simple 'I forgive you' and walk away."

He doesn't say anything for a long time, His eyes fixed on some place far distant, almost reliving something that happened long ago. When He does speak, I can feel His very blood dripping through my fingers. "I suffered, bled, and died, My Child. I gave everything I had, and more, so that the world could have a chance at life. In My death, I pardoned: and the essence of pardon is to release the offender from the consequences of their mistakes."

Like a blow in the face, I consider it. Release the offender from the consequences of their mistakes? 

He continues. "I can only forgive those who ask it of Me. And yet, in heart I've forgiven all that men have done to Me. Even so, someday, those who have not asked forgiveness and obtained it will face the consequences."

Forgive, release from consequences... But then, if unrepentant, someday consequences? But still forgiven? How...?

He smiles. "You don't have to understand. Only trust."

I smile. "I trust You."

"Then forgive. Forgive as I've told you to: then, and only then, will you be able to move forward as I've planned."

A long, painful silence. He's waiting for my reply.

Crumbling resolve, shattering glass, crashing walls. "Help me..."

And so He does.

Once all the dust settles, He points my gaze out the window. "Now... move forward."

Who would've thought that forgiveness could hold so much?